No form comes about without its ghost. Like the shadow in relation to its body, the ghost is, from its etymology (phantasma), imagination made visible; an appearance made manifest; a fiction that allows that which exists to be thought of. Like the castle that inhabits the ruin or the peace that inhabits the army, all institutions can be thought of from the phantasmagorias that wander through them.
There is truth to the rumours of spirits in the corridors of the Museo and the rooms of the old hospital remaining today in its exhibition rooms, in the same manner that a work disintegrates in its phases. For instance, the other forms Guernica took on during its process of creation — the pictures that never were — still enchant it, while the very notion of an archive, as an artefact to document a collection, represents a ghost for the Museo. Yet how can performances be collected if by their very nature they leave no trace?
This TIZ reflects on ghostly relationships, the relationships of events with history, of citizens with politics, of inhabitants with the home or of the missing with those still waiting for them. In the month of the dead, we think about mourning and lamenting, memory and forgetting, and forms of presence and disappearance from the unique spectrality which the same idea of a museum imposes upon us.