On foreign soil /2020
In spring 2020, when the borders were closed to stop the spread of the virus there was a weird moment when seasonal workers from, let’s say, less fortunate countries in Eastern Europe were granted the unique ‘privilege’ of being allowed to travel: international flights were mostly cancelled but Romanians and Ukrainians were still being brought in to pick Western European crops. When everything was on hold you could still travel if you were an agricultural worker. Or an agricultural product.
During the whole spring, I’ve been collecting tiny bits of soil that were stuck to imported potatoes from my local supermarkets, here in Poland. By July when they switched from imported potatoes to local crops, I had amassed a decent handful of Spanish soil and a bit of Greek too.
I invited my Ukrainian friends to ‘travel’ with me to foreign lands — even if it meant only stepping onto a thin layer of foreign soil, barely large enough to fit one person.
This project is an ironic sidenote commentary on the weird shape that migration politics and the globalised capitalist economy took in the times of the pandemic crisis.
Olena on Spanish soil
Lia on Spanish soil
Andrii on Spanish soil
Illia on Spanish soil
Vitalii on Greek soil
Anton on Greek soil