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magda gourinchas
selected personal projects + experimentations

The horses that visit my dreams

2025

about

For a little over a year, horses have been visiting me in my dreams. They appear where they shouldn’t—standing in the middle of a city street, in my kitchen, or lying next to me as I wait for the metro. I still don’t fully understand these apparitions, but after reading about New York City’s mayor calling for the long-awaited ban on carriage horses—animals that, too, inhabit spaces never meant for them—I felt compelled to bring these images to life, perhaps as a way to begin deciphering the pattern.
Part of the inspiration to recreate these dreamscapes also comes from discovering Sasha Elage’s horse photographs, where he uses color flashes to render the animals dreamlike and strange.

additional info

software → Blender

the little caves within my skull...

2025

about

I’ve spent years wrestling with relentless sinus problems. Over the years, I’ve acumulated a substantial folder of CT scans, MRIs, doctor’s notes, each a close-up dissection of all the nooks and crannies within my face. After my most recent scan, I felt particularly compelled to turn these unsettling documents into something I can interact with, and play with. 
This particular work scrolls through my CT scan slices with a simple hand-tracking setup. A pinching motion lets me flip through layers of tissue and bone, and finger rotation swaps between views (front, top, profile).
I gently excavate what once felt alien into something I can touch, move, and slowly understand. And, in a strange way, it is comforting...

additional info

personal medical documents
software → TouchDesigner
captured → Magda Gourinchas

how many birds would it take to carry my shadow?

2025

about

How Many Birds Would It Take to Carry My Shadow is an immersive, generative installation that reimagines the weightlessness of our shadows. I was inspired by the fluid, collective intelligence of bird murmurations that seem to defy gravity, I began to imagine my weightless shadow take flight.
Using a depth Kinect camera, the work captures bodies in real-time. I convert their silhouettes into point clouds that either scatter or assemble in response to human gestures and live music improvisations.

additional info

software → TouchDesigner
hardware → Kinect V1
captured → Magda Gourinchas & Stephan Zyngier

sound → AMG for Notch Issue 01 Paris Launch @ Frequence 18, Paris + Burns White 3 hour set for Notch "Soft Projections"

Lost Compressions

2024

about

I came across the website Petittube, which randomly displays YouTube videos with little to no views. Captivated by this unseen footage--old family archives, accidental uploads, strange forgotten footage, and everything in between--I found myself thinking about the ways memories are stored, scattered, and ultimately left behind.

We live in an era of relentless documentation. To house it, data centers rise inside residential grids, quietly diverting water, energy, and land toward supporting our swelling archives. But when the people attached to those files are gone, what follows? Most records remain unvisited—not destroyed, just indefinitely present.

This paradox fascinates me: the invisible but immortal archive. Unlike analog film rolls that fade, these files can persist not because of their value, but because perhaps deletion costs more than retention.

We also cannot forget that storage costs money. Our documentation habits are already stratified by income; who can pay for larger plans, redundant backups, or “unlimited” tiers. And the alternative, self-hosting, demands skills, maintenance, and hours many don't have. And I can't help but wonder if the very retention of this unvisited, forgetten data surpresses the making of new records. That is, through the rapid engrossement of major data storing coorporations, will the communities that fall victim to their expansions be pushed into conditions where documenting daily life becomes emotionally harder? By this logic, we are headed towards the quiet narrowing of who gets to record and preserve: and the more we keep everything, the more unevenly we decide who can keep anything at all.

What if these unviewed and forgotten videos could deteriorate over time, and eroded like the memories we keep in our psyches? What would they look like years after their creators have passed? I run the videos through a stable diffusion model I trained based on corrupted video files. This process physically alters and destabilizes the pixels from the original footage. The algorithm recalculates every component—faces, hands, gestures, everyday objects—transforming them into blurred, half-remembered, or perhaps completely reimagined fragments. I try to replicate the way my own memories deteriorate over time: faces lose clarity, details slip away, moments are pushed towards abstraction.

i miss your hands

2022

additional info

wax, eucalyptus leaves from Oakland [CA], eucalyptus essential oil, wick, lighter
captured → Magda Gourinchas

un peu trop souple

[english: a little too flexible]
2022

about

I developed an obsession with graphic novels and comics from the moment I learned to read. With full access to my father’s substantial (and mostly French) collection, I spent countless afternoons leafing through spreads —— analyzing each frame and grappling with storylines that were perhaps a bit mature for my age at the time. I was particularly drawn to the way women were represented or rather, as I would quickly learn once entering my teens, the way women are completely misrepresented within the world of comic books. 
By then, I understood that comic culture —— dominated by both male creators and audiences, and propped up by the uncredited labor of women illustrators and writers —— becomes an echo chamber that amplifies sexist visual tropes. With its most notorious being the hyper-sexualized, and anatomically impossible poses female characters are routinely drawn in. And, as if trained contortionists, these characters strike twists that almost always deliberately showcase their breasts, buttocks, and faces.

source: heroine poses in question, via eschergirls.ca

Un Peu Trop Souple [EN: A Little Too Flexible] confronts the absurdity and flips the visual logic on its head. Using a Kinect depth camera to capture my own body in real time, I force myself into those absurd, bone-breaking “superheroine” postures. The software struggles to resolve my joints —— resulting in a glitchy rig and intentionally messy animation. I ultimately want to highlight the fundamental anatomical absurdity of these poses and moreover expecting any body —— print, digital, or flesh —— to conform.

additional info

I heavily referenced the eschergirls.ca humor/feminist art commentary site run by anti-oppression activist, Ami Angelwings.

I highly recommend getting lost within this rich archive of satirical and heavily misogynistic documents. It is terrifyingly endless...

software → TouchDesigner, Kinect Studio (SDK)
hardware → Kinect V1
captured → Magda Gourinchas

how to make a nest out of your own hair

2022

instructions

step 01 ~ collect your hair until it amounts to the size of a small mandarin
step 02 ~ wash hair with gentle soap
step 03 ~ while wet, shape the hair into a flat pancake, use scissors as needed
step 04 ~ with a needle and thread, weave around the outer circumference of the hair
step 05 ~ pull thread create a small divot at the center
step 06 ~ let dry
step 07 ~ lay your egg(s)

additional info

hair, sewing thread, scissors
captured → Magda Gourinchas

bienvenue

EN: Welcome
2022

about

more info to come...

additional info

wood handbuilt frame, mixed fiber yarn, cut-pile machine tufted exterior, felting glue

une maison à moi

EN: A Home of My Own
2019

about

During my first semester at Carnegie Mellon, homesickness hit me harder than I’d anticipated, so I set out to build a compact object that could serve as both a reminder of home and a stress reliever.
I cut, sewed, and glued thin plastic film into the familiar outline of a three-dimensional house —— four walls and a slanted roof —— then fitted it with an Arduino, flexible tubing, and tiny air valves. When powered on, it inhales and exhales in slow, steady rhythms.
Holding it feels therapeutic: the sides give way gently under your fingers and then refill with air, as if the house itself is taking a calming breath. The piece questions my need for attachment to a physical location and, instead, places symbolism and meaning in the meditative act of remembering the places I call home.
Although I eventually grew out of my homesickness, I know this little device will make its way back into my life once I leave this now-familiar Pittsburgh.

additional info

plastic film, sewing thread, latex glue
hardware → arduino (C++), valves, air compressor
captured → Magda Gourinchas

contact

If you are interested in featuring or installing any of these works, or simply have questions, please reach out to me directly → magda@magdagourinchas.com