Their journey from Venice's drowning canals to Rotterdam's engineered waterways was a patchwork affair, unfolding across the existing lifeblood of European maritime trade. A hulking container ship, a weathered coastal ferry, and finally, Fernando’s private sailboat—these vessels became a temporary, moving studio. This was the Collective’s methodology in action: a de facto residency in constant motion, where learning was forged in real-time from the ocean and its people. Fermín’s own artistic response began with a simpler, yet no less profound, ritual. In Venice, he lowered a blue bucket on a red string into the city's murky canals, a visual leitmotif in his practice. The water he collected was frozen into precise, geometric fragments that would later travel with him, stowed in ship freezers as they moved north. This, he explained, was his "micro-political gesture"—a small action that, like the captain's net, represented a deliberate form of dialogue with the water. While Fernando’s net spoke of immediate physical defense, Fermín’s slowly melting ice contemplated the slower, more pervasive movements of water itself, its journey tracing an invisible line between two cities facing profoundly different relationships with the sea.