Block Party
Scandinavïestraat 155, 9000 Gent
Krystel Geerts
Untitled, 2026
Sébastien Bovie
Renovation -no. 237, 2026
Jason Yates
Lil Honda, 2026
Stefan Tanase
DIY I (dreary valley), 2026
Maxime Le Bon
t-print, 2026
Amber Wynants
Migraine Werks feat. Proun Cherubim, 2026
Verloren Bekisting
Cubercones, 2026
Yaël Bracard
à l’arrache, 2026
Amber Wynants
Migraine Werks feat. Proun Cherubim, 2026
Anna Perenna
We would prefer not to name this piece, 2026
Celine Aernoudt
Visitor, 2026
Willem Roekaers
Untitled, 2026
Int3rz0ne
88x31, 2026
Lukas Neven
Vertical, Horizontal and Vanishing Lines, 2026
Celine Aernoudt
Visitor, 2026
Rémie Vanderhaegen
2 in 1 massage towel with face hole, 2026
Gabriele Garavaglia
Inner Resilience HD, 2024
Experimental Jetset
You are Here / You are Now, 2018 / 2026
Jonatha Blaschke
In a dark room the sun kisses my face, 2026
Yoona
Untitled (the new f@scist body), 2026
Bravas Graphix
BG ENT., 2026
Maxime Le Bon
dd#21, 2023
Willem Roekaers
Untitled, 2026
Eloïse Baele
Throat full of hay, 2026
Baptiste Caccia
Le Fou, 2025
Maxime Le Bon
Found image
Int3rz0ne
88x31, 2026
Maxime Le Bon
Found image
Verloren Bekisting
Cubercones, 2026
Chris Hoeben
Untitled, 2026
Michiel Ceulers
King Kong Kong Breaks Loose Empire State Building
FULL SCENE, 1933
Photos by Lars Duchateau
Joris Strouken
Above the Block
What we call “heroic” is often less a virtue than a position, one repeated until it feels natural, carved into monuments, printed in textbooks, stored in archives. Over time, repetition hardens into truth. Yet what appears inevitable may simply be perspective made invisible.
The miniature city stages that invisibility. We encounter it from above. We look down. From this height, streets become lines, confwicts become shapes, lives become arrangements.
The elevated view promises clarity. It suggests mastery.
For centuries, to see from above has meant to know.
Today, that view is no longer only architectural or cartographic.
It is technological. Drones hover. Satellites register heat signatures. Cities appear as grids. Checkpoints become nodes.
Bodies become movement patterns.
Maps, plans, strategies, all depend on distance. The higher the vantage point, the more legible the terrain. Complexity resolves into pattern. Disorder becomes composition.
But no one lives from above. Within the city, conflict is not a diagram. It is breath, friction, hesitation. It unfolds in time.
It is felt in the body before it is understood in language.
From within, events do not resemble clean structures.
They are dense and unfinished. Phenomenology reminds us of something simple and radical: perception is never detached.
We do not hover outside the world.
We are immersed in it.
Every act of seeing begins in a body, positioned, vulnerable, partial. There is no view from nowhere. Even the most elevated gaze belongs to someone standing some where, often far from the ground that absorbs the impact. The distance between the one who looks and the one who lives is not neutral.
It shapes what becomes visible, what becomes grievable, what becomes history. To frame is to choose. To narrate is to arrange.
To archive is to stabilize a version of events in which violence may appear necessary, defensive, inevitable.
Even mediation (by artist, curator, historian) does not merely transmit; it constructs. And so the question is not only who is hero and who is victim. The question is: from where are we looking?
The present moment intensifies this uncertainty. The story of steady progress, of history advancing in a straight line, has fractured. Crisis surrounds us: power is misused, truth is bent, lies are repeated; and trust, slowly but decisively, dissolves. Yet what feels like collapse may also be reorientation. What feels like ending may be a shift in scale.
In such moments, certainty loosens. The hero in one narrative appears as the oppressor in another. The victim, seen from afar, risks being reduced to a symbol. Narrative authority begins to tremble. Perhaps what remains is attention, a willingness to suspend the rush toward judgment. Are we the worm, bound to the ground, entangled in immediacy? Or the bird, circling above, tracing patterns from a distance? The work shown refuses to let us settle into either role. It compels movement, between immersion and overview, proximity and abstraction.
In that oscillation, something becomes possible: an awareness that seeing is never innocent, that perspective is structured by power, that monuments are built not only from stone, but from decisions about whose violence counts and whose remains unnamed. We look. But from which body? At what distance?
And who, at this very moment, stands beneath that gaze?