Fagundes Machado's family sanctuary

Hey, I see you found my secret place. 
Here, I can preserve and remember all of my family members, their multiple stories and tales, 
and keep them alive and protected from the outside world. 

In my Brazil of the future, poor and dissident people can be purchased on the market as some sort of NFTs.

Here, let's called it NFPs, Non-Fungible Person. 

My family's history is somehow intertwined with the inability to be in the future. 
Both my grandparents on the part of my father and mother came from the countryside, 
barely knew how to read and write, and used their work as a driving force to survive the future to come. 
Doing the exercise of imagining myself and imagining them in a futuristic scenario is a mental challenge. 

It seems that the future as a place does not belong to us. It wasn't imagined for us.

What future would this be where we could get there? What would we have to do? 
What sacrifices would we have to undergo?

As an artist, in this so-called future, 
I was able to preserve the existence of my family, transforming them into these tokens, 
recreating 3D models of their busts. 

Unfortunately, in order to make a living, I have to sell  digital copies of my own body. 
But, in privacy,  here, I maintain this gallery and  sanctuary where copies of myself 
and my family can exist and be preserved without being purchased and reproduced. 

Hey, I see you found my secret place. Here, I can preserve and remember all of my family members, their multiple stories and tales, and keep them alive and protected from the outside world. In my Brazil of the future, poor and dissident people can be purchased on the market as some sort of NFTs. Here, let's called it NFPs, Non-Fungible Person. My family's history is somehow intertwined with the inability to be in the future. Both my grandparents on the part of my father and mother came from the countryside, barely knew how to read and write, and used their work as a driving force to survive the future to come. Doing the exercise of imagining myself and imagining them in a futuristic scenario is a mental challenge. It seems that the future as a place does not belong to us. It wasn't imagined for us. What future would this be where we could get there? What would we have to do? What sacrifices would we have to undergo? As an artist, in this so-called future, I was able to preserve the existence of my family, transforming them into these tokens, recreating 3D models of their busts. Unfortunately, in order to make a living, I have to sell digital copies of my own body. But, in privacy, here, I maintain this gallery and sanctuary where copies of myself and my family can exist and be preserved without being purchased and reproduced.

A plant that is put in entrances of households, for spiritual protection. 

As a young man, working in the wheat mill, he lost his finger in an work related accident. He was never compensated in any way for it, or had any labor rights recognized through this event. My grandfather carries this wound since then, and will keep carrying it for the rest of his life.

Even with she passing away in 2007, we still use her beloved pan to cook all the sorts of delicious meals. And still works pretty fine.

The weight of conceiving my trajectory as an artist, designer, and all my personal history, and how inconceivable it is to separate this trajectory from that of my family members.

Used to work in a wheat mill back in the 20th century. He is the last of his siblings alive. My family always said that I resemble him more than my own father.