Thursday, 3 July 2014

Iconografía Inserta




A menudo nos sentimos mas genuinamente involucrados en nuestras tradiciones culturales estando  lejos de la patria.

Durante varios años he vivido fuera de México mi país. Cuando la gente me pregunta sobre México, son por lo general los lugares comunes o las situaciones adversas de su compleja historia socio-política  los que despiertan  la curiosidad, salvo excepciones, claro.

El otro día me sorprendió la mirada penetrante de la Kahlo dentro de una cajita como diciendo: "Mira, he desafiado a la muerte a través del arte y ahora estoy aquí en una casa del país donde nació mi padre"

Esta revelación me ha hecho pensar cuánto me  gustaría que el arte milenario de mi país fuera motivo de asombro mas a menudo así como a mí me ha refrescado reencontrarme con su plástica única y su espiritualidad en ese sentido de luz que proviene y va hacia la contemplación estética.

El arte de México es la voz digna de una cultura tan colorida y vasta como su misma iconografía. Sus elementos gráficos son alfabeto universal y también melodía.

La siguiente es una serie de fotografías tomadas en la casa de una amiga en la región vinícola del Rin, Alemania.

Mi amiga vivió una temporada relativamente corta en México pero lo suficiente para sentir su candor y su belleza y por ello supo empacar bien las maletas antes de partir.

Este día es la parte por el todo la que me transporta a los grandes muralistas: David Alfaro Siqueiros, Diego Rivera, Roberto Montenegro, Rufino Tamayo; a la poesía de Cuevas y la prosa de Paz, al buen cine Mexicano, a los espacios místicos de Luis Barragán, a la fotografīa de Manuel Alvarez Bravo, a la danza y al monumental Bellas Artes y sé que me quedo muy corta de nombres y de cronologías pero es en fin, esta iconografía inserta por la cual hoy abrazo en la imaginación un árbol de hule que da sandías.


[English Version]
It is often when we are far away from our country that we feel more rooted to our own cultural traditions.

I have been living overseas for several years. And it is generally speaking the common place or the adverse aspects of Mexico's complex socio-political history those that awake in people's curiosity, save for some exceptions.

The other day Kahlo's intense gaze behind the glass of a little box caught me by surprise as if saying: "Look at me, I have defied death through art and now I'm here in the land of my father".

This event transported me to the great Mexican Muralists: David Alfaro Siqueiros, Rufino Tamayo, Diego Rivera, Roberto Montenegro; to Cueva's poetry and Octavio Paz' prose, to the good Mexican cinema and the mythical spaces of Luis Barragán's architecture, to Manuel Alvarez Bravo's photography and the magnificent "Palacio de Bellas Artes".  The mention is short of names and chronologies.

It made me think how wonderful it would be if Mexico's ancient art was more often the source of curiosity, just as my spirit has been stirred by it. Its aesthetic contemplation comes from and leads to spiritual enlightenment.

Mexican art is a dignifying and prevailing voice. It presents us with a culture that is as richly colored as its own iconography.
The graphic elements are universal language and melody at once.

The following are a series of photographs taken at a friend's place in the Rhine Valley, Germany.

My friend lived for a relatively short period in México, yet it was long enough to ensure she knew how to best pack the luggage.

It is this embedded iconography the one which takes me to embrace in all imagination a rubber tree  bearing watermelons.
             


When I looked for the signature on this I found none. What a pity.


[Art work by Máximo Xavier for Tequila José Cuervo]

Alemania Julio 2 del 2014. Un pequeño homenaje a México.

Wednesday, 2 July 2014

Life at its core



The link below is a small compilation of photographs around the Rhine Valley during light variations.
It's good to retrieve to nature, to its generosity and peaceful wisdom.




Wednesday, 14 May 2014

Boro



Just as stitches follow one another, the past weekend I was able to stitch together pieces of my own memory fabric.

The visit to De Rien's clothing atelier in London and a recent visit to Sommerset House where I discovered Boro.

Boro's origins date back to the Edo period (17th-and early 19th Century) 
and it was what impoverished Japanese people would wear in times of economic struggle. 
Centuries have gone by but Boro's beautiful qualities have prevailed and it is gaining increasing currency among talented designers in an array of beautiful reinterpretations.

Colour is an important aspect of Boro, hence, the indigo tones as opposed to those worn by the aristocracy like golden or red. 

The interesting part in this sequel has been to experience how things acquire a different dimension when removed from their original context.
It is also notable how this shift in time and space confers the object with new meaning and purpose.
Ironically, it is Boro's aesthetic value -though not exclusively- what current trends in design deem so valuable, making it an object of desire and inspiration. 

Boro's beauty lies in its organic quality which makes it rather humane and intriguing. The visible stitches as symbols of frailty and wounded stories. Patched and washed out, and when seen from afar, a marvellous map of light and shadow.

The relevance it has taken among some designers and craftspeople is -a lucky act for us- of openness, visual stimulation and individuality, which mass production could not replace.



Boro is the Japanese stitch work on worn out pieces of  fabric which dates back to war time when it was worn by the impoverished population and blue was regarded as a less luxurious colour as opposed to red which denoted a higher social status.

Sunday, 6 April 2014

Of factories, façades and phenomenal Lynch


This blog is about connecting some dots that don't seemingly have anything in common, except, they make sense to me .
The first one is David Lynch, followed by the Tate London and random memories, and if I can't pull out of this one; I'll fetch an eraser head.
David Lynch's exhibition at the Photographers Gallery London, is an ode to his haunting universe. The B&W pictures were taken in run-down factories in Germany, Poland and England.
At the exhibition, just as with his films, we are surreptitiously transported to another space and time. The feeling may be enhanced by the soundscape he composed and that moves along with us through the room bringing elements of motion, three dimensionality and suspense.

While looking at the prints I remembered my own fascination for such spaces and the imposing shadows they cast. Their rust and abandonment.
The first formal job I held was located in the outskirts of the city. The area is literally called "The industrial zone" and the landscape is dominated by factorie's long tentacles and breath.
Most people would have found it gloom but it was rather interesting to me.
Some of the first charcoal drawings I made are influenced by fumes and smoke.

More or less around the same time; the final year of university, my father gave me a photography book on aspects of life across the vast ex-USSR with larger than life pictures of young punks, working people, life in the city, derelict concrete sites and the inhospitable far away places. Exacerbated nationalism, human struggle, beauty and hope.
And Film was my best buddy along those years.

Days after Lynch's exhibition I visited the Tate Modern in London.
The Tate is situated in a former power station by the Thames Southbank.
The dramatic character of the façade can be seen from far away across the Millennium Bridge and beyond. It's a most perfect sight for art in all its force.


Excerpt from the Photographers Gallery documents cited for this exhibition:

"I got a taste for a certain kind of architecture and a feeling for machines and smoke and fear. To me, the ideal factory location has no real nature, except winter-dead black trees and oil- soaked earth. Time disappears when I'm shooting in a factory, it's really beautiful".
David Lynch