a painting with a map and a ciguapa figure, a map and Spanish colonisation

Result #1

a painting with a map and a ciguapa figure, a map and Spanish colonisation . . . The picture world . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . and then comes the spray. It is easy to see the roots of the work in landscape, the regions of the upper ocean. As a catalyst for the vision of selfhood and motherhood, it seems to me that Pirri uses the canvas, the symbol of Western civilization, as a receptacle, to speak the language of experience. It is a canvas in its own right, however, as a sign that a painting can be used and understood as a sign. Thus, Pirri does not paint the picture world as it is, but as it has been historically sanctioned and represented. He tells us that there is no reason to believe that the whole painting, the whole picture world, exists in one country or in one sense of the word. But he does not tell us that Pirri is not interested in bringing the painting down to earth. He is a painter.The recent work seems to me to be fully engaged with the issues of freedom and authenticity, and with the question of the pictorial as a locator of the self. In a number of pieces, the canvas is meant to be a viewer of the self. In some pieces the canvas is seen as a screen for a range of dreams, but they are not visions of freedom, but of images of the self. The paintings, as opposed to the canvas, are about individual reality and its repression. One of the paintings in the show is a dramatic picture of a white-robed figure (the artist) who is seen from above; her body is veiled by a large wooden mask. The white mask, and perhaps the whiteness of the figure, is the major symbol of female sexuality, but it also signifies the absence of freedom and the fear of everything and anything.In the other paintings, the canvas is not a sign of the self.

Result #2

ids. This is the most convincing, and the most direct, of the three pieces. The map, above the head of a paisagoría, is a map of Spain, which is broken into quarters by the red and black lines of the lines which make up the map; the cigarette and map are shown both as well as in black and white. The map is the same as that of the paisagoría, and the cigarette is a crumpled map of Europe. The paintings are done in white chalk, and there is a line of chalk left over from the sketch-ing of the map. They are coloured in white chalk and in coloured-pencil on paper, with red chalk and dark red chalk. The chalk is in a way reminiscent of the map of Spain, but the chalk in some respects runs to the Spanish crudeness. In the space of the painting, the chalk is color. It is also the red chalk which is painted and is still there in the painting, and the leaves, which are in some places mottled red, seem to fall into a map of Europe. With the smoke in the fireplace, the chalk becomes a map of a cigarette. This is a mapping of space, and of some contemporary, modern, and European scenes, as well as a map of the world. One is left with a map of the world which is a map, a map of the world, and a map of a map of the world. In the current drawings the cartographer has drawn up a map of the world, in the direction of New York. Here, on a map, there are both the cartographers map and the map of New York City.

Result #3

urns. In this sense, the exhibition, unlike Cézannes 1964—as yet, one would like to say, the sole one-man show in the United States—is a meticulously thought-out, sensually evocative proposition.Chronos far-flung, artisanal approach and his capital-I iconography offer striking contrasts with the celebratory, professionalized patina of the contemporary art market, where everything is coated with shiny, high-gloss, technologically sophisticated varnish and neatly packaged in pristine box frames. Chronos contemplative use of materials may be ascendant, as the show emphasizes; but there is a logic to the choice of material, one that reflects the artists practice as a whole. Yet, as Quartz notes, the exhibition creates a profound sense of alienation from any and all art-market discourse.

Result #4

a painting with a map and a ciguapa figure, a map and Spanish colonisation Photo: Raul Aguilar. On the floor, a thousand computer terminals held no words. But then the images came to life: Viewer reactions on social media like Facebook comments and Google searches, in turn, were published in a parade of photographs and text from all around the world, the panels combined into a spellbinding pattern. In the middle of the gallery, a place called, like an Instagram feed, where the artworks were presented, was invaded by the theory of memory and forgetting. The screens showed the history of graffiti, a personal index of locations and actions. The artist Alex de Guzman had made a textboard. From there, one could watch the most revealing moments of the exhibition. But then the installation disappeared. Artworks, text and history intertwine in this haunting pictorial space of possibility.The most striking and unforgettable moment was the nightmarish plot of a surreal movie called Máquina ciudade (The Cumming, 2013). The film was shot in Río de la Calle de Marbella in São Paulo, a dark city where a criminal is trapped inside an abandoned building. He is imprisoned, but is never let out. He is kept at an unknown distance by guards; he wanders through the center of the city, only to be captured by the artist Maria Gil. She film him in a dreamy dream world, with the artist and his cat, in a macabre moment of domestication, the artist collapsing into the wild animal. The boy knows that the cats stare at him, but he doesnt know what to do with them. One day, he attacks the cat, but the cat is fighting back, but they are struggling against it; the violent encounter is followed by the artists evocation of the melancholy and solitude of the dream, of the repression and nostalgia that accompany powerlessness.

Result #5

a painting with a map and a ciguapa figure, a map and Spanish colonisation (lo que lea pinto que el conjurador sulla mapa un paisagremiento) (Untitled [Map of the Conquistadors and the Conquistadors Remnant), 1990–91). Peña de Ocalupis transposition of painted and drawn figures into the outer space, making them human as a result of the harshness of the Spanish sun, unites them with the other sculptures, such as San Antonio Sancho (Chair), 1996, made of a woven satin over a wooden leg, as well as with the other outdoor assemblages of furniture (Señoril), mules, and baskets.The interaction of the two objects and the presence of the anthropomorphic forms in the background creates a dialectical tension between light and dark, tangible and immaterial. Light is transformed into a phantom in the area of the satin in San Antonio Sancho, for example, while dark, organic elements such as flowers and metal are conveyed in the legs. In Fala duas individuadoras (Whole Races), 1992, Peña de Ocalupi depicts a female figure, her head covered with a figure on a bucket, hands at her sides and right hands, and a female torso in motion, creating a kind of nebulous interior. The painted figures become a visual metaphor for a community in which various racial aspects are fused with various elements of femininity. Other pieces incorporate ceramic reliefs, of the sort typically found in tables or home furnishing, in which the figures seem to be part of the surface of the plaster surface, and with the objects themselves functioning as architectural elements. Here, the motherly figure in the foreground—the artist herself—has been replaced by the woman who holds a bucket (especially when the title, Por otro fondo, comes from the Latin for bucket, not woman). Though in the context of this exhibition, this transformation is certainly not playful or ironic.