In February 1976, a film crew traveled to Antarctica aboard the Argentine icebreaker ARA General San Martín. What they left behind — anonymous negatives, audio tapes, handwritten notes — was found decades later in a Buenos Aires attic, without names and without a film. Australis begins there, with a fragmentary archive suspended between expedition, disappearance, and rediscovery: a set of images rescued from oblivion, carrying the silence of the Antarctic landscape and the unresolved mystery of those who once recorded it.

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Each photograph is printed onto glass through a different process: layered panels, sealed water, white ink visible only under light, or the original negative encapsulated inside the work. The dust, color decay, and forty-five years of deterioration are preserved, not corrected. Two moments are held at once: 1976 and now. Begun during the COVID-19 quarantine, Australis continues as an open investigation into memory, fragility, material presence, and the unstable life of images as they move across time, matter, and light.