Daily Outtake: Stainless at The 8th Floor

I’ve decided to try something new around here: a daily outtake, a snippet of the day that could lead to something larger–a meatier post, an article, a project–but might also lead to nothing more than the post itself.


Because if I wait until I have time to write a full post here, I’ll never get around to posting; because I like the idea of using the blog as a scrapbook for filing notes; and because you never know what tidbits of daily life can produce really interesting conversations.

And that’s what I’ve always wanted this space to be: a place where the words I share serve as invitation for you to tell me what you’re doing, reading, thinking, and experiencing.

One of the works by Stainless in the "One of a Kind" exhibit. (Photo: @collazoprojects)
One of the works by Stainless in the “One of a Kind” exhibit. (Photo: @collazoprojects)

So today’s outtake is a quick thought about “One of a Kind,” the current exhibit by Stainless that’s showing at The 8th Floor, a Manhattan gallery for Cuban art. This was my first time seeing the collective’s work and I’ll admit I was a bit underwhelmed, though I did find the video installation piece pretty funny.

Sometimes it’s the case that the idea of an exhibit is better than the exhibit itself, and that’s how I feel about “One of a Kind.” The questions the exhibit raises, which are articulated most clearly by Ted Henken in his essay found in the show’s program, are pretty compelling, especially in the context of Cuban art, but also, more generally, in the context of, as Henken says, in “the digital age, when virtually any media product…can be perfectly reproduced and endlessly shared an unlimited number of times at negligible cost in a multiplicity of formats[.]”

“Does the value we give an ‘original’ diminish, erode away to nothing in this context…?” he asks, or “does our praise for the ‘one of a kind’ in fact increase in direct proportion to our ability to copy and share (sub) ‘versions’ of it with our ‘friends’?”

The way that Stainless insinuates these questions is by showing works that are “displayed as one of an unknown number of copies, rather than a singular inimitable object.” Now that I find intriguing, as it challenges the system by which art has traditionally been marketed and sold. But the works themselves feel banal to me, especially “Cosmos Advertising,” which depicts stars, planets, and galaxies as brand logos.

So would I recommend seeing this exhibit? If you’re going for the work itself, no. But if you want to challenge basic assumptions about art as merchandise, then yes; the exhibit is worth your time.

Now Showing in NYC: “Drapetomanía: Grupo Antillano and the Art of Afro-Cuba”

Text & Instagram Photos:
Julie Schwietert Collazo
No critical commentary to accompany this announcement… just a quick note to say that I took a turn through The 8th Floor’s latest exhibit today and it’s worth a visit.

Six of the works included in the "Drapetomanía" show.
Six of the works included in the “Drapetomanía” show.

“Drapetomanía: Grupo Antillano and the Art of Afro-Cuba” is a show that focuses on work that was made between 1978 and 1983 by Afro-Cuban artists and/or with African and Afro-Cuban/Caribbean influences. The exhibit includes pieces by some of the most recognizable names of the period, among them Manuel Mendive and Rene Peña, as well as others who have largely been forgotten in the years since.

The show, which pulls many of its pieces from the collection of the Rubins (again, showing just how wide-ranging their taste and knowledge of art are), was curated by Alejandro de la Fuente, author and Harvard professor. Francisco and I met de la Fuente back in 2006, when he presented his book, A Nation for All: Race, Inequality, and Politics in 20th Century Cuba, at the Brooklyn Public Library; this show is a compelling extension of his long course of study on Afro-Cuban issues and ideas.

“Drapetomanía” opened on March 7 and will continue until July 18. The 8th Floor is located at 17 West 17th Street in Manhattan, and is open Tuesday-Thursday from 11am-6pm and on Friday from 10am-5pm.

Ending Soon: Steven Daiber’s “Aqui en la Lucha” at The Center for Book Arts

Text & Photos:
Julie Schwietert Collazo

It had been ages since I’d visited The Center for the Book Arts, a small and lovely space in Chelsea where, among other activities, books are made. I’d all but forgotten about the spot, which hosts workshops, classes, and exhibits, but a question about book preservation prompted me to stop by last weekend.

Images from "Aqui en la Lucha," an exhibit that runs through March 29 at The Center for Book Arts in New York City.
Images from “Aqui en la Lucha,” an exhibit that runs through March 29 at The Center for Book Arts in New York City.

Coincidentally, the Center was showing an exhibit about Cuba called “Aqui en la Lucha.” If you’ve been to Cuba, you’ll likely recall this phrase, a refrain of daily life that means, more or less, “Here in the struggle.” When someone asks, “How are you doing?”, a Cuban is apt to respond, “Aqui, en la lucha.”

The exhibit, which runs through March 29, is a project of Steven Daiber, an American artist who has been traveling to Cuba since 2001. There, he has taught book arts to professional artists and in art schools in Havana; the exchanges he has had with Cuban artists led, in 2007, to the development of a project that resulted in this exhibit, which consists of several handmade books containing images made by silkscreen, lithograph, and woodcut. Each book is organized around a theme; though fairly predictable in nature (ie: the same social and political themes that are explored in most Cuban artwork shown in the U.S.), some of the images are really striking, including “La llama,” which shows a trio of paper airplanes suspended by a string, hovering between flames surrounding them on both sides.

The exhibit is small but engaging, especially for those who enjoy Cuban art or have a general interest in Cuba. “Aqui en La Lucha” runs through March 29.

Now on Exhibit: Contemporary Cuban Art in New York

Text: Julie Schwietert Collazo
Photos: Francisco Collazo
New York has long been one of the best places to see Cuban art in the US, but this month has been especially busy for Cuban art lovers, with three high-profile exhibits that have gained lots of mainstream media coverage.

I won’t offer much opinion here about the state of contemporary Cuban art (I did that in this 2010 post, and my opinion hasn’t changed significantly since then). Here, it’s just my intention to provide a round-up of the three exhibits and offer a few quick thoughts about each.

Exhibit: “Waiting for the Idols to Fall”
Artist: Various
Venue: The 8th Floor
Quick Thoughts: Of the three exhibits mentioned here, this was the one that I was most interested in seeing. It was also the one I found most disappointing. The proposito of the curators was to explore, in their words, “how Cuban artists represent ‘lo cubano’ without resorting to some variation on the same old icons.” And yet, almost all of the works in the show include the very icons that both characterize Cuban art and, in my opinion, contribute to its stagnation.

A work exhibited in "Waiting for the Idols to Fall."
A work exhibited in “Waiting for the Idols to Fall.”

Still, if you’re not familiar with The 8th Floor, it’s a great place to contemplate Cuban art. The works exhibited here are drawn from the collections of the Rubins (yes, of the Rubin Museum), and are often interesting. The gallery has never been crowded when we’ve visited.

“Waiting for the Idols to Fall” was scheduled to close this week, but has been extended to May 15. Be sure to check The 8th Floor’s website on the day you want to visit; the gallery often closes (or closes early) for special events.

Exhibit: “No Limits”
Artist: Alexandre Arrechea
Venue: Park Avenue Malls
Quick Thoughts: A couple of well-respected curators and museum directors were effusive in their praise of the works in this series (as quoted in the Wall Street Journal), but in my own opinion, I don’t feel like Arrechea, one of the original members of the art collective Los Carpinteros, is really pushing his own limits artistically.

One of the works in Alexandre Arrechea's "No Limits" series.
One of the works in Alexandre Arrechea’s “No Limits” series.

Exhibit: “Goodbye, My Love”
Artist: Esterio Segura
Venue: Anita’s Way (the passage between W. 42nd and W. 43rd Streets, between 6th Avenue and Broadway)
Quick Thoughts: The symbolism of Esterio Segura’s installation is pretty simple and pretty obvious, but it’s also moving, especially for those of us who experience physical separation from our loved ones. What’s also interesting is that this exhibit involves a local restaurant, Aureole, which has created a special dessert and a special cocktail to reflect the themes of the exhibit.

"Goodbye My Love" by Esterio Segura.
“Goodbye My Love” by Esterio Segura.

Has Cuban art become stagnant?

Text: Julie Schwietert Collazo
Photos: Francisco Collazo

“Levitar” by Tomas Sanchez

“I guarantee the artist is Cuban,” I say aloud, but to no one in particular, as I look at a painting at the PINTA Latin American Art Fair, which is taking place in New York City this weekend before it packs up and heads to London for an engagement next year.

A woman studying the same painting looks at me and asks, “How do you know?” Five minutes later, as I’m expounding upon the common themes of modern and contemporary Cuban art, she’s probably sorry she asked the question. When I notice she’s looking for a way to escape gracefully, I give her an out. “Enjoy the fair.”

I don’t know about Cuban art because I’ve studied it formally. I know it because I’ve seen so much of it. After a while, all of its distinctive characteristics become immediately evident, even to the auto-didactic eye. In paintings, there will be palm trees. Water. Boats, generally of a shoddy variety like the one Francisco took to the United States. Whimsical, fairy-tale like characters, often unmoored from land, floating away. There will be color–lots of it. On the most concrete, obvious level, there will be the depiction of the island itself.

“Maleconada” by Jorge Perugorria

Cuban photography is even easier to pin down. Crumbling architecture. Ironic contrasts that underscore Cuba’s political and economic situations, a not so subtle commentary, even when artists insist, as they inevitably do, that their work “isn’t political.” Again, the ocean.

In all genres: images of or references to Che and Fidel. The use of currency. Windows with a view of water pushing out to the horizon.

A work by by Yoan Capote at the Jack Shainman Gallery

Art, of course, reflects life. But the life depicted in Cuban art is so puzzling in its partiality. Regardless of one’s views of the Revolution, people still love. They still work. They still eat, go to school, get sick. They have birthday parties. But rarely are these aspects of life visible in Cuban art work.
To the art lover who is new to Cuban art, these images and symbols and subjects I’ve mentioned will all likely seem novel, as they should. The crowd at the recent Yoan Capote exhibit at the Jack Shainman Gallery in Chelsea seemed charmed by the artist’s work.

A work by by Yoan Capote at the Jack Shainman Gallery

Though I was impressed by his range of genres and his technical skill in executing each–sculpture, photography, installation, drawing, painting, and multimedia– I was underwhelmed by the preoccupations explored in the work, as well as their conceptual execution. When asked to elaborate on one of his pieces, Capote, giving a talk to visitors, said, “I don’t like to talk too much about my work. I feel it’s a bit like undressing a woman.”

Longing, loss, freedom and the lack of it, deterioration, the tension of living in a seemingly perpetual ambiguity… these are all, inarguably, part of “the Cuban experience.” As such, they will inevitably be explored by artists in their work. At the same time, I’m keen to see Cuban artists exploring these emotions in new ways.

Cuban art has become stagnant.

That’s what I thought as I looked at the Cuban pieces on display at PINTA.

I was desperate to see something different.
But if Cuban art has become stagnant, viewers and collectors bear at least part of the blame. Gallerists, curators, and collectors have commodified Cuba through its art, drawing the boundaries of what is saleable and, therefore, what is “valuable,” what is showable, and indeed, what Cuban art “is.” The Cuba and la cubanidad in Cuban art reflects, at least in part, the life that we imagine Cubans live: a life romanticized by the narrative of ingenuity and resolve amidst poverty, of yearned for and frustrated escape, of predictable, recognizable symbols.

The message to Cuban artists, then, is that to be of interest and to sell abroad, their work must incorporate these elements and reinforce the narratives that people who don’t actually live their reality–their realities–have written for them. How to revive the creativity and range of thematic exploration in Cuban art, then, depends at least as much upon the viewer as the artist.

When and how the conditions will change that shape the viewer’s concept of Cuban art may be even more interesting and explosive than any shift on the part of Cuban artists.