Zero Gravity Adventures

Alparslan Öztürk

Lanzarote’s unique volcanic landscape is the reason it is used by the ESA as a training site for astronauts on future Moon and Mars missions. This extraterrestrial atmosphere is immediately noticeable, especially at night.

The barren and sterile landscape creates a tension through its coexistence with life and tourism. The island is also renowned for its rigorous conservation efforts in protecting this landscape. How will humans navigate and engage with nature in space, once they reach it? In childhood, the narrative is often radiant, utopian and peaceful and shows a progressive and united human race reaching the stars. However, with the growing reality of colonizing our solar system and the advancement of space tourism driven by rich and conservative private companies and actors, this vision feels increasingly dystopian.

Using two different methods, the work shows the attempt to search for the extraterrestrial in the here and now, with the concept of seeing the island as the Moon and Mars’ future. Night shots under moonlight on the one hand — tourism as a negative on the other.

Benedikt Burger

Vokabular

Benedikt Burger

At its core, photography is an attempt to understand—a way to bridge the distance between the self and the unknown.

Vokabular approaches a place that is in constant motion. Lanzarote—volcanic, wind-carved, contradictory—is not a backdrop, but a counterpart that resists being fully known. The island became a space of resonance, where observation, encounter, and uncertainty overlapped.

At the center of the project is a conceptual use of language. Selected Spanish words appear alongside the photographs—not as captions, but as associative extensions of the visual material. Referencing the format of a vocabulary book, these terms disrupt linear reading and open up layers of interpretation. Vokabular is less a document of place than a reflection on the act of photographic observation itself. It investigates how image and language can shape, distort, or fragment our understanding of an unfamiliar environment.

· Desajuste — Unstimmigkeit

· Distancia — Distanz

· Fragmento — Fragment

· Lazo — Band, Verbindung

· Luz dura — hartes Licht

· Máscara — Maske, Verhüllung

· Postura — Haltung, Pose

· Rastro — Spur, Abdruck

· Resplandor — Leuchten, Glühen

· Silueta — Silhouette

· Tránsito — Übergang, Bewegung

· Vacío — Leere, Vakuum

· Vulnerabilidad — Verletzlichkeit

Zoée Gaudion

Entre terre et ciel

Zoée Gaudion

«Niña, ve y diles a tus padres que cumplan los vecinos la promesa de construir la ermita, pues de lo contrario correrá el volcán de nuevo.»

[Loose translation]
“Little girl, go tell your parents the neighbors must keep their promise to build the chapel, otherwise the volcano will erupt again.”

— A woman in mourning (allegedly Nuestra Señora de los Dolores) to Juana Rafaela Acosta Umpierrez, a nine-year-old goatherd.

Legend of Nuestra Señora de los Dolores

‘Entre terre et ciel’ is an invitation to explore the mystical dimension of Lanzarote—an island where the sacred and the supernatural are intimately intertwined with the transformations of its landscape. This series seeks to reveal the deep connection between the islanders and the mythology of their land, embodied in their devotion to their patron saint: Nuestra Señora de los Dolores (also known as Nuestra Señora de los Volcanes).

More than mere folklore, the legend surrounding the construction of the Ermita y Santuario de Nuestra Señora de los Dolores reflects the profound influence volcanic activity has had on local culture and identity. From destruction emerged both spiritual strength and a shared sense of resilience in the face of nature’s challenges. The land, once feared, became revered.

The photographic series aims to move beyond the classical and expected imagery of Lanzarote, far from stereotypical landscapes. By evoking the lingering trace of divine ritual, it strives to capture the imprint of this intimate relationship—often invisible, yet ever-present in the gestures of devotion, offerings, and rituals that shape the lives of locals, and occasionally, of visitors.

Emma Szabó

Lively lady

Emma Szabó

My series was created on the island of Lanzarote, where through portraits of tourists I aim to express my inner desire for freedom. My subjects are individuals from varying cultural backgrounds with whom I had extended conversations and interactions, based on which I responded through symbolic elements. In my work I am interested in how different people define freedom and how this is reflected in their individual stories and experiences.

Benedek Balogh

Ephemeral Eternity

Benedek Balogh

In my practice, a recurring motif is the exploration of underlying dimensions of our reality—dimensions that can only be accessed through the medium of photography. This also involves a constant questioning of photography’s power to reveal, alongside the inherent problem of truth that comes with its representation. This series examines the fish as a vessel for humanity’s persistent impulse to abstract, interpret, and impose meaning onto the world. The fish has always been more than just an animal—it has carried myths, beliefs, and desires throughout history. It has been sacred and elusive, a sign of abundance and a harbinger of the unknown. It slips between worlds, both literally and metaphorically, thriving in the unseen depths yet constantly surfacing in our stories.

However, the fish is inseparable from the sea, a realm that has long mirrored our deepest fears and aspirations. The sea, vast and unknowable, resists boundaries much like the fish itself. It is a space of creation and destruction, a shifting expanse where reality dissolves and reforms. We have long cast our myths into its waters, searching for meaning in the endless movement of tides and creatures that remain just out of reach. In many cultures, the fish represents transformation and transcendence. It moves without borders, unbound by human constructs, yet we persist in trying to define it, to give it meaning. It becomes a symbol of utopia—something just out of reach, always shifting, never still. My work reflects on this fluidity, on the way we chase ideals that, like fish and the sea itself, ever remain in motion. They elude capture, yet we continue to seek, to interpret, to impose structure on a world that refuses to be contained.

This practice—of briefly exposing the fish to photographic paper—was particularly interesting in its ephemerality. The act itself stood in contrast to the enduring nature of myth, which is built upon repetition and permanence. I captured the fish and placed them on photographic paper for a few minutes, allowing their brief encounter with the surface to leave an imprint of that fleeting moment in time and space. Once the exposure was complete, I returned the fish to the water, as they were never meant to be kept. These imprints are not mere physical representations of the fish—they reflect our mythical pursuit, our constant projection of meaning onto the natural world. They embody our perspective on the fish’s existence, capturing not only the creatures themselves but the elusive nature of our desire to understand and define them.

Photography is always born in the moment it is done—an act of capturing something that can never be fully grasped. It is inherently a search for meaning, a quest to understand and make sense of the unknown. Like fishing, it involves reaching into the unseen, attempting to define what resists containment. The photograph, much like the catch, is a fleeting encounter, momentarily revealing something elusive, only to return it to the depths of mystery. Each image reflects not just what is visible, but our constant attempt to make sense of what lies just beyond our understanding. Photography, at its core, is always a dialogue with the unknown. The act of exposing the fish to the paper and then releasing them mirrors the cyclical and elusive nature of life, where things emerge, imprint themselves, and disappear, leaving behind only the echoes of our own interpretations and ideals. In a way, this process paradoxically engaged with and resisted myth-making: it created an imprint that sought to preserve a moment, yet the moment itself was transient, resisting the very permanence that myth strives for.

For me, the moment was also an unknowable interaction, a fleeting encounter that defied full understanding. During those brief minutes of exposure, a strange connection was formed, an inexplicable union between the human, the fish, and the surrounding environment. In those minutes, the myth of the fish—its symbolic, mythical, and transformative qualities—surfaced and deepened, as though the fish, through its transient presence, carried not only a physical imprint but also a mythic one. The imprint of the fish and the fish itself are no longer merely connected by a direct physical relation; they have become distinct entities, each carrying its own significance. The moment the fish is placed upon the photographic paper, it transforms into something beyond its literal self. The imprint, a temporary and fleeting trace, captures not just the essence of the animal but the interaction between it and the medium—a brief but profound encounter that transcends its physical form. In that fleeting instant, the fish as a living being and the trace left behind on the paper evolve into something new. They are no longer the same—they have each birthed a new reality, a new form of existence.

This new entity, born of the technique, does not just record the moment—it distills it, pulling from the depths of time and space a reality that resists simple capture. The process itself becomes a kind of revelation, where what was once fleeting, unknowable, or buried in the margins of our perception is now made visible: The photograph becomes a portal to something deeper—something beyond the surface of things, an underlying truth that emerges through the act of exposure. It resonated with stories older than language itself, amplifying the sense of something beyond mere form, something eternal and ever shifting. And yet, the imprint left behind was delicate, momentary—offering a reminder that myth itself, though seemingly eternal, is in a constant state of reinterpretation, just as the fish and the sea refuse to be fixed in place.

Marion Desjours

Crónicas Maguenesas

Marion Desjours

Welcome to Maquén, a barren, waterless planet bathed in improbable hues. In this unfamiliar world, an explorer-photographer arrives as a space tourist, setting foot on an enigmatic land and venturing to grasp its essence and unravel its mysteries.

Through this visual fiction, titled Las Crónicas Maguénesas, I explore our complex relationship with discovery and otherness, drawing a parallel with our own planet—one that is becoming increasingly inhospitable—and humanity’s apparent urge to explore and colonize.

The volcanic landscapes of Famara, on the island of Lanzarote, serve in this project as the stage for a world where reality and imagination blur, inviting us to reflect on our longing for distant frontiers and our neglect of what lies within reach.

At dawn, upon arriving there, I was struck by the ethereal quality of the landscape—an expanse of volcanic terrain and rugged mountains bathed in a soft pastel glow. The vastness of this arid land, seemingly untouched, evoked a sense of otherworldliness, as if suspended between dream and reality.

This environment immediately called to mind The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury, where science fiction flirts with the fantastic and space conquest becomes as much an introspective journey as a discovery of the unknown. Echoing this idea, I also reference Andrei Tarkovsky’s cinematic interpretation of Stanisław Lem’s Solaris, in which the exploration of outer space becomes a metaphor for confronting our inner landscapes.

From this emerged a pressing question: why romanticize the colonization of Mars while neglecting the urgent need to care for our own planet? Why extend our reach into the galaxy only to replicate the same patterns of destruction? As Neil deGrasse Tyson sharply pointed out, “If you have that much technology to fly to another planet through black holes and things, it seems to me you have enough technology to fix the blight on the crops on Earth.” His words echo a growing unease—the concern that the dream of colonizing new worlds often masks a refusal to heal the one we already inhabit.

It is within this tension—between technological ambition and ecological responsibility—that this photographic project takes root. Suspended between fascination and unease, it challenges our perception of exploration and the narratives we construct about the places we choose to settle—or abandon.

Thus, Las Crónicas Maguénesas was conceived: a photographic project that reimagines our world through the lens of an unfamiliar reality. By weaving together irony and discrepancy, the work invites reflection on our relationship with exploration, environmental responsibility, and the stories we tell about the places we call home.

Deak Dorottya

Dog days

Deak Dorottya

"The spectacle is what remains, once activity is stripped away; it is the opposite of dialogue. Wherever representation becomes independent, the spectacle regenerates itself.”

(Guy Debord, The Society of the Spectacle)

‘Dog days’ is a commentary on the extremes of the mass-touristic experience. It is the photographic documentation of the collective performance of an exemplary, pre-designed ‘visit’. It is also a visual contemplation on how such a trip changes our point of view and means of connection with the surrounding world. The trip narrated here, is the one created by Timanfaya National Park in Lanzarote, a highly designed bussing experience on the site of the former volcanic eruptions.

After crossing the main gate, one may only leave their vehicles upon arriving at the parking lot following a short drive. This is to change from the car to one of the lined up buses and to visit, on return, the restaurant. The ride on the coaches takes 35-40 minutes and follows a wiggling, one-way route through the landscape. Constrained to their seats or near the aisle, passengers are taking photographs of the scenery through the reflective windows never smelling, touching, or seeing anything in its totality, their time dictated by schedule. The surreal, theme-park and/or simulation like experience, is the extreme manifestation of mass-tourism’s unengaged spectatorship and alienation, where the attempt at connection happens through a double-screen, the screen of the bus and the camera(mobile), in quick impulses of consuming and memorialising the spectacle.

The narrative-like documentation of the bus ride, arranged in a long line, emphasises the forward movement through space, the unfolding of a never fully unfolding territory. The inaccessibility of the place is further amplified by the inserted images of local maps. An even more extreme abstraction and rendering of a space onto a flat surface, they are created for the consumption and navigation of otherwise incomprehensible territories- just as the ride was also intended to do so. The name of the work, ‘Dog Days’, draws on the original meaning(s) of the expression, referencing a period of the most intense heat of the year as well as a generic sense of inactivity and decline, a sort of demoralization. Through these connotations, it brings into the imagination the fire-moulded landscape, the scorching heat of the lava, the period of the volcanic eruption - the fantasy of a spectacle also amplified through dramatic music and trilingual narration during the route. At the same time, it is also a reference to the passivity of the mass-touristic enterprise, to the decline of our capacity for being present and critically reflect on our status as spectators and consumers existing in the liminal space between representation and reality.

Adrianna Chlebicka

Still lives

Adrianna Chlebicka

The island of Lanzarote has a specific atmosphere. The moment you land there, you realise how quiet and remote this place is. Whether it’s in the capital city of Arrecife or one of the smaller towns, beaches or up on the hills, it always remains quite eerie, uncanny.

The rough landscape, the simple architecture and a cloudless sky aren’t exactly gentle on the eye. Quite the opposite- the vast, bare spaces overwhelm you at first. It is a huge difference to someone coming from mainland Europe.

There, it feels as if life stands still. With these thoughts in mind, I travelled around the island capturing moments of stillness. They are spotted anywhere and everywhere. Neither they have a definite, universal structure. Yet, as I went on working, some places started to look similar to each other. You notice the same patterns repeating themselves.

The same palm tree, the same building, the same road that I have already seen before somewhere else. It’s this repetition or rather, an ongoing loop that only accentuates the uncanniness I have felt whilst being there.

The more you look at these photographs, the more you realise that those still moments become found still lives of the island.

Ekaterina Egorova

Colonisation & Adaptation Traces

Ekaterina Egorova

In this project, I explore how biological, historical, and technological processes of colonization shape and transform environments. I approach the idea of a colony as a dynamic system of layered arrivals—where each phase depends on the previous one, forming interconnected ecosystems.

My interest lies in the parallels between natural adaptation and human intervention: how organisms and technologies reshape space, respond to external conditions, and create structures for collective survival. These patterns of transformation reveal deeper connections between living systems and the tools we use to control or collaborate with nature.

Working across photography, video, and data-driven visualization, I combine observation with algorithmic modelling to trace these processes. Through this works I reflect on how colonization—natural or artificial—continues to evolve, leaving visible and invisible marks on the landscape.

Josephine Kowalewsky

How to be a landscape

Josephine Kowalewsky

How to be a landscape is a series of self-portraits taken in Lanzarote, a volcanic island with an arid climate where adaptation to extreme conditions has long been a necessity. In the context of the climate crisis, the human ability for adaptation will become increasingly relevant.
This work explores adaptation—not as a survival strategy, but as a visual and physical experiment.

In each image, the body is positioned within the landscape, attempting to merge with it. Rather than imposing itself, it follows the terrain—passive, tentative, and absorbed. The attempt is deliberate but naive, a quiet game of hide and seek with nature. At first glance, the body may seem integrated, but on closer inspection,
it remains exposed—human, vulnerable, and displaced.

This project examines the limits of adaptation. It highlights the contrast between the softness of the body and the roughness of the surroundings, emphasizing both the vulnerability of human presence in nature and the impossibility of full integration. The work reflects on the tension between the desire to belong and the unavoidable separation from the environment, raising questions about our relationship with nature in a time of ecological crisis.