¿Juvenil o derivada? Not a pertinent question, says Marysol Nieves. And she should know.
Stills from a two-channel projection of digital video, by caraballo-farman.
Left, “Señor Cambio (Sir Change Money),” 2003, and, right, “Gaseosa Fría,” 2003.
Images courtesy of the Museo de Arte de Puerto Rico.
I love a good asinine letter-to-the-editor. The thought of getting one or two was right up there in the top ten reasons for starting Rotund World. Alas, Marysol Nieves, the just-departed curator of contemporary art at the Mueso de Arte de Puerto Rico (MAPR), took enormously tactful, though firm, exception to my review of her last show at the museum, “The (S) Files,” a collaboration between MAPR and New York City’s El Museo del Barrio. (She told me she’ll be returning to San Juan from time to time to fulfill commitments for a number of project room shows at MAPR.)
Personally, I don’t think Marysol and I disagree much about the substance of what I wrote here. But read on. You might decide otherwise. As a bonus, you’ll probably get a much clearer understanding of what the hell the exhibition was all about since we at Rotund World, so given to sarcasm, potty humor, and an obnoxious degree of self-referentiality, rarely concern ourselves with journalistic niceties, which we consider outmoded nuisances.
Marysol writes: I read your review of “The (S) Files,” and although I don’t disagree necessarily with your assessment, I do think that it is a bit unfair to describe an exhibition of this nature as “juvenil” and “derivada.” By its very nature, “The (S) Files Biennial” series is intended to be fairly inclusive, rather than a tight curatorial selection. While this is not a curatorial model that reflects my usual modus operandi, I do believe wholeheartedly that there is a place for this type of exhibition—that is, an exhibition that casts a wide net, is intentionally unwieldy and uneven, with the occasional pleasant and not so pleasant surprises. In other words I think its the nature of the beast. Isn’t this why we all love to hate the Whitney Biennial?
Let us not forget that this is also a biennial of largely emerging artists, many of whom are just out of BFA or MFA programs (such as our friend Quintín). The derivative nature of their work denotes the fact that many of these artists are still heavily influenced by their art school experience and still developing their own language and honing their practice.
I think it’s also important to place this biennial in its proper context. This biennial is a product of the mission and vision of El Museo del Barrio, that by its very definition is an institution rooted in notions of inclusivity—culturally and aesthetically.
Finally, there is the PR context which is probably why your review concerned me the most. While many of the works in the exhibition may seem derivative to a more sophisticated art audience, the public’s understanding and appreciation of contemporary art in PR is still quite limited. I think it’s extremely important for conservative and insular institutions like MAPR to embrace exhibitions like these because for better or for worse by appearing at this venue it validates contemporary art for an audience that is often confounded and frustrated by this type of work. MAPR’s own interest or commitment to contemporary art is lukewarm; thus one needs to be careful when dismissing an exhibition like “The (S) Files” as juvenile and derivative as this could be used as powerful ammunition to close a door that has only barely started to open.
If Rotund World was as rude as people say, I would pause a beat and exclaim, “Well, we’ve heard from the Peanut Gallery.” But I’m thankful for Marysol’s response on a couple of counts. First, my only partially thoughtful and certainly meandering reflection on “The (S) Files” got a civil, considered response, probably more than it deserved. Second, I can flog my upcoming interview with Marysol, which will appear, sooner or later, in this very corner of cyberspace, as well as in the magazine they call Art Nexus. Don’t miss it, acá o allá.
I’m ever harping on that south coast slough of despond, the once stately shabbiness known as Ponce. And not without reason, friend. To wit:
But fair is fair, and I have to admit that some of the most fun I’ve had lately has been en route to, or ensconced in the scraggly belly of, or reading the odd news item about our favorite scene of squalor.
At left: Jonathan Berrios, self-described “Handyman Cultural,” going all-out during the Frade tour.
You can access Rotund World features and the archives here. To find out how to participate in this swell, very avant, very too-too enterprise, click here. For Rotund Episode #1, Part I, an island soliloquy, click here. Part II features a tribute to the outstanding Ponceño torrefacción, Café Mayor, and our first roundup of Island art exhibitions, including an ill-conceived look at Pedro Vélez’ ill-conceived show, “Godfuck.” Cliquea aquí. Rotund Episode #2 reconsiders Pedro, visits an art show curiosity, and gets a haircut, here. In Episode #3 ÁREA and “The (S) Files” get the Rotund treatment. Here is Booty Bundt, and this takes you back to our newest episode.
The fresh talk about art is pretty meager in this episode of Tiny Type. In fact, it isn’t very fresh. We managed to hit just one opening this month, owing to a lot of visitas familiares y amigables, con mucha gente en la casa, so art took a back seat to road trips, overeating, bickering and needling, and, yes, shopping at the mall.
Our night out, we hate to tell you this because we know you’ll think we’re on the payroll, was a quick in-and-out at Galería Comercial for the opening of “(Cana) Rico?” which is Comercial’s sort of payback to the New York gallery Canada for an exhibition of borinquen stalwarts there in March.
And were we pleasantly surprised? Tito’s place was transformed. Comprehensible art works abounded. Big, comely slabs of color bedecked the walls. There were recognizably sculptural objects about the floor and videos you wanted to watch. We were hoping to catch some dissolute opening-night faces but it was early when we arrived, and most gallery denizens still looked fresh as daisies. At left below is videoaste Luke Murphy with a gallery drop-in, rumored to be an art world big-wig.
Even at that hour, the place was lousy with usual suspects. San Juan bad boy Pedro Vélez paused to consider whether or not to assault an irksome news hound before moving on.
It was a pleasure to formally meet writer Manuel Álvarez Lezama, below right, who introduced his friend, Pedro Ivan Ortiz. Pedro Vélez whispered to us that although Manuel is a writer, “he’s a poet,” to which we replied, “Gesundheit!”
“(Cana) Rico?” goes until 17 mayo at Galería Comercial, Avenida Fernández Juncos #1412. Phone 787-724-0655. The show is definitely worth a gander, but there is nothing quite like an opening-night crowd. More of that when Tiny Type continues.