Pavilion of Ecuador at the 61st International Art Exhibition
La Biennale di Venezia
At the 61st International Art Exhibition, the Pavilion of Ecuador positions itself not as a site of representation, but as a methodological proposition. Tawna & Óscar resists the logic of spectacle, acceleration, and interpretive closure that often structures the biennial format. Instead, it proposes art as a practice of attention-a durational, relational, and embodied mode of engaging with knowledge, territory, and coexistence.

Curated by Manuela Moscoso and commissioned by the Museum of Anthropology and Contemporary Art (MAAC), the pavilion departs from dominant epistemological models grounded in hierarchy, extraction, and universalism. It advances a situated position that understands knowledge as something produced through relation, rather than accumulated, classified, or owned.

Bringing together the practices of Óscar Santillán and the anti-colonial collective TAWNA, the project sustains an open field of encounter. Their meeting does not seek synthesis, coherence, or mutual translation. Instead, it holds space for co-presence without reduction, allowing distinct ontologies and modes of world-making to remain irreducible yet in relation.
Manuela Moscoso
Curator
Manuela Moscoso is a curator and arts leader, currently serving as the inaugural Executive and Artistic Director of CARA – Center for Art, Research and Alliances, and Curator of the 2ª Bienal das Amazônias (2025). She previously held senior curatorial roles at Museo Tamayo in Mexico City and Liverpool Biennial 2021, and was Co-Director of CAPACETE in Rio de Janeiro and Curator of the Bienal de Cuenca (2014). She is also co-founder of Zarigüeya and the editorial platform Rivet.

Her practice focuses on artistic processes, corporeality, relationality, and the political dimensions of art. She writes and contributes to international publications, lectures widely, and serves on advisory boards and juries for major contemporary art platforms.
Óscar Santillán
is an Ecuadorian artist whose work explores science, ancestral technologies, and the vitality of all matter—challenging distinctions between the living and the “inert.” After an unconventional path that began with writing, he studied at ITAE in Ecuador, earned an MFA in Sculpture from Virginia Commonwealth University, and later became an artist-in-residence at the Jan van Eyck Foundation, shaping a practice between the Netherlands and Ecuador.

His recent work centers on the concept of the “Anti-world,” proposing a planetary imagination that moves beyond dominant frameworks and dissolves boundaries between natural and artificial realms. Santillán has exhibited internationally at major institutions and biennials, is the author of several publications, and is actively engaged in art education as an advisor and visiting professor.
TAWNA
TAWNA is an anti-colonial collective formed by Sápara, Kichwa, and mestizo artists who create from the Amazon rainforest as a territory of memory, resistance, and vision. Founded in 2017, their multidisciplinary practice spans video, photography, living archives, and community-based educational processes, reimagining narratives through dreams, ritual, and embodied knowledge. Rooted in Amazonian cosmologies, TAWNA connects territories and futures through collective storytelling grounded in place.

Their work has been presented internationally in major exhibitions and biennials, including projects at Museo Reina Sofía, Tate Modern, the Cuenca Biennial, and the 2ª Bienal das Amazônias (2025). They are recipients of the E·CO/23 grant and the National Geographic Storytellers program for their documentary Allpamanda, and their films have screened at numerous international festivals.
Against Epistemic Closure
Tawna & Óscar challenges the epistemic regimes that continue to structure contemporary art institutions-regimes that privilege legibility, discursivity, and mastery. In contrast, the pavilion foregrounds forms of knowledge that are embodied, relational, affective, and temporal, often marginalized within dominant cultural frameworks.

Emerging from Andean-Amazonian territories marked by linguistic, cultural, and ecological plurality, the project refuses to frame knowledge as a stable object of representation. Knowledge here circulates through bodies, languages, and territories; it unfolds through repetition, transmission, and care. Rather than producing a singular narrative, the pavilion operates as a site of attentiveness, inviting visitors to slow down and remain with what cannot be immediately resolved.
Curator Manuela Moscoso frames Tawna y Óscar as a field of tension in which different ways of sustaining worlds coexist without collapsing into a single system. The project approaches knowledge not as accumulation but as circulation, and memory not as archive but as a practice of return and use. In the dialogue between Tawna and Óscar Santillán, worlds are not synthesized; they are held in active proximity, where the commons and futurity are continuously reworked and renegotiated.
TAWNA’s practice is grounded in Pan-Amazonian ways of thinking, where knowledge is inseparable from the body, territory, and dreaming. Working with ritual, language, and living archives, the collective proposes an alternative model of artistic production-one based on care, co-presence, and continuity. The following questions unfold the internal logic of their practice and its ethical positioning within a global exhibition framework.

How do ritual and dreaming operate as epistemic practices within your work?

-Our work is grounded in activating the imaginaries of the Ecuadorian Amazonian nationalities, primarily Sapara and Kichwa, of which members of our collective are part. Dreaming is not a metaphor but a method: it is a device of knowledge and a form of political and spiritual orientation.


In our narratives, the human and the nonhuman coexist as equivalent presences - as agencies that think and act. Living alongside the forest, the community, and a territory violated by extractive activities and everyday aggressions shapes our visual and sonic language.


We seek to rethink colonialism not in order to repeat it, but to tension and overflow it - narrating from our own perspectives. We use Western instruments such as cameras, yet we displace them from their original function and reappropriate them, making them our own as tools of resistance. We replace hierarchical forms with modes of creation consistent with Indigenous organization, where decision-making is collective and grounded in respect for the territory.

What does it mean to work with living archives in opposition to institutionalized forms of memory?

-Our grandmothers and grandfathers embody an archive that breathes. The knowledge transmitted by their ancestors is not a dead document but a living practice, transformed through each experience.


Working with living archives means recovering what was taken by the West and reactivating those images to grant them new meanings - rewriting history from our own perspective. We do not seek to romanticize or objectify cultures, but to affirm the bonds that sustain us, because everything has life and everything is interconnected.


The archive lives in oral transmission, in ceramics, in songs, in language, and in the territory itself.

TAWNA: Language Beyond Representation
TAWNA’s practice is grounded in Pan-Amazonian epistemologies that conceive existence as an active continuity among bodies, territories, and forces. Working with video, photography, and living archives, the collective develops artistic processes rooted in ritual, dreaming, sexuality, and community-based experience.

Within this framework, language does not function as a representational tool operating at a distance. It is understood as a material and performative force, actively participating in the constitution of reality. Language becomes a site where personal, collective, and spiritual dimensions intersect, and where knowledge is produced through shared experience rather than abstract mediation.

How does language function beyond representation within your artistic processes?

-The language we propose destabilizes Western structures of reading. It does not merely represent; it produces experience and positioning. It is a sensitive form of knowledge that shares ways of life without fully translating them.


Some knowledge is not exposed, because care is also a form of resistance. We invite rebellion, discomfort, and reflection as critical gestures. Our works stand in defense of life, of the body, of freedom of expression, and of the territory.

What frictions emerge when community knowledge enters the global art context?

-For years, others spoke for us and interpreted our practices through Western frameworks. Yet art and its interpretation are situated.


What has been named “art” from the outside does not always align with our understanding, because for us it implies a different relationship to life. We are often positioned within folklore, our work romanticized, or we are placed in the position of the Other.


For us, it is important to deactivate that distance and occupy the same level of appreciation - not as a quota of diversity, but as a production of knowledge with equal symbolic value.

How do you understand the ethical position of the viewer within your work?

-The viewer does not occupy a passive place; they are called into relation. The work is a space of encounter where looking implies responsibility. It is not only about observing an image or a body, but about listening to a living territory, a river that walks, a memory that persists.


The one who looks decides whether to remain distant or to allow the experience to transform them. It is one culture crossing into another - or into itself. The ethics of the viewer are activated when they recognize that they too are part of the fabric that sustains or threatens life.

How do members of the group relate to their territorial origins and nationality as part of their identities?

-Territory is identity. Not all of us come from Indigenous peoples, but we all work in close relationship with the Amazon rainforest and share a history of anti-extractivist activism. The struggle in the territories of Amazonian peoples is a daily struggle.


Within the territory lives our living memory - our stories and our languages. Not only the spoken language, but the one we trace in our projects, the one we constantly weave. We learned to listen and to see through dreams; that sensitivity guides our practice.


Our way of life revolves around a union with the forest: we are part of the forest, and the forest is part of us.

“Knowledge exists only insofar as it continues to circulate; memory persists through return and use rather than through archive.”

Curator Manuela Moscoso

How are care and responsibility articulated in a matriarchal way within your practices?

-In our culture there was no rigid division between matriarchy and patriarchy, but rather a system in which men and women shared social, spiritual, and political roles horizontally. With the intervention of religion and the State, those forms were displaced. Recovering that memory means reinstating care as an organizing axis. Responsibility is collective: we listen, deliberate, and reflect together on how to act and how to build, maintaining energy in balance so as not to affect creation.


Those with deeper spiritual formation accompany the process through the use of medicinal plants and counsel. Care is fundamental to our artistic practice.

Óscar Santillán’s artistic practice explores zones of indeterminacy-spaces that elude established systems of order and knowledge. Bridging scientific speculation, technology, and ancestral epistemologies, he approaches indeterminacy not as a lack, but as a fundamental condition of life. The questions below engage with the methodological and philosophical foundations of his work within the context of the pavilion.

How do you mobilize indeterminacy as a methodological position rather than an aesthetic gesture?

-I approach indeterminacy as a methodological condition rather than an aesthetic effect by designing processes that resist closure. Instead of illustrating uncertainty, I construct situations in which knowledge remains provisional-where materials, data, and contexts exceed the frameworks meant to contain them. Indeterminacy operates as a structural principle within the work, allowing it to question how realities are produced, stabilized, and naturalized.

How do scientific and ancestral epistemologies intersect in your work without being hierarchized?

-In my practice, different knowledge systems operate as parallel modes of inquiry rather than as competing authorities. I resist framing one as empirical truth and the other as symbolic narrative. Instead, I approach both as technologies for perceiving and engaging with the world. Their encounter does not aim at synthesis but at resonance-revealing knowledge as situated, relational, and contingent. What emerges is not hierarchy, but a shifting field in which multiple ways of knowing remain distinct while existing in dialogue.

Óscar Santillán: Indeterminacy as Method
Óscar Santillán’s practice operates at the limits of established ontologies. Drawing from scientific inquiry, emerging technologies, and ancestral knowledge systems, his work foregrounds indeterminacy not as ambiguity, but as a methodological and ethical position.

By destabilizing boundaries between the natural and the artificial, the terrestrial and the cosmic, Santillán proposes reality as a contingent and continuously negotiated condition. His engagement with the concept of the “Anti-world” does not posit an alternative reality, but rather insists on the incompleteness of dominant systems of order, opening space for other modes of perception and relation.

What critical work does the concept of the “Anti-world” perform today?

-The “Anti-world” performs a critical function by exposing the limits of the hegemonic world—the normative structures that determine what is considered real, possible, or imaginable. It challenges the assumption that reality must be organized through a single, coherent framework and reveals the exclusions embedded within dominant systems. Rather than simple opposition, the Anti-world proposes the coexistence of multiple worlds within the same planetary condition, expanding the field of what can be sensed, thought, and inhabited.

“What emerges is a contested ground in which the commons and futurity are worked through, negotiated through how worlds are inhabited, carried forward, and kept alive.”

Curator Manuela Moscoso

How do emerging technologies participate in your understanding of relational ontologies?

-Emerging technologies function as instruments for expanding relational ontologies. They make perceptible the entanglements between the terrestrial, the technological, and the cosmic, revealing systems that exceed the human scale. Rather than positioning technology as external to nature, I approach it as another layer within a continuum of relations-an active participant in the ongoing reconfiguration of what we understand as being and world.

What perceptual or cognitive shifts do you seek to activate through this project?

-I seek to activate perceptual and cognitive shifts that unsettle the assumption of a single, stable reality. Rather than offering alternative images of the world, the work destabilizes the frameworks through which reality is organized and perceived. It suggests that what we call “the real” is constructed through interacting scientific, technological, cultural, and cosmological systems. By engaging indeterminacy and relationality, the project cultivates a planetary imagination-an awareness that multiple ontologies coexist simultaneously, often beyond immediate perception.

How did the encounter with TAWNA destabilize or expand your own practice?

-The encounter with TAWNA expanded my practice by introducing a radically embodied and communal epistemology into dialogue with my conceptual frameworks. While my work often engages science and speculative systems, TAWNA foregrounds relational knowledge grounded in territory, ritual, sexuality, and dreaming as living technologies. Their approach challenged my tendency toward abstraction by insisting on lived, situated experience. Rather than merging our practices, the collaboration created a productive tension-an open field where distinct ontological positions coexist without synthesis, expanding my understanding of collaboration beyond formal exchange.

How do you define coexistence as an artistic and ethical condition?

-I understand coexistence as both an artistic strategy and an ethical condition. Artistically, it means constructing spaces where different systems of thought-scientific, ancestral, technological-can remain distinct yet in relation. Ethically, it implies resisting the impulse to absorb or translate difference into a single dominant framework. Coexistence is not harmony; it is the sustained negotiation of plurality. It requires acknowledging that the world is composed of overlapping realities that cannot be reduced to one narrative. In this sense, coexistence becomes a commitment to planetary multiplicity-holding space for irreducible difference while recognizing our shared entanglement.

An Ethics of Coexistence
Crucially, the encounter between TAWNA and Santillán resists the curatorial impulse toward reconciliation or harmony. The Pavilion of Ecuador maintains a productive tension in which difference remains operative rather than resolved. Art functions here as an ethical infrastructure-a practice capable of sustaining openness, vulnerability, and relational accountability.

Rather than asserting a fixed national identity, Tawna & Óscar articulates a contemporary position grounded in situated knowledge, material responsibility, and relational thinking. It offers not a representation of Ecuador, but a set of tools for thinking with the present and for imagining plural, coexisting worlds.
Today, Tawna & Óscar becomes a direct invitation to participate in an artistic process that rethinks forms of knowledge, territorial relations, and modes of coexistence. This is a moment not to be missed-not only because Ecuador re-enters the global artistic dialogue, but because this pavilion asks viewers to reconsider what it means to be genuinely engaged in an artistic event.

Attending the opening is not simply an opportunity to encounter new projects within the context of the Biennale; it is a chance to enter a dialogue that reshapes how art-and the world itself-can be perceived. Rejecting standard modes of representation, the pavilion proposes practices that speak to the body, language, history, and futurity. It is essential viewing not only for those already embedded in the art world, but for anyone seeking to understand how contemporary art can move beyond being a window onto the world and instead become an active means of reimagining and transforming it.