Recent curatorial endeavors in contemporary Latin American art
exhibited in North American/European circuits have unwittingly
perpetuated that which they previously contested. Whereas at one
time exhibitions like The Art of the Fantastic were critiqued for
their curatorial one-dimensionality that decontextualized Latin
American art of its social, political, and historical specificity,
the pendulum has swung the other way in producing curatorial
discourse that diminishes heterogeneity in excluding artistic
practice that is not focused mainly on European and North American
trends. A healthy, vibrant, and much needed resistance to this
discourse can be seen in the work of Javier Tellez. This work is a
confluence of divergent aesthetic influences that addresses social,
political, and personal concerns, and through its poetic and at
time visceral beauty, it becomes tantamount to a hand grenade
wrapped in velvet.
Tellez’s recent installation entitled “Penalty” exhibited last
spring at the Silverstein Gallery in New York, incorporated a
diversity of media that addressed a multiplicity of issues. Upon
entering the installation one was immediately drawn into the work
through the counterpoint of formal elements: hung on the four walls
of the gallery were photographs and a soccer referee’s shirt with
a Rolling Stones logo and placed underneath it was a pair of
referee flags. Juxtaposed with this encompassing planar schema of
photographs, shirt and flags was the three-dimensionality of the
central installation consisting of two regulation soccer posts with
socks that hung from their nets, and between the posts was a small
mattress covered with a “sheet” that was stitched to simulate a
soccer field. Placed on top and in the center of the “soccer field”
was a cactus in a planter.
The photographs, which are a formal tour de force in
themselves, were at times pastoral but more often depicted the
brutal conditions of the infamous Tocuyito Prison in Venezuela.
Printed across the photographs were texts appropriated from
official sources dissimilar in typography. This appropriation
immediately set up a tension that was formal as well as contextual.
Foregrounding the ideological nature of sign systems, the different
typographies of the photographs were juxtaposed so that they seemed
to emanate from socially varied locations. Semiotically, script can
convey ideology since its history and utilization are associated
with particular classes or sociocultural practices. Taking these
subtle dynamics into consideration, Tellez appropriated an official
Venezuelan tourist slogan and placed it on the sides of the
photographs. The slogan printed in bold color announced: “VENEZUELA
The best kept secret in the Caribbean.” Opposite this text was
another in “journalistic” or “neutral” typography that stated: “The
Penitentiary of Tocuyito, Carabobo state.”
Typographical interplay was compounded by the disjunction
between text and image. The photographs were postcards via their
slogans, and through their more “neutral” typography were also
archival documents of surveillance that recorded activities within
the prison. Phenemenological slippage between the description and
classification of the photographs as “objective” documents and
“fictional” narratives allowed them to oscillate freely between
what Roland Barthes calls the studium and punctum.
The studium, according to Barthes, gives “photographs an
average affect” and while it allows one to enter into the pictorial
field “culturally” and “participate in the figures, the faces, the
gestures, the settings, the actions...the studium is [also] that
very wide field of unconcerned desire, of various interest, of
inconsequential taste.” In contrast to the studium is the
punctum, which intervenes, ruptures, breaks, and punctures the image. The punctum is not directly perceived in the tableau but “rises from the scene, shoots out like an arrow and pierces [the
viewer].”
The photographs in Tellez’s installation encapsulated the
studium and punctum to a heightened degree and hinted at the
polysemy in the work’s narrative. One image showed the exterior of
the prison which at first glance became an aestheticized landscape
in somber tones of grays and blues of almost “inconsequential
taste.” The studium was opaque as the image conveyed a sense of the
epic and panoramic through the minimalist horizontality of gridded
buildings that were visually counterpointed by the verticality of
the guard's tower. What disrupted the idyllic tableau vis-a-vis the
punctum was the realization of the tower as a symbol of repression
and surveillance. Surveillance and the institutional power behind
it were addressed in another photograph by implicating the viewer
through the complicity of the gaze.
In a faux portrait setting within the photograph, prisoners in
soccer garb and huddled together as a team stared back at the
viewer as mediators between the gaze of the viewer and that of the
surveillance tower. Tellez troped the relationship between subject
and object via the typography by jarring the viewer’s conscience
and social acquiescence through an either/or dichotomy. Through the
veneer of the postcard, the huddled individuals were viewed as
persons with a nonthreatening and almost inviting demeanor. Through
the typography that designates them as prisoners, the viewer’s
socialization reflexively marginalized them as pariahs creating an
internal conflict via a Dostoevskian conundrum and punctum par
excellence: the prisoner's obvious humanity stealthily resonated
with that of the viewer’s and subsequently interrogated the
latter’s notion of morality, crime and punishment. It was as if for
once the jurors became executioners and consequently their actions,
integrity and conscience were called into question.
Another critique of judicial process, however this time within
a north/south context, was addressed in a poignant yet seemingly
parodic manner through the referee’s shirt with a Rolling Stones
logo. Like the corpus of Tellez’s work, the critique was freighted
with multiple interpetations for it questioned the cultural as well
as judicial since cultural identity was referenced vis-a-vis the
symbol of a British rock band. By using the logo, Tellez inverted
the Brazilian writer Oswald de Andrade’s concept of anthropophagy.
In the Anthropophagy Manifesto of 1928, Andrade rallies for
“The daily love and the capitalist modus vivendi. Anthropophagy.
Absorption of the sacred enemy...in order to transform the taboo
into totem.” Andrade’s anthropophagy or “cannibalization”
attempted to reconcile European influences with his own cultural
milieu in order to forge an authentic modern Brazilian voice that
would not only retain its uniqueness, but in its syncretic
Modernity, engage itself in and contribute to the burgeoning
Modernist international.
In the installation, the consumption of Western culture and
its hybridization was less potentially liberatory. Instead it was
associated more with the normative in its perpetuation of the
status quo symbolized in the referee’s shirt and logo and its
alignment with institutional power. In referencing this power, its
discourse and circuits, and in addressing the subsumation of one
culture by another, the referee’s shirt became a sort of palimpsest
of north/south and institutional/prisoner dynamics. For the referee
is not only the mediator of “order” in the soccer game that is
played by the prisoners for “rehabilitation” purposes. But through
the logo it is also an embodiment of external cultural encroachment
and of subtle institutional power that is interchangeable with the
installation’s other images of authority and repression: the
guard's tower, barbed wire fencing, rooms for solitary confinement,
a hole in the floor evincing a failed escape...that alluded to a
void or abyss of hopelessness. Yet, for Tellez to convey fully the
desolation, alienation, and fragmentation that is the experiential
lowest common denominator in the incarceration labyrinth, he evoked
the prisoner’s presence through their absence.
Absent presence unified and cohered the surrounding
photographs and objects with the central part of the installation:
the soccer posts and mattress. Although Tellez reiterated the
north/south binary, he collapsed it by paralleling the socially
marginal within North America and Venezuela through the urban
vernacular.
In low income minority urban centers in the U.S. victims of
violence are memorialized by having their sneakers hung by their
shoe strings in trees, on fences around basketball courts, and over
telephone lines. Tellez poetically referenced this urban phenomenon
in the installation while allowing it to resonate with multiple
meanings. The suspended socks became the symbolic counterpart to
the sneakers and not only were they indices of social milieux that
generate such vernacular practices, but they reverted back to the
narrative of the prisoners as soccer players who, in transgressing
the rules of the game (and society), are in a perpetual state of
Penalty. Social and psychological displacement was further
referenced by the mattress with a sheet that served as the “soccer
field” in which the game--or desire--is played out under the
vigilance of guards, wardens, the incarceration apparatus, and the
larger Venezuelan sociopolitical machinery.
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