Hilde Camacho

We got to rent a place to be 100% dedicated as our art studio and although was not planned, we are living in Portugal since last year February.

We were in Uganda and decided to have a break for a few months after intense 3 years working almost strait in the humanitarian sector – building and managing primary health clinics and emergency hospital in crisis situations.

We’ve been in Greece, in an Afeghan Refugee camp; in Iraq, outside of Mosul, while ISIS was being defected; and Uganda, in a Refugee Setlement with 120,000 + Congolese refugees.

So, when we traveled to Portugal, we didn’t plan to stay long. But we ended up staying and decided to use our experience from the last 3 years and try to use our art skills to share some stories.

Refuge. Protection.

We all came from different realities. We live in different ways, each one its own way. We see from different angles, each one with its own sight. We see. And we don’t. But we are and we have. And we don’t. We live and don’t really care. Because we have. Because we can be. Because we are. Protected. Refugees. Without thinking about, without care about, without wanting. Because we are… and we really are. Blessed.

Grito. Scream.

Silent scream. Without words, without actions, just being. Many are part of the ones who oppressed, without knowing, without words. But are. And try to help the ones that are oppressed, not knowing they are oppressed. But somehow knowing. Silence. Different languages, different cultures, different worlds. In this same world. Stop. Scream. Share.

Or.

Either you or me. But I know. I’m the one who knows. Instant. Immediately. and media. Instagram. Media. Social. Networks. Connections. In a world where ‘I’ it seems to be the most important. Superficially. Today. It’s true. The ‘I’ is irrelevant, insignificant. Deeply. Always. All are I. I is everything. In a society where only the ‘I’ matters. It’s a lie.