In mapping constellations across the night sky, the ancients created a skyward citation practice. When seeking reminders, consultation, or solace, the stories that sustained their lives were ever-present, at most a few&nbsp;hours away from visibility and ready to be referenced. As the Earth spun and the constellations shifted, astrologers developed a tracking system centered on the body, aligning the night sky with those born under it. Constellations, then, are both moving images assembled by the elements, and meeting places—for stars, for stories, for myriad relations on earth and above it; they are spaces that form, guide, remind, and orient. In her poem “<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/159943/the-new-speakers" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank" style="background-color: transparent; color: rgb(17, 85, 204);">New Speakers</a>,” Gloria Anzaldua proclaims We don’t want to be / Stars but parts / of constellations. Living now in a time of heightened disparity and manifold global atrocities being committed across political factions, Gloria’s proclamation resists the oppressive systems that thrive on individualism, isolation, division, and scarcity. Her discursive resistance gives renewed potential to the idea of constellation. Inspired by her words, how might we envision cinema as a commons—a place for togetherness? What possibilities arise when experimental media are presented not just as moments of witnessing, but as invitations to engage through solidarity across movements? Can we approach moving images not merely as an escape, but as constellatory catalysts illuminating possibilities for collective liberation, both on and off the screen, on the earth and above it?

Not only stars, but parts of constellations