At the southern edge of Texas lies Boca Chica. Once a quiet village surrounded by protected wetlands, endangered birds and sea turtles, it is now dominated by the enormous rockets of SpaceX. Beaches are closed, homes have been bought and the rhythms of daily life are increasingly dictated by launches, security patrols and the dream of colonising Mars.
Space enthusiasts gather to witness the promise of another world, vendors sell souvenirs and cameras turn towards the sky. Nearby, environmentalists document the damage, while across the river Mexican families fish beneath the gaze of the border patrol.
Photographed in luminous black and white, Shifting Baselines strips the new Space Race of its polished technological spectacle. Monumental rockets, empty roads, fences, birds and human figures appear within carefully composed images that recall both post-apocalyptic science fiction and melancholic comedy. The soundscape moves between waves, wildlife, machinery and the overwhelming force of a launch, allowing the transformation of the landscape to be heard as well as seen.
The title describes how each generation accepts a diminished natural world as normal because it no longer remembers what existed before. As beaches close, wildlife disappears and satellites redraw the night sky, the film asks what forms of destruction can be made to look like progress, and why the dream of escaping Earth has become easier to imagine than caring for it.
