Opening windows

Even so, a film does not have the power to change things on its own; in my opinion, it is politics that makes the difference. But I do believe that one of the instruments that politics must employ to bring about change is that of culture. Because it is only through culture that people can thrive as equals. And there is no greater stimulant of abuse, inequality, corruption, racism or sexism than misinformation, the absence of guidelines, ignorance of our basic human rights and neglect of our past. In short, a culture vacuum. Films, as part of culture, can initiate the reflection that leads to change, because they have the power to stir, to move, they make us reflect, advance and open up. Due to the pressures of work, I have not been able to visit all the Cultural Centres to which I have been invited, to share workshops with local filmmakers and artists, to experience all the Agency’s activities at first hand. But on many occasions I have been able to attend shows or festivals supported by the AECID, in places like the Saharawi camps in Algeria, where the population would have been unable to see our cinema in any other way. In these camps, I have seen Saharawi women talking about the issues raised by Te doy mis ojos, and heard their ideas and proposals for eradicating violence against women. After more than thirty years accompanying these films and taking part in hundreds of talks, I am still impressed by the power of communication of cinema, how it transports our culture and our experiences, opening windows elsewhere so that others may not only see us, but breathe, be moved and become excited with us.

Icíar Bollaín, with the actor Luis Tosar, during the filming of También la lluvia in 2010.

And us with them. We recognise ourselves in what we have in common, and discover ourselves in where we differ. The AECID Centres, scattered across so many countries, open up thousands of windows every day that allow us to see each other, to get to know each other, to learn from one another, to appreciate what is important, the values that make us people, that extricate us from poverty, from violence and from abuse. I hope that the activities of the Agency will continue for many years to come, bringing and sharing culture, opening windows and driving change.

Director, actress and screenwriter. Winner of two Goya Awards for best direction and best screenplay for the film Te Doy Mis Ojos (2003), she was nominated in the same categories for the films Mataharis (2007) and También la lluvia (2010).

Cristina Andreu With older eyes

Poster for Cuchillo de palo, directed by the Paraguayan film Renate Costa I enjoy the sensation I sometimes get when I look closely around somewhere that is totally new, knowing that very soon it will become familiar and an important part of my life. I stop and wonder what I will see when that place becomes part of my life, rather than how I see it now, and try to keep this contrast in mind for the future. I remember perfectly the first time I entered the Juan de Salazar Cultural Centre of Spain in Asunción. Outside, the heat was asphyxiating and the humidity was extreme, due to the nearby River Paraguay. We went in and first I saw a space with pillows of many colours, and the doors leading to an auditorium. On looking through, although it was dark inside, it was obviously large. On a panel by the wall, I read the schedule of events for the Centre. Afterwards, we went though another door into a patio with a big tree in the middle, beautiful, sheltering. To the right, there were two rooms that looked like workshops. And at the back, a library, glassed in; the books were all in sight but it was a weekend and so the doors were closed. A bust of Don Quixote at the entrance. So many stories to be told, so many adventures to be lived, just through those transparent walls, making me forget about the heat. There was a staircase, too, rising somewhere. I returned to Madrid to finish the work that for the time being prevented me from remaining in that strange city, where the centre was empty at the weekend, and where life revolved around a shopping centre, named after Mariscal L ópez. But I knew I would soon be back in Asunción, with its majestic trees in full flower. When I did return, I went to meet the director of the Cultural Centre, Myriam Martínez Elcoro, in her office, at the top of the stairs I had seen on the first day. First, there was a large room where an intern, a secretary and a clerk were working, and at the back there was Myriam’s office, decorated in blue, with wooden floors. I started going to the Centre to enjoy its numerous activities, and where Myriam was to be found from early morning until late at night. There were painting workshops, courses on the art of the Golden Age, seminars on the curating of exhibitions, on theatre improvisation, on writing. One-minute videos, in which women used the visual medium to speak of their needs and feelings. I joined in when I could, many people took part and the courses filled up quickly. The teachers were mainly from Paraguay, but also from other countries in Latin America or from Spain. I remember the screening of a Paraguayan documentary, Cuchillo de palo (Wooden Knife), which became one of my favourites and which I show my students every time I give a workshop on documentary creation. Renate Costa, the director, her parents, long divorced but back together again, the entire LGTBIQ collective, with the transsexuals who had been persecuted and jailed during the dictatorship, Renate’s whole family, her neighbours from when