Hand to Mouth
Coming back after 10 years to the city I see that Budapest has expanded, grown. In other parts it emptied out, got abandoned, or rearranged. The city's circulation has become denser, its heart is still the Deák Square, its lungs the Danube. The built environment with its dense web of animate and inanimate creatures almost swallows me up. The city just like a body lives and moves as an entity on its own, it breathes, consumes, excretes, digests and defecates. The robust body of the city and its various organs are inhabited by specific organisms, the people. How does it feel to be part of a larger body? What kind of entity is this city?
To find a structure for our film we chose the strategy of intersecting the body of the city along the 'worker's ring' which is an outdated urban plan of Budapest, which would have cut through different suburbian neighborhoods, to make it easier for its residents and workers to move. This plan has not been realized but we use this invisible belt' as the axis of our search, visiting the public spaces, industrial estates, private and public workplaces, pubs, shops and workers' hostels along the route.
We are making an archive of the people who move, live and work here to get to know the city from their perspective, from their distance to the city. They include a master blacksmith, a rail welder, a pub owner who is a kindergarten teacher by day, and a pensioner living in a worker’s home. The film is a witness to the lives of the characters and therefore to the present condition of the city.
The protagonists have a close and dependent relationship with Budapest. The city almost consumes them, but they are so involved in it that despite their difficult circumstances, they cannot leave. All of them have suffered some kind of injuries in their bodies in the course of their lifestyle and work. Their physical injuries are the injuries of the city.
To find a structure for our film we chose the strategy of intersecting the body of the city along the 'worker's ring' which is an outdated urban plan of Budapest, which would have cut through different suburbian neighborhoods, to make it easier for its residents and workers to move. This plan has not been realized but we use this invisible belt' as the axis of our search, visiting the public spaces, industrial estates, private and public workplaces, pubs, shops and workers' hostels along the route.
We are making an archive of the people who move, live and work here to get to know the city from their perspective, from their distance to the city. They include a master blacksmith, a rail welder, a pub owner who is a kindergarten teacher by day, and a pensioner living in a worker’s home. The film is a witness to the lives of the characters and therefore to the present condition of the city.
The protagonists have a close and dependent relationship with Budapest. The city almost consumes them, but they are so involved in it that despite their difficult circumstances, they cannot leave. All of them have suffered some kind of injuries in their bodies in the course of their lifestyle and work. Their physical injuries are the injuries of the city.
Home is a Dollhouse
Home is a Dollhouse is a personal documentary told through first-person narration, fictionalized reconstructions and filmed encounters between me and my previously estranged mother. Blending personal archives and imagined home videos, the film traces an emotional journey from silence to reconnection in the context of female narratives and transgenerational trauma. My mother, Adrienn left Hungary to become an actress in Los Angeles, leaving behind an abusive father, a volatile family, and eventually, me. While she pursued her career, I was passed between relatives in Hungary, including my grandparents, resulting in me living in over 25 apartments. We were eventually reunited, but we never spoke about why she left. I try to reconnect with her to answer the lingering question: Why leave me in the very environment she had struggled to escape from?
The visual language of Home is a Dollhouse recreates the fragmented structure of memory. I reconstruct scenes from my mother’s life as fictional archives, based on our conversations, trying to understand this period in our lives. The viewer slowly discovers that these archives are staged. As the film progresses, my mother becomes a collaborator: Should a scene be reshot to reflect her truth rather than mine? Alongside these reconstructions, I work with the fragmented material archives of my childhood (Barbie houses, napkin collections, diaries), objects my mother preserved, now scattered across storage units. I gather these remnants to restage memories and evoke the experience of a child growing up without her mother.
The visual language of Home is a Dollhouse recreates the fragmented structure of memory. I reconstruct scenes from my mother’s life as fictional archives, based on our conversations, trying to understand this period in our lives. The viewer slowly discovers that these archives are staged. As the film progresses, my mother becomes a collaborator: Should a scene be reshot to reflect her truth rather than mine? Alongside these reconstructions, I work with the fragmented material archives of my childhood (Barbie houses, napkin collections, diaries), objects my mother preserved, now scattered across storage units. I gather these remnants to restage memories and evoke the experience of a child growing up without her mother.