The stereotypical idea of pregnancy is a challenge for persons who do not define themselves as female only. This auto-theoretical essay explores the future of the family and non-binary reproduction scenarios in which all bodies can become pregnant. We travel into the womb of a posthuman and follow speculations about the de-feminisation of childbearing.

A lovingly designed mini-drama about a droll puppet with a button nose and jug ears in scary situations we all remember from our childhood. The horror on the one-metre board under which a bottomless abyss is yawning. The panic when the door of a public toilet won’t open. Every scene illustrates children’s fears, and we don’t laugh about a little man in distress but about ourselves.

A young Swiss woman searches for her Armenian roots. Various lovingly animated drawers of the simultaneously accumulating family archive open. This very personal examination of collective traumas of post-migrant communities finds images and words for racism and the difficulties of talking about feelings with male family members. Its leitmotif is a wardrobe roaming through night-blue landscapes which – despite the cracks – holds everything and everyone together.

Stars are shining in the evening sky, the sea is lapping against the shore, Esther is standing on the beach with her telescope. She cannot get enough of the celestial bodies! A fish creature appears, looks into the front end of the telescope and gets on Esther’s nerves. Whatever is so interesting about these stars, the sea dweller asks. After all, the underwater world also has some luminous discoveries to offer!

Oh dear, the nightingale has no feathers! The other birds are laughing at her because she can’t fly. Her singing, however, lulls the little bear to sleep. Even the squirrels stop fighting and listen. When autumn comes and the nightingale catches a cold, she feels much too sick to sing. The other animals will have to come up with something …

Shimmering lines intertwine constantly to create ever new digital webs. The third dimension is added by diagonals. A moving camera allows us to finally recognise the secret that the visual elements have kept hidden so far: A 3D model of the Kunsthaus Basel creative centre disentangles itself – only to fade back into the luminous void.

It’s spring and the little bird discovers the first leaves on his tree. Already the buds open and the bee comes buzzing. Curious, the little bird stumbles after it and almost overlooks the fox who is growling hungrily again. After the farting caterpillar last year, the bird can now be happy about a new companion.

In early 2020, the lockdown has brought the world to a halt. Homes become space stations, hermetically sealed off from the outside world. Nobody goes out, only the thoughts go wandering. Students of seven international universities exchange personal impressions of and reflections on this forced isolation online and get to know each other through this joint project.

Nikola is a son, husband and grandson who teams up with his wife Corina to make a film about this. At its centre is his mother Dida who, due to a learning disability, has always been dependent on Nikola’s grandmother and lives with her in a small two-room flat. So far, so good. But Granny is getting old and Dida longs for independence. So it’s up to Nikola, who suddenly finds himself in charge. A charming look at a family in transition.

It’s a constant back and forth, as the couple live in Switzerland while mother Dida and Granny Dobrila live in Belgrade. No sooner have Corina and Nikola stepped out of the bus in one place when they find themselves on the return journey. Or is it the outward journey? Grandmother and daughter are a functional-dysfunctional team – one of them the brain, the other the executing body. The fact that Dida is much more than a shadow of her carer becomes apparent when Dobrila increasingly withdraws into an observer’s position. How can the grandson take over his grandmother’s duties without trading his own independence for that of his mother? The two directors succeed in making a touching film about the inescapable changes in their family without slipping into heaviness, working with lots of humour and a camera that seems to be present under any circumstances.

Doing research in Swiss museums, Sri Lankan artist Deneth Piumakshi Veda Arachchige comes across objects in storage that were collected as evidence of the life of an Indigenous Adivasi community in her country. Even though Switzerland had no colonies, it benefited from the colonial system. Between 1883 and 1913, naturalists Fritz and Paul Sarasin organised expeditions to British Ceylon and the Dutch East Indies. They explored these areas – assisted by forced labourers – and brought exotic animals, plants and artefacts, as well as human skulls and skeletons to Basel: The result was one of the largest ethnological collections in German-speaking Europe – paradigmatic of colonial violence and Eurocentric scientific pretensions. Sri Lanka demanded their return as early as the 1970s, but Switzerland refused.
Deneth Piumakshi Veda Arachchige travels along the Sarasins’ route and, together with Adivasi representatives, campaigns once again for restitution. An obstacle course through bureaucracy and rigid museum structures begins. The film consistently follows the interdisciplinary artist and co-author of the script as she creatively and investigatively negotiates ownership issues, shedding a highly uncomfortable light on the colonial entanglements and their still existing blind spots in the global North.

“Can we be moved by the disappearance of rhinos if we have never experienced the feeling of a butterfly walking on our hand?” Marcel Barelli asks not without pathos, but hitting the mark, in his animated manifesto. He is quoting Daniel Pauly’s Shifting Baseline Syndrome Theory: We humans always measure normality by our own experience and not by historical changes and therefore tend to accept environmental destruction. This is not the only allusion in Barelli’s compact three-minute-film: He references the “sixth extinction”, the current human-caused extinction of the species, and the hourglass symbol of the Extinction Rebellion movement. His film, however, which should definitely be understood as a call for active resistance, embeds these reflections artistically.
With his evaporating water animation on paper, Barelli has chosen a simple and consistent animation technique whose ephemeral character perfectly captures species extinction and oblivion. Archive material is added. Unlike the “Cinétracts” pamphlet films from 1968 that he admires, but just as forceful, he has chosen a contemporary, personal approach. He touchingly weaves his theses into his own biography: Family pictures point to a time when Barelli himself “played with dinosaurs and ate chicken”.

With darkness comes fear, and with fear the light disappears. During a dive together, sunken memories rise in “him”. And just like the process of sedimentation, when the lake “rots”, the open water becomes a swamp. Growing anxiety accelerates the breath to the rhythm of the increasingly intense lyrical language. Meanwhile the power of the vortices and expressive Swiss-German tone serve to tint and shape this captivatingly graphical sand animation.

The motif of movement in film is a core element of Peter Mettler’s award-winning body of work: His journey here takes us from Canada via the USA to Switzerland and as far as India, the filmed moments associatively unfolding a tableau about different people. They are all, each in their own way, looking for transcendence and ecstasy. In this hypnotic trip about time and transience, the director is always ready to engage with the unexpected. His attitude is marked by curiosity and impartiality. Well over a hundred hours of footage feed into a brilliant montage in which transition and rapture also find visual and acoustic correspondences.

A short yes and a long but. A man in a plaid shirt says a friendly hello and rhapsodizes about travelling to southern countries. But when he returns, he finds those southern foreigners have been swept, yes, into Switzerland. That’s not good. Not good at all! Every sentence fires up the next. The longer his hate-rant lasts, the redder and madder the otherwise friendly plaid man grows.

Animals have no “LGBTQIA*”, they simply are and do, practicing gender, sexuality and family constellations according to desire and necessity. There is still a lot to discover here, as Marcel Barelli reports. He went stalking, observing and listening closely. Briskly animated and wittily narrated, he tells of fantastic zoological caprices and miraculous relationships.

As she visits an exhibition, a graphic designer is mesmerised by the photocollages of the anti-fascist John Heartfield, who became known as the “montage dada.” Stefanie falls through a vortex of paper and photo snippets into an old-fashioned looking studio. A pair of scissors – an analogue tool she herself hardly uses – attracts her attention. She begins to cut a figure out of cardboard, a miniature version of the artist who at once addresses her and explores his life and works with her. The studio turns out to be a living archive that ceaselessly produces documents and information about Johnny. The research gives Stefanie, stressed and disappointed by her job, new motivation, and the courage to choose a different path as a designer.

Both protagonists have the same profession and find themselves facing the same questions about the significance and recognition of their work. Both are struggling in their own way with frustration and fears, caused by the different social and political circumstances of their generations. The different elements of this animated documentary come together in a dialogic collage that reflects on the mission of art, its educative and critical power, and its potential to bring about changes in our society.