Bounding Billow: Sailors Printing on the High Seas

Martin Mazorra and Mike Houston of Cannonball Press braved the snowstorm of the season (if not the century) traveling from Brooklyn to Philadelphia. Their mission: delivery of a refurbished press and a trial run printing aboard the Cruiser Olympia, for the Out of Print program of Philagrafika 2010.

They managed to get the press onto the ship which required going across the deck of the submarine, the Becuna and into the Olympia. From there the press was deposited into the Admirals' quarters in the front of the ship where the boat has heat for the Cannonball to work

Printing press which lives aboard the Cruiser Olympiahis press is not the original, nor is it in working order - so Cannonball artists found a contemporary to what would have been used to print The Bounding Billow for the Out of Print project in the spring of 2010. Also shown is the exhibit case with the artist book that Cannonball has printed for the project.

After getting the press on the ship we headed to the Franklin Fountain for some research...they would like to have an ice cream social aboard the ship in March as part of the SGC conference...these are the Tarzan, a banana split and the Vesuvius (amazing).

Today the city of Philadelphia was blanketed by 23+ inches of snow. I documented my travels to the ship where I found the Cannonball boys wrapping up the trial print run on board. They were printing the last pages of a beautiful artist book that they created for the project. The book includes stories they gathered from their research at the Independence Seaport Museum alongside illustrations, based on woodcut prints they created.

Video adventure walking to the Cruiser Olympia from South Philly today during the snowstorm to see Cannonball Press test printing

The clamshell press in the Admiral quarters where Mike and Martin were printing, plus the chase locked up on the press with the magnesium plate of the text for the spread they printed shown here alongside an illustration of the engine from the ship.

Hope to see you this spring - family fun day planned for April 10. In the meantime, stay tuned for more details about the ice cream social printing day on board during SGC conference.

Best,

Caitlin

Interview: Thomas Kilpper

Thomas Kilpper, The Ring, 2000. Woodcut on fabric; view of the floor/matrix.

Thomas Kilpper is a German artist and activist currently based in Berlin. A prolific artist that does drawings, sculptural and performance-based work, he is especially known for his large woodcuts, or “floor cuttings.” Kilpper takes woodcut to another level in terms of scope and scale, so that it becomes site-specific and attains literally architectural proportions. Kilpper carves the entire floors of buildings slated for redevelopment or demolition, often taking inspiration for the images from the history of the building itself. The floors become vast matrices and can sometimes be visited, but often end up being destroyed. The prints, done in fragments on paper or as enormous banners on fabric, are the witnesses to this obliteration of urban history. They are hung on the facades of the buildings as a way to bring the hidden or repressed buildings to the surface, literally exposing them to the public gaze.

Perhaps one of the strongest works to date is State Of Control, currently on view at the Neuer Berliner Kunstverein. Kilpper carved a linoleum floor of the former headquarters of the Stasi, the fearsome secret police of the German Democratic Republic. The building is accessible to the public for the first time, and it seems fitting that prints are the medium for opening up this symbolic Pandora's box of Germany's recent past. The images recall different aspects of German history, intertwined with images from Kilpper’s own biography as well as references to State repression, censorship, and resistance to injustice throughout history.

This interview was done via email.

J. Roca.

José Roca: When did you become interested in woodcuts in particular and printing in general?

Thomas Kilpper: I think it was in 1996 or 97. At that time I was still studying at the Staedel Art School in Frankfurt- where I was doing large-scale charcoal drawings- and I thought it might be good to heighten the resistance of the material, to do cutting rather than drawing to intensify the physical process of my work.

JR: How did your project of engraving the floors of condemned buildings come about?

TK: I learned that a building compound where I had been living got cleared for demolition and I knew there was parquet flooring. I went there and took some 12-15 square meters out. I considered reassembling it in my studio and using it for carving a woodblock and then printing it. But in the studio, becoming aware of how much labor was involved in reassembling all the bits and pieces, I changed my plan and went back to the empty building and started to carve up the floor. It was fairly quickly decided. I did not ask for permission. After four or five days of carving, when I was starting to do a test-print, I was discovered by the contractors. They kicked me out, but not without threatening to charge me for having destroyed the parquet flooring.

The artist carving the parquet floor with a power router and printing with a roller.

The following night I came back with a friend and took a print before the whole building came down. Afterward, I was not quite happy with the result. The image was not adequate for the concept and I decided to search for a building where I could get permission to do a site-related intervention. In 1998 I found such a site, where I was able to cut into the very substance and material of the building. Gordon Matta Clark's “house-splittings” and his other architectural interventions were among my favorite bodies of work when I was a student. I was attracted by the physical process of destroying, of hammering and cutting but creating something new at the same time. But in contrast to Matta Clark I wanted to refer not only to the aesthetic but also to the social and political aspects of the specific site.

I never took any printing course at the academy. I considered this project both a sculptural intervention and installation, and also a printing workshop- tattooing the skin of the building, and turning the architecture, the floors of the building, into a stamp. Maybe the attraction to do so has to do with my relation to my father, who was an architect too.

Thomas Kilpper, The Ring, 2000. View of the banner installed on the facade of the Orbit building, London, a former boxing ring.

Are you questioning a society of planned obsolescence, where things -even large “things” like buildings- are replaced in order to make way for something more economically efficient?

No. I love to take odd looking or smelly derelict houses. In the eighties I did some years of squatting, and it was exactly that same feeling of “conquering” something that is considered worthless for others, but that could mean so much to you. Vacancy is a widespread byproduct of our economy and as such, vacant space somehow becomes semi-public: it is privately-owned, but publicly neglected. At the same time it is an opportunity to get space for free or for cheap. I always find it interesting to do projects aside from the art-institutions. Right away, the projects are not just stuck inside an ivory tower, but instead try to communicate unprotected with people in society who are not museum-goers.

Two prints from The Ring (2000).

A printmaker recently told me that the best way to tell if you are a printer at heart is to check whether you have engraved the image backwards in order for it to read properly while printed, which is the case in all of your monumental projects. Do you consider yourself a printer?

I consider myself an artist and not a printer. An artist using installation, sculpture, drawing, video, photo, graphics and printing... and in the future maybe something else. But not only printers are able to mirror their images or texts- this sounds strange to me. Until now I have realized only two projects using printing and carving, and only after ten years, I am about to come back to it with a third project: a cut into a lino-like PVC flooring.

Thomas Kilpper, State of Control, 2009. Linocut on fabric.

Since the beginning, prints have been instrumental in social and political struggles, helping carry the message to many. Do you regard your work as drawing on the tradition of the politically–engaged print?

Of course I am in touch with this tradition and I can see a line to my floor-carving and printing projects. Nevertheless, I consider my work to be rooted as well in installation and sculpture. There are probably several streams amalgamated in my work.

Preparation of the linoleum floors for carving and final installation view of State of Control at the former Ministry of State Security (Stasi), Berlin, 2009.

Can you speak about your recent project at the former offices of the infamous Stasi police?

It was the first time I made a large scale linocut. The carving and cutting is very different. The ones done on wood have been much harder- you need a beater or toggle to carve, and wood splits off when the chisel is hammered in; it calls more for hard black-and-white contrasts. Linoleum is less resistant and softer, but does not jump or split away. It lends itself better to create gray-tones and details.
The stark history of the building prompted a massive intervention: to take over and try to dominate such a place with your artwork is always a fascinating challenge.

Linocuts printed from the floors at the former Stasi building.

Interview: Christiane Baumgartner

Skyline, 2007. Woodcut on Kozo paper, 57 x 73 inches

Christiane Baumgartner has garnered international attention with her large-scale woodcuts which are done entirely by hand, and which often attain spectacular proportions. Transall (2002-04), one of the better-known works, is in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York, and was one of the highlights of their 2006 “Eye on Europe” exhibition (listen to an audio file of the artist talking about this particular work)

Transall, 2002. Woodcut on Kozo paper, 61 x 171 inches

Born and raised in Leipzig before the reunification, Baumgartner studied traditional printing techniques at the Hochschule für Grafik und Buchkunst. She earned a Master’s degree in Printmaking at the Royal College in London, and soon started to work in video. Coming back to Leipzig afterwords, she decided to merge two apparently incompatible mediums, video and woodcuts, effectively mixing two types of “cutting edge” technologies, that of the gouge and the computer. In her extremely labor-intensive works (a single print can take as much as a year to be completed), Baumgartner achieves a slowing down of process that imbues her haunting images with an aura of concentrated presence. It’s no wonder that her preferred subjects are speed, movement, and translation, literal or metaphorical.

This interview was done via email.

J. Roca.

Deutscher Wald, 2007. Woodcut on Kozo paper, 28 x 35 inches


Jose Roca: You were trained as a printer in several traditional techniques. What attracted you specifically to woodcut?

Christiane Baumgartner: I was attracted to woodcut based on a conceptual reason and not just on the love of the material. 10 years ago I was working nearly exclusively in digital media. This was the time I was studying at the Royal College of Art in London. When I went back to Leipzig it struck me how far I had come from the tradition I was born out of. I wanted to find a way to reconcile these two traditions.

Compared to nature, the digital system is a calculable system. Digital information provides the means by which to order and to simplify and enables the production of endless identical images in different mediums.

Woodcut is the earliest technique to reproduce an image. It is very simple and you don't need more then a sharp knife and a piece of wood -which could even be a kitchen board. And in a way, digital video is the quickest, latest, and most developed reproduction technique.

For me it seemed only logical to combine those two techniques. By creating woodcuts of digital video stills I simulate this standardized information by cutting a line grain by hand on a plate of wood. I am interested in the hand-made aspect in the work, with all its inaccuracies and mistakes. A further important aspect of the work is the relation between materiality and immateriality. The "original" image is one of several thousand digital images, not yet defined in size, color and frequency of the screen. Through my selection and transformation I create a unique woodcut.

JR: In video (at least before the advent of the digital format) the image is formed by parallel lines. When and how did you make the connection with xylography?

CB: Actually I did not use the existing monitor lines for my woodcuts, although many people do think this is the case. I created my own raster.
I was looking for a possibility, how to print a grayscale photograph just in two components, in black and white, and so I came to use the line grid.

JR: Oh, I did think that the images were based on the lines from video stills. Someone told me that you don’t use the usual tools to carve the boards, and that you make one line at a time in a continuous gesture. Can
you describe some technical aspects of your work?

CB: The actual creative part is the choosing of the image, size and frequency. This all happens on the computer. Until then the image exists only virtually. Then I transfer a computer print on to the wood plate.
The cutting process is more something like a meditation, where I am concentrated but still have my mind open. I use an old specially sharpened kitchen knife.

View of the artist's tools in her studio

Lisbon II, 2001. Woodcut on Kozo paper (see video)

JR: The depiction of movement and ways of communication seem to be a constant in your work: planes, windmills, roads, tunnels, or the walks you proposed in your artist book Detour; why this interest in velocity?

CB: I was reading Paul Virilio and thought about how we live in a time when things speed up so much. There is so much more movement in our physical lives than 20 years ago. But also the time of information and communication has sped up in an extreme way. Because we are expecting such quick responses to our communications we miss the time for the thinking process and also to really prioritize.

Installation view of Fahrt II, 2004. Series of 8 woodcuts on Kozo paper, 57 x 73 inches each

Windräder II, 2003. Woodcut on Kozo paper, 57 x 73 inches

JR: So your prints, which take a long time to make, effectively slow down time by extending the moment of the constitution of the image from a brief second (the video frame) to entire months…

CB: Yes, this is one aspect of my work.

Luftbild (ed: under consideration), 2008-2009, Woodcut on Kozo paper, 102.4 x 137.8 inches

JR: On one of your last prints, titled Luftbild, there is an interesting pattern that resembles a moiré effect...

CB: The moiré at Luftbild is in the work. It happened when I filmed the TV screen with the video camera and has to do with the interference of those two medias. Here some additional images, which show the proof-printing in two parts and the final print on one sheet of paper.

Interview: Orit Hofshi

Datum Collectanea, 2005. Installation view at the Herzliya Museum.

Last week I traveled to Israel to install an exhibition of Colombian artist Oscar Muñoz at the Herzliya Museum, which opened last Saturday. I took the opportunity to meet with Orit Hofshi, who, like Muñoz, will take part of Philagrafika 2010: The Graphic Unconscious. Orit Hofshi studied in Philadelphia at the Pennsylvania Academy of Art, and last year showed at the Print Center in Philadelphia. Hofshi works by hand on a very large scale, achieving monumentality while retaining an intimate quality in her prints. I had visited her last year in her studio near Tel Aviv where she was working on new woodcuts for an ongoing series, and what struck me most, knowing the scale of her prints in advance, was the tiny size of her working space (which was half-occupied by shelves of materials, prints, and books). This tension between grandeur and intimacy is, in my opinion, an important feature in her work, since her prints, which can be viewed from a great distance, have the ability to lure the viewer close to the surface, where their surface texture becomes apparent.

Hofshi works primarily in woodcut, a technique that has experienced a revival in contemporary printmaking in recent years; its atavic associations (woodcut is arguably the oldest of the printing techniques) contrast with the visual output of the technologically driven society we live in. Hofshi usually works in a fixed format, using standard-size sheets of pine from a builder’s supply store. She creates varied horizontal and vertical matrices with the panels, adding to or subtracting from the grid as she works on the image. Pine is soft but tends to have knots although the artist doesn’t see this as a drawback. Rather, she takes it as a positive condition of the material, and uses it to shape her compositions.

Once the matrices are carved, Hofshi inks the panels and lays Okawara paper down on them with utmost care so that the paper does not become soiled. Then she uses a wooden spoon to rub the back of the paper to pick up the ink. This technique allows her to control the intensity of the line in a process somewhat akin to painting or drawing. Sometimes she integrates the yet-to-be-printed matrix as part of the work, displaying the wooden boards adjacent to the prints.

This interview started via email and was completed with notes from conversations held in Tel Aviv and Herzliya, as well as excerpts from an article I wrote for Art on Paper magazine.

J. Roca.





Orit Hofshi in her studio, March 2009.

Jose Roca: Why did you choose xylography, one of the oldest printing techniques, as your primary medium of expression?

Orit Hofshi: As a woodcut artist I am drawn by the simplicity of process, a seemingly contradictory preference to the textual challenges I choose to confront in my work. A board, a knife, a brayer and ink make the art form possible. The self-reliance on the actual pressure of the hand, releases me from dependency upon the mechanics of the press. In fact, the directness and immediacy of the media lend to a clearer and more expressive creative process. I typically print very small editions (4-6), allowing the intensity and detailed process I feel necessary for each print produced.

Cutting and carving pine boards and printing on paper, is like experiencing a micro reality in itself. I am most conscious of the properties of my materials and their relationship. Particularly the inherent texture and patterns of the wood combined with the effects of the carving and sculpturing tools, all becoming an integral part of the woodcut’s message. I see woodcutting as a physical as well as an emotional challenge, enjoying the negotiating and testing of the board’s resistance to the sharp gouge plowing its path through a wooden earth... There is always the sense of wood, ink and paper, rigid and soft, not antithetical but merging together.

JR: Landscape appears prominently as the subject of your compositions, and so are isolated figures. Do you work from photographs of actual places and people, or are they imagined? Or both?

OH: Landscapes and at times figures are definitely a prominent subject in much of my work. There is the "technical" aspect in addressing this subject and there are the interpretation and subjective processes, which are driving motivations in my creative process. I spend a great deal of time in various natural settings and am attracted to extreme and rugged landscapes, taking numerous photographs, which nourish my thinking and processing in the studio. In such dramatic natural contexts I find an emphasized sense of evolution, time and struggles, not only as records of natural phenomenon but also as reflections of human history.

I was totally engulfed by the volcanic terrains in Iceland as an example. I think that for the most part, I am inspired by such natural topographies, as well as by my personal recollections and imagination, but I rarely look to depict any particular landscape. The following comment by Simon Schama in "Landscape and Memory", captures the essence of the complex conscious as well as subliminal feelings and thoughts evoked by nature, as part of my on going journey.

"There was, I knew, blood beneath the verdure and tombs in the deep glades of oak and fir. The fields, forests and rivers had seen war and terror, elation and desperation; death and resurrection […] It is a haunted land where greatcoat buttons from six generations of fallen soldiers can be discovered lying amidst the woodland ferns."


JR: How does working in such a politically charged environment like present-day Israel influence your practice?

OH: It is, in fact, very difficult to work in. The human condition has a constant presence in my work, whether actually depicted in the work and even if not. Preoccupied with the current and past socio political realities I do not rely only on my immediate experience or surroundings, but am obsessively aware of the broader human circumstances at a given time. I look constantly for images of people in daily newspapers as well as images from archives. Similarly to my processing of natural impressions, I do not focus on the literal content or meaning images. I am fascinated by expressions and disposition portrayed in images as a source of inspiration. My frequent depiction of isolated figures refers primarily to the notion people need to face challenges, as well as the consequences of their actions and decisions as individuals. This does not minimize in any way my deep sense of society as a most significant environment and context for the individual, as is referred to in my work. But despite the fact we are so affected by social and political contexts, the reality is that ultimately the individual needs to make decisions, balancing apparent practical and specific dispositions with more complex moral parameters; and become responsible for any outcome of such decisions.




JR: You showed me a sketch of the work you are planning to do for Philagrafika, and it involves creating a physical space for the viewer to enter. Had you worked tri-dimensionally before? Can you talk a bit about this new project?

OH: Tri-dimensionality and physical space have been present conceptually in my thinking and creative process for quite a while. In previous works I proposed monumental spaces conveyed to the viewer by large scale and size, while relying primarily on apparent two-dimensional formats. In this project I wish to create an actual tri-dimensional space formed by several elements which render a new physical presence. These elements will be the combination of materials and formats from diverse worlds, yet mutually-enriching, also manifesting the different stages and processes of print making and drawing: the work on paper, the use of wood, the manual aspects required, the attentiveness to the material's innate rhythm (textures, fragility, etc.).

I have gone through a gradual transition process from strictly two-dimensionality, exhibiting prints and drawings on paper and then adding carved wood panels, as well as framed and non-framed works. In fact, over the course of the years I had carried the sense that even panels, which I had used for prints, therefore darkly tinted by ink, embed significant content and statements, beyond their being just a phase in the printing process leading to the traditional final outcome, the print on paper.

The concept of acknowledging the process and recognizing the significance of its specific phases, fuels a broader motivation in this project. Sections of the work are set to be newly carved elements, but others, forming the tri –dimensional structure, will be comprised of panels which were the reliefs used for a print also included in the complete work. The viewer will be exposed to the print as well as its suggested "echo" or elusive mirror image, in the form of dark carved panels. Evolution of time, remnants and recorded natural or human footprints, which have been a focal point of much of my recent work, take more center stage also formalistically in this project.

I hope that the introduction of the structured space and the dialogue and sub context suggested by the elements rendering the work will stimulate motion and create varied observation points of view, enhancing the viewers' experience and insight.

Interview: Tromarama

Tromarama is a collective including Febie Babyrose (1985 Jakarta, Indonesia,) Herbert Hans Maruli (1984 Jakarta, Indonesia) and Ruddy Alexander Hatumena (1984, Bahrain). Formed in 2004 and based in Bandung and Jakarta, Tromarama has been interested in contemporary urban culture, inserting itself beyond the art scene into the larger cultural fabric of Bandung. I saw their work Serigala Militia (actually a music video for the thrash metal band Seringai) at the 2008 Singapore Biennial. I was captivated by the rawness of the image, a stop-motion animation where the actual process of the carving of the wooden boards is taken as a theme in itself, along with the inking of the boards, exposing the process of woodcut in all of its directness and materiality. Tromarama has since produced other videos in the same technique but not print-related, as well as several editioned multiples.

The following interview was done via email.

J. Roca.

Jose Roca: Why did you choose woodcut as the medium for the video Serigala Militia?

Tromarama: We felt that the woodcut medium suited best to represent the character and attitude of the band, and also the roughness of the music.

JR: Had you worked before with other printing techniques?

T: Nope, this is our first time combining printmaking technique with stop-motion animation.

JR: But you have done multiples and other editioned work, right? Why?

T: We hadn’t done any multiples and other editioned work before the Serigala Militia Video. Serigala Militia was our first video, and it was not a difficult choice for us to use a printmaking technique in it. We did the video while we are studying at Bandung Institute of Technology, Faculty of Visual Art and Design. Studying different majors, Febie was in the printmaking studio. Herbert studied visual communication design, focusing in advertising. Ruddy studied visual communication design, focusing in graphic design. Many printmaking techniques were a part of our daily life at campus. Even though we come from different majors, you just can’t separate graphic design and printmaking. Some people have said that graphic design is applied printmaking. You can’t separate graphic design history from Gutenberg, the father of mass-production printmaking. Printmaking had a big influence in our works not only visually but also in the number of editions for our videos, which are produced in a specific numbered edition -a common thing in printmaking.

JR: How would you describe the current local scene you work in?

T: We studied, live and work in Bandung, a small city full of Do-It-Yourself spirit. This ethos was triggered by the big economic crisis back in 1998. When everything got very expensive, people tried to produce things by themselves. There are many local bands trying to make their own CDs, and many independent record labels supporting the local music industry. Economic crisis drives creativity in this town. We can see the emergence of many local clothing companies, as a result of the crisis. When people can’t afford imported clothes and apparel, they try to produce their own. Bandung is a city well known by the creativity of its people. People here appreciate differences and are very open to all kind of new things happening. Maybe the existence of three art schools in Bandung helps people to be more welcoming with new, creativity-driven events. Video is already quite common in Indonesia as a new media in contemporary art. People can see video art in galleries and also at screenings initiated by art communities, whose intention is to introduce the video art itself to a larger public. Furthermore, this is a way for local artists can develop their art so that it can be enjoyed by many without decreasing the meaning of the work itself.

JR: You were recently invited to the Singapore Biennial. Where you able to establish ties with other artists of the region and beyond?

T: After the Biennale, we did not establish ties with artists from other countries, but some curators contacted us, asking about our work, and possibilities to show our work at their gallery (one of them is you). We are thankful to Pat Binder and Gerhard Haupt from universes-in-universe, for spreading our existence to the world.

JR: What are you planning to do for Philagrafika?

T: We plan to do a stop-motion animation with the etching technique, as well as showing our woodcut video and the whole installation. As with Serigala Militia, the video will also be displayed with all of the etching plates as an installation.

Letter from L.A.

Dear friends of Philagrafika:
For those of you in the West coast or planning to go there in the coming months, there is a wonderful exhibition at the Hammer Museum. Curated by Allegra Pesenti of the Grunewald center, the exhibition, titled Gouge: the modern Woodcut 1870 to Today traces the evolution of the woodcut as a distinct art form. From Gaugin's rediscovery in the late nineteenth century to the present day, so many artists are using it because, as I have written elsewhere, its atavic associations (being arguably the oldest of the printing techniques) contrast with the visual output of the technologically-driven society we live in.

The show includes wonderful works, some of them rarely seen. They range from one of the few Matisse's woodblock prints with the only known block (a strong sculptural presence that contrasts with the seeming lightness of the resulting line) to anonymous Indian printers from the 19th century. It also includes an impressive group of artists such as Vallotton, Munch, Nolde, Picasso, Kollvitz, Beuys, Baselitz, Kiefer and, more recent artists like Terry Winters, Christiane Baumgartner or Zarina Hashmi.

The exhibition is divided into themes that address issues like the re-emergence of the medium after it had fallen into oblivion due to the developments in etching; the presence of the grain of the wood as an important component of the work; sacred imagery, a section that brings together works from India, Korea, and a series of German expressionist woodcuts; and the role of woodblock printing -accessible to anyone with a carving tool and a sheet of wood- in social struggles. Indeed, one of the most striking pieces is Carmelo González-Iglesias' The Pseudo-republic and the Revolution, an enormous seven-block woodcut done in 1960 in the wake of the Cuban revolution.



One of the most beautiful pieces is Artemio Rodríguez' The Triumph of Death, inspired equally by Brueghel's work as for Mexican calavera woodcuts. Rodríguez, who did the linocuts for Juan Devis' award-winning online video game Tropical America (www.tropicalamerica.com) has a project called Graficomovil, which is, in his own words, "a traveling mural, a mobile cinema, gallery and print studio dedicated to promoting the graphic arts and independent filmmaking". Rodríguez's activist attitude is an example of the only thing lacking in the exhibition, namely the current activist woodcut scene better exemplified in collectives like Cannonball Press or Drive By Press and artists like Swoon. One could imagine a lively room filled with these strong works and their creators staging interactions with the public, but it would have certainly required a far bigger space and maybe would have offset the grave tone that this wonderful and tightly curated show has.

Jose.

Post from José Roca: Philagrafika trip to Brazil

José Roca, the Artistic Director for Philagrafika is going to begin a series of posts from his curatorial travel to South America and Asia. This travel was funded by a grant by the Warhol Foundation.

Dear friends of Philagrafika:
In Brazil I installed a small show in which I had been working for more than two years, and that was finally realized this past month. There is more information on the website(http://www.nararoesler.com.br/exposicoes/otras-floras)





It is a reconsideration of the scientific traveler, and the relationships between botanics and politics, and includes older artists such as Arnulf Rainer, Mark Dion, Roxy Paine, Jan Fabre and Maria Fernanda Cardoso. There are also younger artists like Jaime Tarazona and Miler Lagos, whom we have invited to participate in Philagrafika 2010. Miler created an 8-foot tall tree made of stacked newspapers, which he then carves to create the sculpture. I am enclosing some photos of the installation.



The Pinacoteca do Estado de Sao Paulo, has a beautiful show of Maria Bonomi, a highly respected artist here in Brazil who has worked in xylography (spanish for woodcut) since the sixties. I also visited Regina Silveira's exhibition at Brito Cimino, and later her studio (http://www.britocimino.com.br/en-exposicoes-presente.html). The show looks amazing, and has everything to do with our ideas for the festival in Philadelphia in 2010. I am also enclosing photos. The current show is about the biblical plagues; some of them are all types of bugs, that were gleaned from old engravings and illustrations and either blown up and rendered in plotter-cut vinyl, or screen-printed on decals that were then applied to white china (for the table service visible on one of the images).


For those of you that might not be so familiar with her work, since the seventies, Regina has been working in alternative forms of printing, using toner in lithographic stones, distributing flyers, applying screen-printed decals on various three-dimensional surfaces, and eventually taking this work to the public sphere by intervening façades of buildings. I did a survey show of her work last year at my (ex) museum in Bogotá.

The opening of the Bienal de Sao Paulo was a success. As the curators Ivo Mesquita and Ana Paula Cohen (whom I invited last year to co-curate the Encuentro de Medellín) chose to discuss the ideas associated with the void, the space looks, well, empty.

Prior to curating this show, I first saw this space completely empty when I met with my fellow co-curators in 2005. Yet, it’s breathtaking to see this immense building with hardly any works of art installed as part of a curated statement.



Here’s a link to the curatorial statement:

http://bienalsaopaulo.globo.com/english/fundacao/noticias/noticias_evento.asp?IDNoticia=154

There are works, of course, but most of them are almost imperceptible, since they either reflect on emptiness of the space or on the idea of the archive. One of Ivo’s ideas was to use this biennial as a think-tank to reconsider Biennials and “Biennalism”, so there is a large archive with catalogs of all the past and current biennials, triennials, quadriennials, etc, and many artists working on personal or public archives.

There is a very beautiful work by Dora Longo Bahía. She has been an artist concerned with counter-culture in Brazilian poorer neighborhoods, especially the alternative rock scene in Brazil.

She has done several works where she sets up a radio station in the gallery.She is also a painter, and calls her large-scale paintings “scalps”, as they seem something that has been pulled off with force and scarred, a bloodied trophy of sorts.

For the Bienal she covered the whole floor of the third level (more than 12.000 square feet) in screen-printed self-adhesive tiles, which will be walked upon by visitors, slowly revealing the red paint underneath and in doing so, mapping the various patterns and intensities of the circulation of the visitors of the exhibition.





Another project that interested me was Erick Beltrán’s “The World Explained”, an encyclopedia that is done in real time with the definitions provided by the public. I worked with Erick in San Juan and Medellín, and each time he pushes his ongoing project of mapping the way thought functions, a little further. For the Bienal he set up a sort of edition house in real time, with tables where people write their definitions, his assistants transcribe them, a designer does the mise-en-page, and the page is immediately printed on an offset press. By the end of the Bienal we will have a 200-page encyclopedia. On the third floor of the Bienal there is a structure that tries to represent visually and spatially the processes of thought.



At the Pinacoteca I saw Spanish artist Cristina Iglesias’ show. It was a series of large-scale installations; models of site-specific projects and public art commissions; and some interesting printed works related to the installations. There was a labyrinthine installation done with tresses made with braided wire, and a very beautiful suite of prints based on photographs of this installation. The technique was described to me as this: she takes photographs of the installations, which she prints digitally on a metal plate and etches, then reworks directly on the plate with drypoint.


There were also two large-scale screen prints on copper plates done from images of the models for her installations.



More to come.
Jose.