#artwork is pamela's aura

[yejinsone]

"thank you for coming. i know, this doesn't like make much sense to you but, i really wanted to show you." she took benny by the hand and led him through the showroom to the backroom, "it came in yesterday and i love it but, maybe that's why i'm so worried? maybe, i love it too much. either way, i just had to show it to you," she let go of his hand to remove the cover they had laying over the piece. she reveals a richard mayhew's piece, "i was lucky i was able to get a hold of it, his older pieces are easy to get but i really wanted something new. the colors are just so vibrant and it evokes a lot more emotion. he's gotten so much better over time, and i really wanted to make space for it here." she steps back, next to benny. "again, i know it doesn't mean much to you, but i trust you and your impartial opinion." @rainforum muse: benny

[richincolor]

#NotYourPrincess: Voices of Native American Women edited by Lisa Charleyboy and MaryBeth Leatherdale is an incredible collection we highly recommend and we're excited to be discussing it here today.

Summary: Whether looking back to a troubled past or welcoming a hopeful future, the powerful voices of Indigenous girls and women across North America resound in this book. In the same visual style as the bestselling Dreaming in Indian, #NotYourPrincess presents an eclectic collection of poems, essays, interviews, and art that combine to express the experience of being a Native woman. Stories of abuse, intergenerational trauma, and stereotyping are countered by the voices of passionate women demanding change and realizing their dreams. Sometimes outraged, often reflective, but always strong, the women in this book will give teen readers insight into the lives of women who, for so long, have had their history hidden and whose modern lives have been virtually invisible.

Crystal's Review

Debbie Reese’s Review

Crystal: #NotYourPrincess is visually stunning. I love the attention to detail throughout the book like the use of borders and the pairings of text and artwork. The essay "The Invisible Indians" by Shelby Lisk (Mohawk) was accompanied by photos that illustrated how the stereotypes people have in their head render the actual people in front of them invisible. It made the text so powerful to have both parts. Do you all have any favorite visual pieces?

Audrey: I agree--this collection did a wonderful job of pairing beautiful artwork with powerful words. When I read, I typically don’t find myself backtracking, but I did more than once with #NotYourPrincess so I could go back and forth between the text and the art it had been paired with. My absolute favorite set is the poem “When I Have a Daughter” by Ntawnis Piapot (Piapot Cree Nation) with the piece Memories by Aura Last (Oneida).

Jessica: It’s so hard to choose a favorite -- they were all incredible in their own way. Two stood out to me in particular. The first was A Conversation with a Massage Therapist by Francine Cunningham -- I saw the picture first and didn’t realize the context until I read the conversation beneath it that portrayed a massage therapist casually throwing around harmful stereotypes during a massage session. The second one was Real NDNZ Re-Take Hollywood by Pamela J. Peters, which recreated classic Hollywood portraits with Native American actors. Both demonstrated how harmful stereotypes were in the different ways they manifested themselves, whether through media and Hollywood, or through everyday conversations.

K. Imani: This collection, the mix of artwork with the amazing poetry, was absolutely beautiful. For me, I can’t choose between the two poems of “The Things We Taught Our Daughters” and “Honor Song”. I found both to be extremely moving as both talked about reclamation of the feminine and and the power that women have inside of them.

Crystal: In “Reclaiming Indigenous Women’s Rights” Nahanni Fontaine (Anishinaabe) writes, “Patriarchy is quite simply the systematic oppression and regulation of women’s bodies, minds, and spirits. Patriarchy sets the markers and outlines the box of what we can and cannot do; say or cannot say; think or cannot think; express or cannot express; live or cannot live.” Fontaine has clearly delineated patriarchy and the colonial legacy. Her essay along with many other pieces here not only explains how we got to where we are, but also marks out oa path for the future. I think this is such a powerful text and I’m excited that young women, and specifically young indigenous women, could have this book available to them.

Audrey: I think that path for the future is one of the most important themes in #NotYourPrincess. The women in these pages are resilient, and several times they address past (and current) violence, pain, and other trials. Yet the collection always circles back to the triumph of survival and hope for the future. Fontaine’s essay really cuts to the heart of #NotYourPrincess. So does the opening text of the book, from Leanne Simpson (Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg): “I am always trying to escape—from dangerous situations, from racist stereotypes, from environmental destruction in my territory, and from the assault on my freedom as an individual and as part of the Nishnaabeg nation. As an Indigenous person, I have to escape in order to survive, but I don’t just escape. I hold this beautiful, rich Indigenous decolonial space inside and around me. I am escaping into Indigenous freedom. I am escaping into Indigenous land and my Indigenous body.”

Jessica: I loved how everything was connected together in the book. Patriarchy and colonialism and oppression were all tied together, and then a goal was laid out of not just escape, but escape to a space of freedom and equality. And all this is possible through the strength of generations of women. I’m glad I read #NotYourPrincess all in one go, since it allowed me to see all these themes and works of art flowing together.

K. Imani: The theme of fighting the Patriarchy and colonialism throughout the book made me want to stand up and clap for all of these artists. These are women recognizing their power and owning it. Jessica Deer’s essay, “We Are Not A Costume” was so poignant specifically when she simply states “While someone may think they look supercute as an “Indian Princess” or as “Reservation Royalty” for a fun and harmless evening, they have the privilege of removing that costume at the end of the night. Indigenous women and girls do not. We have to deal with ongoing marginalization and the lingering effects of colonization, like a culture that normalizes violence against us.” I can imagine many young girls reading this passage, find their voice, and speak out against in justice towards marginalized peoples.

Crystal: This book shares so many examples of female role models. There are mothers, grandmothers, aunts, cousins and more. I couldn’t help but start to think about the women in my life who taught me what it meant to move through the world as a woman. The book invites such wonderings and offers some awesome role models. I’m eager to see the responses from young indigenous women reading this. I think it could be extremely encouraging.

Audrey: I agree! “What’s There to Take Back?” by Tiffany Midge (Hunkpapa Lakota) was all about her role models of Indigenous womanhood--real role models, not terrible stereotypes like Tiger Lily. Many of the pieces in #NotYourPrincess are about connection with past and future generations and learning from others. I also really enjoyed the piece “Living Their Dreams” with the photo spread of athletes Shoni Schimmel (Umatilla), September Big Crow (Tsuu T’ina Nation), Ashton Locklear (Lumbee), and Brigitte Lacquette (Ojibwe). It’s not often that I see professional athletes held up as role models for young women, so I loved seeing all of them in powerful, confident poses, representing four different sports, and talking about their experiences.

K. Imani: I agree with both of you. “What’s There to Take Back?” was another one of my favorites as well because the examples that Midge gave for true role models were all kick-butt women. I can see so many young girls being inspired by learning about Indigenous women who are out there fighting the good fight and are being awesome. I especially enjoyed the passage titled “Good Medicine” which was an interview with Janet Smylie. I found her story to be inspiring and a wonderful message for young girls who are struggling to know that they can overcome their challenges and achieve.

Crystal: In “Dear Past Self,” Isabella Fillspipe (Oglala Lakota) wrote, “If you have something to say Say it. Life is too short to sit in silence. And stop trying to please other people.” I really wish teen me had heard such things enough times to believe them. This is a message many young women could benefit from.

Audrey: There are so many wonderful lines in #NotYourPrincess, and I hope that this book makes its way into the hands of many girls and women, especially Indigenous girls and women.

Jessica: Yeah, the focus on different generations -- past, present, and future -- Indigenous women was incredible.

Audrey: One of the quotes that stayed with me after I finished was by Tanaya Winder (Duckwater Shosone): “As Indigenous women writers and artists we are continually trying to exist, live, and love in a world that doesn't always show its love for us. This means, part of the artist's call is to turn past traumas on their heads, upside down, inside out, lift it up then put it back down as something changed and transformed so that others can find something beautiful or hopeful in it. For that beauty and hope to exist we as Native American women must dive headfirst into the muck, ugliness, stark darkness of that wreckage. This is what we do--we recast wounds in unending light. And so, light, love, and courage are circles we keep coming back to.” It’s a powerful message, and  I find that a lot of creators from other marginalized groups have embraced similar philosophies when writing about their own communities.

[nofomoartworld]

Art F City: SLIDESHOW: Mexico City Galleries, Part 3

The diversity and sheer volume of art on view in Mexico City at any given point in time never ceases to amaze me. This week, I had an uncommonly un-cerebral experience of conceptual art critic Robert C. Morgan’s retrospective at Proyectos Monclova. At the opposite end of the aesthetic spectrum, I went down the rabbit hole of curator Iñaki Herranz’s pleasantly chaotic survey of young Mexican artists, El placer de la incertidumbre, at Casa de Cultura San Rafael. And at Museo Experimental el Eco, got to check out Folke Köbberling & Arturo Hernández having a demolition derby in the name of international relations and clean air.

Of course, I snapped plenty of pictures of all of the above.

Robert C. Morgan: Concept and Painting

Proyectos Monclova Colima 55, Col. Roma Norte, Mexico D.F. On view until April 29th

Robert C. Morgan has been an art critic, conceptual art theorist, and teacher for five decades. He’s somehow managed to keep up a studio practice—a feat at which I marvel. This exhibition includes documentation from his early experiments with Gutai-like performances, abstract paintings, and photo collages. Curiously (for a retrospective, his first in Latin America) it doesn’t include much in the way of wall text, so viewers are left a bit in the dark as to context or even dates. But that reveals something else: nearly all of Morgan’s work looks like it could’ve been made in 1970 or 2017. That realization is somehow rewarding and reassuring in and of itself.

There’s an unusual sense of luxuriousness to Morgan’s minimalist abstractions, which oddly make them feel less like “decor” (a common criticism of abstract painting) yet more like textile or ceramic motifs. I’m having a hard time resolving that contradiction in terms internally/logically. But the “presence” of certain paintings feel more like kimono fabric or flags for an esoteric ceremony than the brand of hard-edged painting one might encounter in a hotel lobby. That’s an association that might be based on the inclusion of Morgan’s ritualistic performance documentation or regal color palette. Whatever the reason, it’s a must-see-in-person kind of show, largely because that aura isn’t done justice by photography nor language.

Alcázar: Crushed Autogeddon

Museo Experimental el Eco Calle Sullivan 43 Col. San Rafael, México DF On view until 28th of May

Mexico and Germany are in the midst of a year-long cultural exchange known as the Año dual Alemania – México. Through this program, artists Folke Köbberling & Arturo Hernández Alcázar were united for a collaboration. They decided to comment on the (in)famous auto industries of both Mexico and Germany, in particular Volkswagen’s emissions-test-cheating scandal and the problem of air pollution in the Mexican capital. The two decided to strip old cars down for parts, recycling the usable components into bicycles (which were distributed in the park across from the museum) and the unusable components into an installation.

It’s a great idea, but a lot more could’ve been done with the “useless” remnants. As it stands, the installation is evocative of (but less interesting than) the junk markets of Iztapalapa. I’m more curious about those bicycles, which I’m assuming are out being used rather than put on a pedestal. The video documentation of the pair furiously dismantling cars alternates between monotonous and vicariously cathartic—what city dweller hasn’t dreamt of taking a sledgehammer to the hood of a particularly loud or smelly car?

The installation is at its best in the courtyard, which Alcázar transformed into a functional metal-smelting forge. There, the aluminum skeletons of cars were melted down and poured into a blindingly-reflective floor sculpture that looks a bit like a Jackson Pollock painting. It’s really what makes a visit to the museum worth it—but I don’t recommend staring directly into it at noon.

El placer de la incertidumbre

A burning truck-shack from Vlocke. Also pictured: a super creepy banner of someone in a latex Donald Trump mask beckoning visitors inside.

Curated by Iñaki Herranz Casa de Cultura San Rafael. Calle José Rosas Moreno 110. Colonia San Rafael, Delegación Cuauhtémoc, D.F. Artists: Emerson Balderas, Julia Carrillo Escalera, Andrea Garza Romero, Abraham González, Antonio Gritón, Henri & Nazka, Iñaki Herranz, Julia, Isauro Huizar, Carolina Magis, Tláhuac Mata, Enrique Minjares Padilla, Josué Morales, Francisco Muñoz, Miguel Ángel, Patricio Jose, Fernando Pizarro, Miguel Ángel Salazar, Marcia Santos, Ricardo Sierra, Taller El Ajolote/Noé Vázquez, Roberto Tostado, Javier Velázquez Cabrero, Allan Villavicencio, Vlocke Luther Blizer, Pamela Zeferino y Ediciones Gato Negro (León Muñoz SAntini, Juan López & Andrea García Flores). Invitado especial: el niño Pablo.

The majority of artwork I’ve seen in Mexico City has been in the context of immaculate modernist spaces that put most blue chip galleries’ Chelsea digs to shame. Walking into Casa de Cultura San Rafael, however, feels refreshingly like entering a ramshackle squat in the best way possible. In reality, it’s the neighborhood cultural center, and the exhibitions programing (comprising dozens of artists) overlaps with the center’s workshops, studio programs, and events. Even the small library has been reshuffled to arrange the books in a color gradient rather than by subject or author.

That vibe is reinforced by the anarchic curatorial style—the exhibition’s conceit is one of uncertainty and the nervous excitement that accompanies the creation and display of artwork. The atrium is dominated by what looks like years’ worth of graffiti (a piece by Jocelyn Nieto) and in at least one gallery Pamela Zeferino has peeled away chunks of the white ceiling paint to reveal a former layer—sky blue, which gives the impression of a disintegrating roof. Works are hung in odd locations (over doorways, nestled among potted plants, in windows separating artist studios from public spaces) and even overtly political pieces have a playful sensibility.

I’m thinking especially of Marcia Santos’s t-shirts, which are screen printed with common questions and answers exchanged between US border agents and Mexican nationals during crossings (“Where are you coming from? My house, I live in Juárez. Where are you going? Shopping.” etc…) . There’s a sense of absurdist dark humor to the shirt, one that’s cemented to the even more absurd reality of the militarized border by her documentary photos, which depict the artist handing the shirts out to travelers near the checkpoint.

Marcia Santos

Marcia Santos

Antonio Gritón with Carolina Magis. “In Nawatl (the Valley of Mexico’s indigenous language) the ‘ñ’ doesn’t exist. It was used on them in the conquest”.

Ediciones Gato Negro

A Barbie-inspired take on Angélica Rivera, Mexico’s first lady, who was at the center of a scandal involving her husband’s abuse of power in regards to a multi-million dollar real estate scheme involving her suburban mansion. Watch out Melania. The display case includes her notorious “Casa Blanca” and evidence of how much media attention the dolls attracted.

detail of a wall-full of schematic drawings by Ricardo Sierra

Tlahuac Mata

Tlahuac Mata’s delicate oil painting of an improvised lean-to propped up against a concrete wall was unexpectedly moving. Its position near the ornate plaster ceiling—two contrasting visions of “a roof over your head”—was especially effective.

Disaster landscape paintings by Tlahuac Mata (L) and Patrício José (R).

Julia Carrillo Escalera. A mirrored sculpture that focuses on a single pane of the window, flanked by geometric abstractions on paper.

Work by an artist known solely as “Pablo”.

Painting and strange, plant-eating sculpture by Allan Villavicencio.

More recent Mexico City coverage:

We Went to Gabriel Orozco’s OXXO

SLIDESHOW: Mexico City Galleries, Part 1

SLIDESHOW: Mexico City Galleries, Part 2

Museum Punk Show in Need of A Sound Guy

Material Light on Substance, Heavy With Dick Pics

Slideshow: Zona MACO, The Art Fair Where Commerce and Politics Make Strange Bedfellows

We Went to Mexico: General Idea at Museo Jumex Restored Our Faith in Art For Fuck’s Sake

We Went to Mexico: Barbara Kruger and Juan Pablo de la Vega Take the Subway

The Timelessness of Sex, Violence, and Portraiture: Otto Dix at MUNAL

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[rainforum]

yejin mentioning her trust in him makes him smile.     even when i could do better when remembering some pieces’ names?     (he does,     however,     know the pieces that were her favorite ones:     from name,    to title,    to the inspiration behind it,     those were just as important as remembering his many scripts)     he wanted to ask,     but doesn’t since he’d rather listen to her musings than say or do anything.    “     ah,    interesting,    interesting…     guess pamela is a stellar woman,     then.    the colors are gorgeous.     congratulations.     ”     he compliments to no one in particular:     to the painter?    to pamela?    to the artwork for being pretty?     to yejin for securing yet another mesmerizing artwork for her gallery?     probably the latter…     or maybe a little bit of everything.     his eyes are drawn to the colors before he’s suddenly looking back at her,     then back at the artwork before them,     “     you know,     the colors kind of remind me of you,     ”     he tilts his head and squints an eye,     lips pursing into a playful purse as if he was an artist with an artistic point to share,     “     maybe add some more red and purple here and there,    but it’s still you.     is richard open for a commission?     i’m now curious.     ”      then,    an idea comes to him,     and he almost laughs at it but still seems eager to share it,     “     or should we try to be artistic and do it ourselves?     just one big canvas and some paint to do your aura—     i will be picking the colors though,     it will be from my perspective,     ”     and suddenly he pauses,     lips pursing as a hand moves to the back of his nape,     “     as long as we don’t commerciale it we won’t be getting in trouble for taking inspo from him,     right?     wouldn’t like us to catch a case just because i had a thought.     ”

sometimes showing her collection to others even if it was her whole job to, felt like she was showing too much of herself. insecure to be under a microscope and have to explain her reasonings for why certain pieces stood proudly on display at her gallery. she's been doing it for a while but with each piece she finds and feels drawn to, it still feels like a bandage she has to rip off before putting it out there. "ok, ok. sorry. i just get... kind of shy... i guess. each piece is special to me. but i'm biased and i worry about those that aren't. and i trust you, so much." yejin bites her lip, in attempt to down play how much it means for her to say that to him. she takes a deep breath and turns back to the piece, a smile growing on her lips as she feels confidence find her again, "this is pamela's aura by richard mayhew. this piece was actually a commissioned piece. there's this couple, quite famous in the art work for being collectors and alfred commissioned this for his wife pamela. he said he used the pinks and corals as an ode to her favorite colors. it's a bit simple in meaning but i think it says a lot about her and how he sees her and with pamela being a collector of richard's work it's a story that comes full circle. and it's so romantic." yejin almost sighs, she loves the story it tells. "to have your essence captured so vibrantly. it's beautiful. i just love the colors."