Only Ghosts Move Forward explores memory, time, and spectral presence in art, marking both the ten-year anniversary of Suprainfinit Gallery and a symbolic threshold in its trajectory. Inspired by hauntology (J. Derrida), a concept that evokes the persistence of the past in the present through cultural “ghosts,” the exhibition challenges conventional boundaries between life and death, body and spirit, presence and absence. The featured works reactivate memory as a fluid essence, continually reinterpreted: much like an art gallery that, over time, becomes a witness to its own history. The exhibition is inseparable from the current socio-political and cultural landscape, shaped by nationalist tendencies and precarisation of the arts sector and beyond, emphasizing the persistent link between hauntology and instruments of choreography of the visible. Through a diversity of artistic media, the curatorial approach creates a space of encounter where temporality becomes permeable and hauntological reflections envision blooming futures.

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If the exhibition opens by insisting on memory as a spectral engine, the works gathered here unfold a vocabulary of organs, fragments, and gestures that articulate this haunting in material form. Paulo Wirz casts the eye as both relic and prosthesis, bronze turning the act of looking into an object severed from its bearer, while Nana Wolke disperses the gaze until it hovers outside the body, painting and installation staging an unbodied voice that cannot be pinned down. Indriķis Gelzis offers camouflage as a temporal trick, teeth doubling as reflective surfaces through which presence becomes a delayed echo, just as Irina Gheorghe develops small-format works where human figures meet nature in scenes of gardens and parks, shifting between wild and domesticated, conjuring a hypothetical future of ecological catastrophe rather than a harmonious bond with the natural world, decomposing perception into sedimentary layers. Peleș Duo collages hands and colors into impalpable touch, while Man Yau and Andreea Anghel expand the hand’s agency across utensils and microphones, daily objects that register the body by absence as much as by imprint.

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‍Hortensia Mi Kafchin’s spectral tales stage the missing sex of the ghost, populated by robots and witches, a reminder of how gender persists even when flesh dissolves, while Larisa Sitar anchors memory in concrete limbs, balancing on the edges of history. Hadassah Emmerich’s oil paintings, with their controlled and mesmerizing shapes, render fragmented anatomies as a multiplying presence that feels both sheltered and at risk. Apparatus 22 punctuates the room with neon fictions and textual erasures that expose the violence of world-making, whereas Christian Jankowski conjures the body swallowed whole, crocodilian and comic, undoing the art world’s pretense of safety. Luca Florian pursues Georges Bataille’s acéphalic horror in reverse, terror vibrating bomb-like as dismembered sound, referencing both war and a distant past of art’s history, while Rebekka Ana Aime lets abstraction fall into commemoration, tender pieces of what can no longer be held. Wirz turns again with a neck exposed, Klara Zetterholm suspends the missing gaze in transit, Kristin Wenzel lends a tongue to the orchid’s strange speech, John Arnold salts the wound of matter, and Giuliano Nardin’s mermaid surfaces with absent legs, drifting between oceanic promise and terrestrial loss. The exhibition gathers these gestures without closure. Ghosts insist that art is a threshold where bodies scatter and futures hesitate. Yet unfinished presences press on, holding open what is not yet gone.