Montréal, jour 3

Montréal hurts. It hurts in the bottom of the feet and all through the legs. I can feel the fatigue in the tips of my toes and all through my calves. After seven or eight hours of exploring the downtown area on my pair of Converse, I can say with a certain degree of empirical confidence that "these shoes were NOT made for walking". Anyway, this is what I found:

After a somewhat disappointing visit to the contemporary art museum (they were in the process of putting on two expos, so most of it was closed), I dedicated the whole day to the Elektra Digital Arts Festival. Earlier that day, I picked up a copy of the Mirror in the subway and read about an "Igloo installation" so I decided to go find it. I didn't have an address or any idea of where it was, but somehow seemed logical to walk to the museum district. 

And so it happened...the unexplainable magical moment that changes your entire day: looking for a bathroom while walking down Rue St. Catherine, I literally bumped into the Belgo building, or the building that hosts the most important Artist Run Centres in Montréal, making it one of the largest visual arts centers in the country. 

It took me a mere second of looking at the old style directory (golden frame and white plastic letters on black velvet) at the lobby to understand what I was about to witness. The Belgo is home to more than 30 contemporary art galleries, plus countless studios and workspaces for creators. 

In other words, I walked into what felt like the Mecca of the Montréal art scene.  More importantly, I walked into the Belgo on the first Friday of the Montréal Biennale, and on the opening weekend of the Elektra festival! I couldn't have hoped for a better afternoon: the place was alive with visitors and openings and talks and artist and wine and cheese and everything that makes contemporary art the more enjoyable. (to see what's on, check out the Belgo Report)

I particularly enjoyed the "Squeeeeque!" installation by Alexis O'Hara at Skol, the installation/performance by Chaban Unit at Circa, and the photographs at Optica and Projex Mtl.

As the sun went down, my legs took me to the famous Usine C, an old factory turned into an impressive arts centre, for the opening night of the Elektra Festival. At exactly 11 pm, I was blown away by Mr. Arnaud Rebotini and his incredible Black Strobe. But this really requires a post by itself, so... à demain! 

Montréal, jour 2

Et alors. The people of Montréal seem to love their city. I woke up and went directly for a pain au chocolat at a little boulangerie next to the Jean-Talon market, and a couple of Montrealers started talking to me. I told them my reason for visiting the city and they instantly began to tell me about the wonders of Montréal, as if they understood that they needed to convince me to stay. When I asked the taboo question, "What about the winter?" they shrugged it off with a classic "Ohh lala, pas de problème". I had my doubts, but I loved the friendliness. 

I spent the rest of the day walking around downtown Montréal, exploring the length of the Museum Quarter along Rue Sherbrooke and Rue St. Catherine. At Rue Crescent I stopped a random guy my age to ask him about the area and he was fascinated to serve as a temporary tour guide. He launched on a 15 minute talk about the city and it's architecture, and the churches and the way it was laid out...and then wrote me a list of about 10 places I should visit. 

I passed by McGill and sat on the sunny grass in front of the library, where I started conversation with a girl that said "I can't imagine a better place for my undergrad experience than McGill...except for the winters!" She was really excited to tell me all about the student life at McGill and about the thousands of things to do in the city, but she was also adamant about the winters: "you'll HATE the winters, but it's worth it." 

And then I walked into the highlight of the day: the IMAGINE: The Ballad of John & Yoko expo at the Museum of Fine Arts. The museography is simply insuperable! It is an expo that breaks the boundaries between audience and artists and invites everyone to participate with the art. For instance, in order to commemorate the famous "Bed-in" for peace that Yoko and John staged in Montréal in 1969, the expo had a whole room recreating the scene, with an enormous white bed where visitors could sit or lie and stage their own "bed-in" while listening to the original recordings of Give Peace a Chance. There is also an incredible room with a white piano where one can sit and play Imagine while watching the original video of the song projected on a huge white wall. 

But the most impressive to me is the room dedicated to the War is Over! campaign. The room is full of TV's displaying original news videos and footage from the major peace demonstrations around the world in 1969, as well as tragic videos from Vietnam. There is also a timeline highlighting the main events of 1969, as well as the main advances in human rights of the 1960s, all surrounded by the posters of the publicity campaign and photographs of John and Yoko's demonstrations. Most importantly, this room didn't feel like a piece of old history; instead, it felt like an urgent call for political protests and mobilizations against today's equally irrational war in Iraq. I left the expo inspired, excited about the vast possibilities for art to stir the minds and hearts of sensible audiences everywhere. 

You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.  

Coachella Art

Monopoly!

This is the post where you learn about Mike Daisey.

As part of the Push Festival volunteer staff, I had the opportunity to see the monologue "Monopoly!". Any description I might give you of this show would be insufficient to correctly transmit the show's magic, its thought provoking message, and Mike's energy. I confess that before the show, I wasn't too thrilled about the idea of sitting through a 90 minute monologue...but it only took the performer a few seconds to turn my skepticism into awe.

Mike Daisey delivers his monologue with such strength that you literally put off blinking for the entire show. "Monopoly!" navigates perfectly through different true stories of corporate abuse, weaving bits of Daisey's personal life into a plot that suddenly becomes everyone's daily confrontation with rapacious private interests. From a strong commentary on big box store suburbia to an enlightening critique of the intellectual property system, "Monopoly!" serves as an urgent call against the abuses of unchecked corporate power.

I don't remember excatly when it happened, but somewhere between the stories of I suddenly felt a lump of coal in my throat. If you simply read the story of Nicola Tesla, or read how Parker Brothers bought the rights to Monopoly from its true inventor, you probably won't feel a thing. But after hearing Mike Daisey tell you the story and seeing how he develops the characters and turns their lives into passionate accounts of injustice, it is impossible not to feel a hole in your chest. And if you already have even a slightly negative opinion of Wal Mart, this show's poetic message might turn you into a full time activist.

Needless to say, if you have the chance, go see a show by Mike Daisey.

Here is the description of "Monopoly!" on the show's website:

In this devastating monologue about monopoly and its discontents, Mike Daisey explores the warped genius of inventor Nikola Tesla and his war with Thomas Edison over electricity—alternating current versus direct current—a battle that etched itself into the streets of New York City itself. This thread loops and whorls around Microsoft’s historic antitrust lawsuit, the secret history of the board game Monopoly, and ultimately the story of Daisey’s hometown and its one remaining retailer: Wal-Mart. As subversive as it is hilarious, Monopoly! illuminates the issues we confront under corporate rule, and explores the choices and struggles individuals face living in a system that recognizes only profit and loss.

Live From a Bush of Ghosts

Ahhhh the beauty of fresh, innovative and significant theatre! Yesterday I had the privilege of attending Live From a Bush of Ghosts, a superb show presented by Theatre Conspiracy. The set ressembles a live DJ set with a dance floor, where the only actress plays an array of intimately tied stories about technology, while two DJ's and a video artist create virtual worlds for her characters. The stories are frighening and contemporary, and the actress uses impressive body language to haunt the spectators' imagination. I particularly enjoyed a part about a stock broker who is fatally tied to her cellphone and begins to breakdown as the market literally crashes all around her.

The show was especially significant to me because the music is inspired by David Byrne and Brian Eno (and I'm going to their concert in a few days!), and the initial part about a Third World electronic trash dump echoed last Thursday's talk by Edward Burtynsky's (his images of these dumps are the most frighteningly beautiful examples of our daily complicity in the Earth's destruction).

This show is playing at Studio 16 (1555 W. 7th Av), at 7pm tonight and 4pm tomorrow (Sunday). Don't miss this!!!

Here is the description on their site:

Spirits arise from the toxic smoke of First World electronic trash dumped in the developing world. A boy lured by an internet predator, a suicidal stockbroker, a heavy metal televangelist — these are a few of the ghosts haunting a woman who melts down computer components to retrieve precious metals for pennies a day.

With music inspired by Brian Eno and David Byrne’s seminal recording My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, Theatre Conspiracy delves into the fallout of digital culture. Electronic band No Luck Club performs along with live video mixes by Candelario Andrade as dancer/actor Tara Cheyenne Friedenberg creates multiple roles to conjure a ghostworld that is a physical, visual, sonic feast for the senses.

Get off the couch!

It takes a unique event to inspire most people to sacrifice their perfect evening on a soft couch, watching a TV comedy on prime time while indulging on some comfort food. Every city, however cosmopolitan, experiences some idle weeks in the year, the kind where nothing poses a serious threat to the couch plan. However, this is NOT the time to stay at home in Vancouver!

Or paraphrasing some Zoolander male model, "Vancouver, it's so hot right now".

Here are my top 5 reasons to leave the couch:

1. (Jan. 14-Feb. 1st) Vancouverites can experience the best culinary marvels of the city by going to Dine-Out Vanouver 2009. For those of you haven't heard, the best restaurants in the city are offering three course meal menus for cheap, fixed prices. Restaurants are divided into three price categories, $18, $28, and $38, and their Dine-Out menus are all available online.

(My favorites: if you feel like going to a cozy bistro and eating a stout and cheddar foundue, a ratatouille provençale, and a chocolate banana bread pudding for only $18, visit Burgoo! If Asian flavors excite your pallate, try the salt spring island mussels, a Vietnamense nuoc cham sablefish or pulled duck confit crepes, and a coconut sticky rice for just $28. Or if you have a fancy date and would like to impress him/her with an albacore tuna tataki, a Kurobota pork roasted for 24 hours, and a key lime cheesecake by Frank Pabst (best chef 2008), visit Blue Water Café for a modest $38. Dine-Out Vancouver is certainly the best excuse to leave your comfort food in the fridge and gain some good winter pounds!)

2. Concerts, concerts, concerts at the Biltmore Cabaret! Metronomy plays on Saturday 24, Matt & Kim play on Wednesday 28, and The Album Leaf play on Saturday 31.

3. (Jan. 16-Feb. 16) For all you film buffs, Pacific Cinematheque is playing a retrospective of films by Japanese director Nagisa Oshima. The retrospective is called In the Realm of Oshima, and it was called "the international film retrospective of the year" by Liam Lacey of the Globe and Mail. I'm dying to watch Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence, starring David Bowie.

4. (Jan. 20-Feb. 8) Thespians be aware! The Push Festival is here! It's probably the most important performing arts festival of the year, and a perfect excuse to miss an episode of Heroes. Some highlights are the amazing show Billy Twinkle by the world's most famous puppet theatre artist Ronnie Burkett, and the Japanese show Five Days in March by the renowned Chelftisch Theatre Company.

5. Gallery openings! Yesterday, Catriona Jeffries Gallery opened a show by Gareth Moore (Jan. 15-Feb. 14). Then, the Cineworks Independent Filmmakers Society opened the screeing of The Soft Revolution at the Interurban Gallery (located at 1 East Hastings). Both are a must see! I went to the The Soft Revolution yesterday and it's an impressive project that breaches the boundaries of linear narrative in cinema by allowing the viewers to interact with the film. There are three screens and two control panels where users can press buttons to select which character comes into play, giving the viewer a feeling of control over the story.

6. (Feb. 1-Mar. 21) If you don't mind going all the way to Surrey, the Surrey Art Gallery is opening Uneasy Beauty, an amazing Edward Burtynsky show! You should NOT miss this exhibit! Apart from the awe inspiring beauty of his work, Burtynsky has become such an important voice for sustainability that in 2005 he earned the TED Prize (click to see his profile and his acceptance speech). This led to the release of his documentary Manufactured Landscapes, which was shown at the Sundance and Toronto film festivals. He is also involved in Worldchanging, the foremost online sustainability community. Did I convince you?

Enjoy.

Minneapolis 101

Wow. I'm surprised and filled with delight. I just came back from a wonderful wedding in Minnesota and I'm pleased to inform that I discovered two inalienable truths. First, that Jewish weddings are definitely the most fun. (I mean, the famous Jewish "chair dance" where everybody elbows each other is infinitely better than the usual "let's dance a corny slow song and have everybody else watch from the sidelines")

Second, that Minneapolis is a gorgeous city for the architecturally sensitive eye! I expected a nice skyline like any other important American city, the usual parks, and some grand avenues. And yes, I knew about the incredible Walker Art Center and about the famous Mall of America. I also expected the unbearable cold that makes your ears numb the second you step out of the airport door. But I never thought that I would be constantly surrounded by impressive buildings by the most renowned architects of our time!

Minneapolis surprised me the second I stepped out of my hotel door the first morning. Not because of the cold (which was quite shocking), but because of the skyways. It turns out that Minnesotans decided to solve their slight weather problem by connecting every building in the downtown area with glass skyways! In other words, you can traverse through most of the downtown (going to work, lunch, running errands, shopping, dining) in the comfort of heated bridges, never stepping outside. In a way, the city is becomes a live mall.

However, to the first time tourist, a skyway feels like a hamster playground that can never substitute the feel of a city's streets. So I did step outside into the cold air, and it paid off. If you're ever planning to visit this city (and I insist, you should), here is a rough sketch of my itinerary, or what some smart marketing guys would call "Minneapolis by foot 101":

Here is a map.

1. Start early at the Walker Art Center and visit the expo. Then, step outside and walk around the building at least seven times to fully enjoy this amazing creation by Herzog and de Meuron. (these Swiss architects were the ones who turned that old London factory into the Tate Modern...and the created the "bird's nest" stadium for the Beijing Olympics). Then walk around the famous sculpture garden.

2. Walk along the Loring Park and visit the Basilica of St. Mary, which looks like a smaller, but definitely not more modest, version of St. Paul's in Rome. Find your way to Nicolett Mall, which is a pedestrian oriented street full of stores, and which runs a parallel to the theatre district. Walk down on Nicollet (towards the river) and you'll catch a great view of the great skyscrapers, like the Foshay Tower.

3. Take a left on 5th Street and go visit the Hennepin County Library. It's simply fantastic! The building was completed in 2006 by none other than César Pelli (or the architect that designed the Petronas Towers in Malaysia). When I was there, I was walking around the central hall when suddenly a small brass band came down the escalator playing the most joyful circus music and momentarily interrupting the typical library silence.

...to be continued...

El Holocausto como símbolo

Hace un par de dias recibí un email que me dejó pensando toda la tarde. Me produjo sentimientos encontrados, pensamientos antagónicos, y un poco de confusión personal. Pasaron dos dias y hoy decidí contestarlo. Luego tomé la mala decisión de postear el email completo sin pedir permiso. Pido una disculpa.

Ahora bien, el email era sobre una persona que visitó la instalación "Cantos Cívicos" de Miguel Ventura en el MUAC y quedó consternado por la comparación entre soldados Nazis, soldados americanos, millonarios mexicanos, y los judíos ricos de Nueva York. Para esta persona la instalación es increíblemente ofensiva hacia la comunidad judía y cuenta que perdió la cabeza y comenzó a gritar que la UNAM tenía que cancelar la exposición. Mi respuesta fue la siguiente:

Hace rato leí tu correo sobre la instalación en el MUAC y me dejó pensando en muchas cosas. Curiosamente, hace un par de dias tuve un exámen final sobre la película "Seven Beauties" de Lina Wertmüller que trata el tema del Holocausto y recibió fuertes críticas de la comunidad judía porque la consideraron "soft" on the Nazis, al igual que con "Life is Beautiful" de Roberto Begnini. En mi opinión, estas críticas optaron por una posición hiperdefensiva y, paradójicamente, poco crítica de la obra. En pocas palabras, they missed the point.

¿A qué voy con todo esto? Creo que la reacción de tu amigo es indicativa de una mala costumbre en la comunidad judía de hiperreaccionar hacia todo lo concerniente al holocausto. Te lo digo con el mayor respeto posible, pero creo que la comunidad se equivoca al pensar que hay sólo UNA manera de ver el Nazismo y sólo UNA manera de intepretarlo y representarlo: la suya.

No he visto la instalación, por lo que mi opinión carece de pruebas y no puedo decirte con toda certeza si estoy de acuerdo con tu amigo o con los curadores. Pero por lo que leo en el email, creo que cuando "perdió la cabeza", tu amigo se vuelve parte de la "primaria simplificación" de la que se queja. Creo que cualquier obra de arte, cualquier texto, tiene varias capas de lectura, y perder la cabeza por pensar que tu interpretación es la única posible me parece excesivo e intelectualmente irresponsable. ¿Qué tal que el mensaje es otro? ¿Existe la posibilidad de que tu amigo no haya entendido la obra? Los libros de Salman Rushdie han ofendido a millones de musulmanes...pero por ello puedes decir que los ofendidos entendieron su obra o la intención del autor? Tal vez, tal vez no. Yo soy de los que no cree que exista una interpretación "correcta" para una obra de arte, por lo que el problema se reduce a tratar de dialogar entre las diferentes posibilidades que se abren con esta anarquía interpretativa.

Continuando con la instalación, no crees que hay un subtexto evidente que bien puede unir a los millonarios mexicanos (que son parte de una elite capitalista que contribuye a la explotación económica del país y a mantener un sistema de privilegios intacto) con los soldados americanos (que son los peones en un juego de dominación económica global, donde está en jaque la seguridad energética de Estados Unidos) con los judíos ricos de NY (que controlan las grandes corporaciones capitalistas y a través del AIPAC aseguran la protección de sus intereses económicos elitistas en el congreso americano) con los Nazis? Sí, con los Nazis (que diseñaron un plan para la dominacion económica global basado en un expansionismo imperialista). Sin duda hay grandes diferencias! Por ejemplo, los Nazis planearon y ejecutaron un genocidio porque su plan de dominación económica tenía un terrible componente de elitismo racial. Pero esa es otra capa de lectura de esta obra.

A diferencia de tu amigo, creo que sí se puede identificar al nacionalsocialismo con todo lo demás. El problema de tu amigo es que para él el nacionalsocialismo automática y exclusivamente significa la exterminación de los judíos. Pero esa es sólo una manera de enfocar el lente. Tu amigo dice, "jamás hay alusión a sus crímenes". Yo le respondo: ¿tiene que haber? (y ¿estás seguro de que la dominación por medios económicos no es un crimen?) ¿Qué tal que pones la cámara en otra perspectiva? Creo que los puedes unir a todos con una palabra: imperialismo. O con otra: elitismo. Otro par: explotación y dominación. En este sentido, los soldados, los ricos mexicanos, los Goldman y los Nazis se vuelven símbolos de lo mismo. Por supuesto la obra no me está diciendo que Carlos Slim se sentaría a cenar con Adolf Hitler, o que un Goldman necesariamente está de acuerdo con la invasión en Irak. Lo que sí me dice es que todos ellos, como símbolos, y vistos desde cierta perspectiva, aluden a lo mismo.

¿No crees entonces que el problema son los símbolos y los significados que les atribuimos? Pienso que los símbolos son construcciones sociales, y por lo tanto, cargan el peligro de ofender a quienes los leen de una sóla manera (el que tu amigo sienta que le "arrebataron su holocausto" implica que se rehusa a aceptar una lectura ajena al holocausto que le han enseñado). Pero también creo que, afortunadamente, los significados nunca son estáticos. It takes only one voice of dissent (and hopefully one email to a friend) to propose a new meaning.

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Puesto que he recibido varios emails de gente que me acusa de trivializar al Nazismo, de querer cambiar los símbolos del holocausto, aclaro lo siguiente:

Mi última frase no propone cambiar el significado del Nazismo para quitarle el componente del genocidio. Por el contrario, mi punto era decir que, además del genocidio, el Nazismo se puede leer en otros planos, y Miguel Ventura aprovecha esta posiblidad para darle una lectura alternativa al Nazismo, una lectura que le permite encontrar un común denominador con los otros "malos" contemporáneos. Posiblemente es una lectura banal y que trivializa los crímenes Nazis porque aísla el aspecto económico y omite la parte más cruel y brutal. De acuerdo! Pero yo en ningún momento di mi opinión sobre si esta lectura me parece adecuada o correcta...simplemente dije que me parece posible su lectura y que perder la cabeza por no querer aceptar que existe esa posibilidad en la mente del artista es irresponsable.

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Recibí otro par de emails que de verdad me hicieron pensar y ahora me toca reformular. Al tratar de defender la "libertad intepretativa" del artista e insistir en que su punto era sólo buscar un común denominador, se me olvidó que por supuesto, las interpretaciones que trivializan también lastiman, y por lo tanto, son poco deseables en un ámbito público como es un museo. El que haya otras lecturas del Nazismo es una obviedad, pero afortunadamente la lectura que prevalece en la mente de la mayoría es la del terror y el genocidio. Y en efecto, tal vez los crímenes de los Nazis son una lección tan importante que sigue siendo demasiado temprano (y tal vez siempre lo será) como para buscarle nuevas interpretaciones a los símbolos. En este sentido, ahora entiendo y tal vez comparto el dolor de quien fue a la exposición y sintió que le quitaban su holocausto, puesto que el artista en efecto ofende al extraerle al Nazismo su componente más brutal. Si bien con mi respuesta inicial busqué defender la libertad creativa del artista (insisto, sin siquiera conocerlo o haber visto la obra), también creo que dentro de la libertad de expresión hay expresiones que merecen ser refutadas. (le agradezco enormemente a los que se tomaron la molestia de escribirme porque sus opiniones sólo me enriquecen)

We the Patriots

I'm writing a term paper addressing the issue of representation of women's bodies by feminist artists. My research today led me to a piece by Barbara Kruger that I had never seen before: "Untitled" (Questions). The artist appropriates the image of the American flag and fills it with questions about authority and power. In this sense, the image invites the viewer to contest the idea of patriotism and forces a critical (feminist) look at American values.



By questioning the values that this flag represents, Kruger's image made me think of all the American flags that today wave freely atop military bases in Afghanistan, Iraq, Guantanamo, etc. It made me think about the freedom and justice embedded in the stars and stripes, and how these waving stars and stripes must look ridiculous when juxtaposed to the nighttime stars and scars of occupied lands. (And who better to explain this hypocrisy of American values than Don Mitchell in his famous "You Who Are The Bureaucrats of Empire, Remember Who We Are.")

This also reminded me of the recent US election. It made me think not only about the enormous patriotic pride generated by Obama's victory, but also about the wave of false patriotism that the McCain-Palin camp unleashed when they rhetorically divided the country into "real America" and "_____ America." Two visions of patriotism, one inclusive, one divisive. (Is any of them desirable?)

p.s. in a few days, Mexico celebrates the anniversary of the Mexican Revolution, a struggle that generated much of the imagery that has been used and reused as symbols of Mexican national pride. I wonder if this celebration is not just recycled patriotism and protocol but still means anything at all. (an interesting viewpoint with Andrés)

Don't Photograph Landscapes

Here is the article that I wrote following Herzog's talk last week. The Ubyssey newspaper published an edited version in last Friday's culture section...but it's Sunday and I've decided to privilege my blogfans with the original version. Enjoy!


Don't Photograph Landscapes

“I’m not here to show my work, I’m here to start a dialogue” said Fred Herzog, as he introduced himself to the eager crowd of aspiring photographers that attended UBC Photosociety’s first annual general meeting at the SUB on September 25. “I hope I can be interrupted often, and I hope you get used to my accent.” At that moment, a projector was fired up, marking the beginning of a memorable evening with the renowned Vancouver photographer.

Herzog’s work needed no introduction. After forty years of photographing street scenes in this city, his images of Vancouver have become as common to photographers as the totem poles in Stanley Park. Yet, it was the photographer’s presence, his own voice explaining his photographs that filled the evening with magic. The kind of magic that exudes from Herzog’s lively, colorful prints.

Born in Germany, Herzog moved to Vancouver in the 1950s and soon began capturing the life of the city with his camera. He separated himself from other photographers by shooting mostly in Kodachrome, a color slide film that was hard to turn into prints. This limited his ability to exhibit because “Making cibachrome prints was not feasible. It was almost impossible for me to make a profit selling the prints.” Thus, although his collection of slides continued to grow, his work remained in the dark for decades.

In a way, however, this initial marginalization helped to turn Herzog into a living legend. His images were taken decades before the were finally shown in galleries, turning his exhibitions into colorful odes to nostalgia. It takes only a minute or two of glancing at the impressive colors and contrast in his photographs to understand the power of images that bring back to life an era that is generally remembered in black and white.

Moreover, anyone that attended Herzog’s fantastic retrospective at the Vancouver Art Gallery last year understands that there is something very personal about his work. His images occur in the most public spaces, yet they remain deeply intimate. As spectators, it feels as if Herzog has suddenly allowed us to take a glimpse into the private life of his subjects, making us all voyeurs of life in an epoch that is foregone but never forgotten.

As a projector showed us some of Herzog’s famous images, Herzog explained that photography is about looking, about waiting. He mocked people who carry a bag full of expensive lenses saying “the picture has to be in your head, not in your camera bag” and underlined the importance of concentrating on a moment, on a sudden detail that makes an otherwise irrelevant scene unique. With this, Herzog revealed his place in the long tradition of documentary photographers who, like Cartier Bresson, causally roamed the streets waiting for the instant précis to capture a unique event forever.

Considering the inherent difficulty of shooting people on the streets, Herzog was quick to explain that it is imperative to look for body language, which includes clothing. Stopping the projector at a picture of a woman with a cigarette in her hand, he said that first impressions matter because humans automatically make judgments of the people they see, and thus, a photograph has to capture a gesture or a detail that gives a strong first impression. He then added, that “if you look long enough, you can find vitality anywhere.”

When asked about the risks of photographing strangers, Herzog first shared that “people have shouted at me, people have told me to get away, people have told me to get off their property, and people have threatened me with calling the police.” Thus, he suggested that we “shoot first, and ask questions later!” However, he confessed that in his particular case it has been easier since by the time he started exhibiting, most of the subjects in his pictures were too old to care. Almost jokingly, he suggested to wait thirty years before publishing a picture of a stranger because “a dead person will not take you to court!”

As the evening came to an end, Herzog delivered his most poetic moment. “To me, the city is a stage and the people on the streets are all actors.” In this sense, Herzog stressed that “We need to record how people look in their natural state…it’s the reality of how we look.” He explained that if photographers don’t accept the task of showing people with no interference, without staging them, then we will lose any visual evidence of the way we really were.

As a closing remark, Herzog comically reminded us for the twentieth time that in order to succeed as photographers, “don’t photograph landscapes, everybody does it, and nobody cares.”

Vik Muniz: Reflex @ San Ildefonso

I must say that my most enjoyable hours in Mexico City this August were spent at the Vik Muniz Reflex expo at the Antiguo Colegio de San Ildefonso (the Jeff Wall expo is a close second). My first contact with this Brazilian artist happened while studying photography at AAVI in Mexico City, but I had never seen his work outside of books. I remembered him as an artist that questioned the boundaries between photography and sculpture.

Reflex was not only surprising for its scope, but it opened my eyes to an artist whom I had previously only admired for his aesthetic quality. Vik Muniz's art is charged with a deep intellectual exploration that became evident as I strolled around the rooms of the incredibly curated expo at San Ildefonso. The work not only grabbed my attention with its inherent visual beauty, but through the photographs, I began to understand Muniz's questioning of our cognitive processes.

It was exciting to stand in front of a peanut butter and jelly Mona Lisa and force my brain to forget Da Vinci, to forget the face, and focus on the materials...to step back and interrupt the way in which my brain automatically assigns names and values to the forms it sees. Or to look at a landscape with a "fake" cloud and realize that my mind cannot escape seeing it as a cloud.

But it was even more surprising to face the "Pictures of Junk". To me, the strong environmental message in "Saturn" and "Narcissus" is truly amplified by the size of the prints and the scale of the objects in the images. Plus, it is inevitable to spend minutes trying to imagine how the artist produced such images. (for details, watch this interview)

The most unique part of the expo was possibly the very last series of photos...the most recent ones. In them, Muniz presents little heaps of random materials mixed together. The materials he usually uses to create his works, the ones that usually come together to represent other recognizable forms or faces, are suddenly shown in formless heaps, full blown and occupying an entire wall. Devoid of the possibility of interpretation, these photographs seemed like a tribute to the actors that made his work possible throughout the years... an ode to the countless pieces of rubbish that Muniz used as clues for patterns that our brains are quick to assemble.

If you're in DF, don't miss it!

Jeff Wall @ Museo Tamayo

Funny. I spend a whole year in Vancouver and I never see a Jeff Wall print face to face. But I go to Mexico City for just a week and I'm suddenly surrounded by some of my favorite photos by Wall at the Museo Tamayo.

As you can read in that link above, the expo was a combination of documentary and cinematographic photos by the Vancouver photographer, and it was curated in such a way that you couldn't tell which were which. Or could you? Well, for those of us who have studied Jeff Wall, the division was obvious. And the museum did provide a simple guide as to which photos belonged to which genre. Yet, I felt that the expo could have provided more clues or background information to understand the importance of Wall's work.

Quoting from Charlotte Cotton's The Photograph as Contemporary Art, "Wall's careful construction of a grouping of peripheral things prompts questions about our own relationship with photographs: Why are we looking at this? At what point in history and our own lives did a corner of a floor represented in a photograph become iconic, worthy of our attention? To what degree does it need to be abstracted by the seemingly innocent frame in order for us to recognize this grouping of non-subjects to be a still life? The beauty of Wall's photography is that, while it raises these complex questions, it still satisfies us as works of art" (131).

Anyway, don't miss it if you're in Mexico City...but definitely read The Luminist before you go.

Requiem to Art

I saw this deeply disturbing note on the Vancouver Sun a few weeks ago. The Device to Root out Evil, one of the most though-provoking and visually enticing sculptures in the city of Vancouver, was rooted out of its location, a park in the beautiful Coal Harbour. The sculpture by Dennis Oppenheim depicted an upside down church, an eye-catching image that invariably led to a myriad of interpretations.

I remember smiling when I first discovered the sculpture last year. It was my first week in Vancouver and I gladly sat to admire the sculpture's evoking power (I then took the second picture you see here). To me, the Device to Root out Evil represented the need for religious institutions to reform themselves, an urgency to "turn the house upside down" and reinvent their practices. I also thought that the sculpture could be a call to bury religion altogether, to root out the irrational evils of religious fundamentalism in an age where scientific thought is once again under siege.

Art exists to inspire thought, to generate discussion. The function of art is definitely not constrained to its aesthetic qualities. Art expresses the struggles and controversies of its era...it is never neutral.

Unfortunately, Vancouver Park officials didn't see the the true value of a sculpture that, at the very least, generated food for thought. To me, apart from its inherent physical beauty, the fact that this sculpture generated social controversy was its greatest value. Controversy can lead to thought and constructive criticism. It can lead to introspection and to a rethinking of one's core beliefs. To dismiss a sculpture's value on the grounds that "it blocked the view of some neighbors" is an insult to all citizens of Vancouver. Unfortunately, as Miro Cernetig points out, the rooting out of this sculpture shows that Vancouver has not yet shed its "small town" skin. It's simply striking for a city with such a cosmopolitan mix of people. (where is my dear Mexico City when I need it?)

The Vancouver Park Board's excuse was cowardly, to say the least.

An Interview

Given that this blog's first post in English had to be something special, I hereby share my recent interview with Hank Bull, director of Centre A.

The Champion of Asian Art.

The sole barrier separating West Hastings Street and the gallery space at Centre A is a long glass wall that can be penetrated through a small door. It feels as if the inside wants to permeate the glass and fuse with the outside. To a person walking along the street, the attraction is inevitable. No lineups, no reception, no ticket counter, no coat check, not a single flight of stairs or even a wall between the newcomer and the art displayed at the Vancouver International Centre for Contemporary Asian Art. 

I entered the small door for the first time, together with my friend Christiane, in February 2008 to interview Hank Bull, the director of Centre A. My first impression was that of a person who has just entered a large warehouse or a hangar, and feels uneasy in the large space. As we sat waiting for Hank on a couple of couches that lie in a corner of the gallery, our eyes began to understand the chameleonic properties of the space. The size of the gallery and the height of the ceilings make it suitable for any type of exhibition. 

Hank Bull appeared and after a brief explanation of our mission, we began asking him the questions that we had previously agreed upon. But Hank is not a person that can be easily bound and he immediately escaped the intermittent structure of our script. 

Almost apologetically, Hank began by saying that Centre A exists to break down barriers. His intention is to facilitate the transgression of roles of the traditional museum by expanding the field of cultural intervention. In other words, the art should not stop abruptly behind the doors of the gallery and the artist should not bow to the traditional labour structure that hangs over larger institutions. Artist cum curator cum explorer, Hank envisions a place without hierarchies, where multitasking is the norm, and where the artist and his art are in constant dialogue with the viewer, the bystander, and with the street. 

A decade ago, Hank took a year-long trip to Asia to escape the Paris-New York syndrome and he came back with the dream of creating an art go-to center in Vancouver that truly reflected the ethnic composition of the city. He dreamt of a place for new Asian artists to legitimize their art, but also for established artists to have a platform for interaction with the public. “Art is about people” said Hank, as he explained that by enabling residencies, the gallery becomes a workshop for artists, who develop their art through a constant interaction with the gallery’s visitors. 

The door of the gallery suddenly opened and a homeless resident of East Hastings appeared behind us. She gave us a joyful greeting and Hank introduced her as one of the honorary visitors to Centre A. In an instant, the life of the streets fused with the space of the gallery, marking the absurdity of the outside/inside binary opposition.

“Our location is crucial” continued Hank. The gallery is located at the cultural heart of Vancouver, on the corner that divides Gastown from Chinatown, West from East. The street outside is always vibrant with people walking or pushing shopping carts. Anyone can walk in, the door is always open. This enables Centre A to receive constant feedback from the community it serves and, thus, live up to the director’s vision: to build a pluralistic democracy through art.

I was interested in knowing how Centre A relates to the more traditional Vancouver Art Gallery and Hank explained that partnerships are very common in this city. This led me to ask how Centre A was different and he was quick to deliver the central response in our conversation: the VAG does not reflect the ethnic reality of Vancouver. Even if they cooperate, Centre A’s main drive is to boost the Asian presence in the city in order to fulfill its mission: “push the boundaries of contemporary art that question and complicate the construction of Asian and Asian-Canadian cultural identity.”

Centre A does not settle on a particular construction of “Asian.” It is crucial for the gallery’s survival to maintain an edge of transgression because, as Mr. Bull puts it, “you don’t want to be an agent for liberation and then become an instrument of control.” In this sense, “we don’t tell you what Asian is…we’re here to open the door to exponents of ‘Asian’ without defining it.” After hearing this I began to understand that Hank Bull’s vision includes a constant battle for ideas to redefine the cultural environment of Vancouver. Centre A then becomes not only the setting, but also the moderator and even the debater in this fight.

Hank Bull is on a mission to reinvent the museum and to save the Vancouver Art Scene from the bounds of western paradigms. Lucky for art, he won’t stop until cultural diversity is sufficiently represented in the city.

February 29, 2008