Boyhood is a kingdom of sticks huddled in leafmould, defying autumn.
Motion and stasis, the undergrowth and the sky - a sense of balance meted out to brighten life’s lessons. Even when time huddles close, a cigarette has its place, trapping the minutes to its length and making the cold more visible. Bound by friendship and by blood, the hours show their density. We can watch the Slovenian Žavbi Brothers cultivate this forest with their memories, scattering their present onto the overgrown paths. We can see how Veronika Malačič captures their fraternity like an invisible sister.
Doesn’t it make the air lighter, to see how easy they breathe together? Same lungs, same heart, same blood - linked under the skin, the world they live in will always be a kinder place. With bonds this strong, unbreakable even if you tried, chances are the smiles we see are solid. Even the weight is warmer, has more depth, more thickness. Their eyes, when sad, carry tears that will be caught.
The threads they’re clad in too - styled by Sara Grižon - holding the human, keeping it safe, showing us that we do not need to be sharp to strike the eye. There is strength in softness, in solidarity, that makes you question cutting looks. See how they reach out to each other, probe their own folds, sit loosely in the knowledge the laughter they move through is far deeper than friendship.