As Summer Comes

Here, under Vinyet Feliubadaló’s gaze, these fleeting gestures seem to settle into something more visible, a kind of brotherhood that reveals itself without ever needing to be defined. Within a sun-washed summer house, light filters through open spaces, as the outside is never entirely kept out. It feels cinematic; the setting itself seems to both absorb and reflect. The five boys, Simone Bricchi, Toni Engonga, Noah Tumataroa, Pape Moundor, and Arnau Pons, appear in fragments of closeness, in shared glances, in the ease of simply being alongside one another.

At times, they gather, bodies loosely arranged across grass or water, proximity feeling effortless, almost incidental. At others, they drift apart, each one held in his own space, attention turning elsewhere without urgency. A figure stretches mid-air above the others, suspended for a second that feels both playful and weightless, while another remains still, half submerged, watching without interrupting.

Elsewhere, they lean into the table, into the act of eating, gestures becoming more immediate, less contained. The dynamic shifts quietly, moving between stillness and motion, between presence and retreat, as if something connects them without ever needing to fully reveal itself.

Sleeveless shirts, faded denim, fabric resting lightly against the skin, nothing appears forced into place. There is a balance between structure and looseness, between pieces that feel worn-in and others that hold their shape, echoing the same subtle shifts in how they relate to one another. What is worn begins to feel less like a statement and more like an extension of something already unfolding.

It lingers there, not in what is made explicit, but in what resists being fully seen, as if whatever connects them exists independently of the moment, continuing beyond the frame, untouched, unspoken, and still in motion.