The Chatter of the Cyclops
When power wants to rise as a totalitarian power, the pretension includes language. Under this type of ideological domination, language is rarefied and some of its particular traits atrophied: the prerogative to name the world, the ability to unveil truth. Language certainly becomes a prisoner, obscured and domesticated under the interests of power.
For something to be art, it must meet certain conditions. One of them is that it not be real; it must be fiction, discourse. Artists use images that are not entirely familiar. Something stands out and points out that this object is trying to mean something, to say, to offer a constructed sensory experience. Its existence is possible only through the transcendence of instinct, and in the affirmation of the individual as autonomy.
Temporada de Mangos
TEMPORADA DE MANGOS – JOSÉ OSTOS FOR BACKROOM CARACAS ON VIMEO. Recorded over several months during his daily commute and with a small camera, this video essay by Venezuelan filmmaker José Ostos is a look at the symbolic fabric of the city of Caracas. From its prose poetry narration, its degraded image, its panoramic views, | … |
A look at Monstruos #1, a fanzine published in February 2014 in Madrid. Participants: Enrique Ventosa, Rebecca Hourdaki, Jorge Frigenti, Eugenio Fernández, Paula Currás, Ana Olmedo, Alvaro Carrillo, Fernando Cremades, Carlos Ramírez Pantanella.
Venezuelan Suite (or Reading Paul Desenne)
Because we are almost ghosts, we composers appreciate apparitions; their sincerity is absolute. P.D. I God is an uncontrollable noise. For others, God is silence. But here we are going to talk about Paul. Music recreates prejudice and at the same time devices for survival and for self-destruction, where flesh, innocence, and anguish | … |
Something Is Happening
El Helicoide, May 18, 2016. Luis Theis has been imprisoned inside the beast of concrete and rebars that sits on top of Roca Tarpeya, hoping to awaken from a modernity that never came. Torture, rapes, and disappearances sleep together in a place where drugs and prostitution have been guests already. This time, the monster temporarily houses, like a terrifying hotel, the detainees from the march held in Caracas in support of the recall referendum convened by the opposing Mesa de la Unidad Democrática (MUD), which after a strong intervention from the Bolivarian National Police (PNB) and the appearance of the Bolivarian National Intelligence Service (SEBIN), resulted in 44 detainees nationwide (14 of them in Caracas).
What if We Stop Thinking About It?
(Notes for an autoethnography) I saw the show on Venezolana de Televisión  dedicated to emigration in our country. As I watched, I couldn’t help remembering the child I was on February 4, 1992 , with my chewed and well-thumbed Pictorial Atlas of the World, trying to imagine how Rome or Atacama could even exist. | … |
MAC with Igor Barreto
The idea starts from the oeuvre, or rather from the assumption that the work of art can stir up things inside. But given that not every work of art produces something in anyone, one must inquire, feel, expose eye and body; submit to the experience of the senses and to chance as well. The | … |
Imminent + Poetics ≠ Relational + Politics
As in any first-degree equation, we must clear the variable, in this case, the artistic scene (X), which, ever capricious and brutal, behaves like an electron: it appears and disappears, visibilizing and invisibilizing the peripheral or nuclear elements that it sometimes orbits and sometimes doesn’t.
Lamezuela: An Untimely Sign and the Cry of Heretics
Lamezuela, a sign that arises from and accounts for the malaise, the defect, and the ingrown spine of our time. A sign that has “become an iconic image of the moment we are living as a country”; an untimely sign that impacts and collides – with all its implications – with the cultural and historical perception of our time.
Madrid, Between The Milky Way and the Cloud: The Adorable Grotesque
Recounting a trip you returned from some time ago is no piece of cake. There is always a sort of slip of the head, as if the past had slid down the shower drain, as if “returning” was a haircut with memory at the tips. This is why sometimes keeping a journal is an advantage, or if none exists, having been more or less consistent with the uploading of photos and thoughts to cyberspace—this dematerialized place we so inhabit—could also work. There we can search for what was said and seen—to avoid repetition or to invoke it—: to live up in the clouds.