Selecting a metaphor of dislocations and
missed connections, Jump Cuts — which refers to a
film technique of rapid movement from one scene to
another without narrative logic — is a convenient title
for an assembly of diverse works created by Venezuelan
artists who don’t necessarily share common territory.
Jump Cuts is, however, a compilation of first-rate
works in the collection of Venezuela’s largest bank,
Mercantil. Four categories were crafted by the curators
as a guide to understanding this sprawling art
production: 1) The Modern Vernacular: Idealization of
Modernity, 2) From the Object to the Mode of
Representation: Synchronization of Local and
International Modern Development, 3) Art Thought:
Leveling Social Development and Artistic Development,
and 4) Necrophilia: Ideals of Social Transformation.
It’s kind of awe-inspiring, from the vantage point of
the individual artist, to think that his or her
tinkering in the studio might one day be rationalized
with such grandiose language, more suited to an economic
study commissioned by the World Bank. The text panels
explaining the political and economic relevance of the
individual works don’t add much to the appreciation of
them. They are just trying too hard, and are
distracting. It is possible to enjoy the works in
Jump Cuts on their own merits, forgetting their
contributions (or not) to Venezuela’s rise to
modernization.
Video
plays a big role in contemporary art, and Venezuela is
no exception. Sandra Vivas’ short works, which up-end
feminine stereotypes with solo performances, manage to
avoid monotonous narcissism and feminist finger-wagging
with humor in works like “Eu sou uma puta culta” (“I am
an intellectual whore”). In his video “El leon de
Caracas,” Javier Tellez stages a mock processional in
which helmeted, armed policemen convey a stuffed lion
through the ghettos of the capital city, conflating the
sanctimony of religion with the brute power of the
state. “Cinema Atlantis” by Alexander Gerdel passes a
roving eye over a squalid building that formerly housed
a cinema run by his family. The tangle of laundry lines,
television antennae, bicycle wheels, makeshift cooking
apparatus, undershirted children and torn curtains
showcase the fraying infrastructure of shantytown
existence on the outskirts of Caracas. Magdalena
Fernandez unsettles the sublimity of the geometric grid
via fluid motion in her video “1dmSL003.”
Aziz +
Cucher, known for digitally manipulated photography,
show images of ambiguous, futuristic, electronic
accessories that vaguely resemble items one might
purchase at Walgreens for personal hygiene, but they
appear embalmed, inutile or even obsolete, as the title
suggests: “Discontinued … Now!” They are juxtaposed with
Emilia Azcarate’s intimate sculptures made by hand of
organic materials, which suggest petrified droppings or
food, and primitive tools. In his digital images,
Alexander Apostol renders stylish modernist buildings in
Caracas mute and inert, converting them to useless
monuments by sealing off all points of access through
windows and doors. This embalming of modern architecture
evokes associations of stalled progress, death and
suffocation.
Painters are represented as well, and many buttress the
visual elements of their works with subtexts, some more
extraneous than others. Carla Arocha’s “Nausea” is a
juicier op-art painting than those of American artist
Bridget Riley. Arocha based her work on the 1995 episode
of gas deployed in the Japanese subway system, which
rendered victims night-blind and nauseated. Arturo
Herrera’s fantastic graphite drawing “The Night Before
Last 6R” is based on collages made from cartoon coloring
books. On the formal level, this drawing enlarges
outlines, so they become solids, not only contours
containing other shapes. These outlines seep into one
another, like blood hemorrhaging beyond capillaries and
veins, drenching organs and spilling out of the skin
itself. A fist protrudes out of the network of lines in
protest or aggression, and this abstraction becomes
alive with sexual energy. Meyer Vaisman’s “Ciao” is a
burlesque of decorative art, which contrasts a wildly
patterned surface with spiritually empty expression.
Overall, CIFO succeeds yet again in upholding its
mission to present cliché-defying exhibitions, and to
fill the enormous gaps in the knowledge base of North
Americans and Europeans concerning actual Latin American
art production, past and present.
Jump
Cuts is on view through July 15, from 10 a.m. to 4
p.m. Thursday through Sunday, at CIFO, 1018 N. Miami
Ave., Miami; 305-455-3380; www.cifo.org.
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A more
compact group exhibition is No Need to Touch, on
view at ArtCenter/South Florida through June 24.
Organized by Renee Cagnina, this show benefits from a
sufficiently flexible curatorial conception that focuses
on the properties of fiber. Cagnina appeared open to
suggestion from enough artists hailing from different
parts of the galaxy to keep it interesting. With “Carpet
Study #1,” Kerry Phillips provides a concentrated
wallop, layering pieces of carpet to fashion a mound
that appears to have erupted from the gallery floor.
Jillian Mayer’s artfully homely collages capitalize on
sentimentality, and Natasha Duwin’s embroidered
abstractions have a sort of lazy formalism. Both young
artists have sufficient space and time ahead of them to
produce more vibrant work. The high point of the
exhibition is incontestably “Nine,” by artist team
Guerra de la Paz. Semi-hidden under a giant Afro/nuclear
mushroom cloud of exuberantly patterned items of
clothing are the legs of nine mannequins, each sporting
distinctive ’70s-era
footwear — to marvelous effect. The tableaux created by
these two artists are always inventive. The structural
ingenuity of their works, which exhaust the possibility
of discarded clothing as a sculptural medium, is matched
by their work’s tremendous capacity for outrageous
storytelling. Cagnina, the new director of exhibitions
and artist services at ArtCenter, is to be congratulated
on a sensitive arrangement of work from just-graduated
MFA students with mature artists on more solid footing.
No Need to Touch is on view through Sunday, June 24
at Art Center/South Florida, 924 Lincoln Road, Miami
Beach; 305-674-8278; www.artcentersf.org.
Michelle Weinberg is an artist and writer based in Miami
Beach and New York. Find her online at
www.michelleweinberg.com.