Centro Cultural Recoleta

Saturday afternoon, along with my wife, we visited the Centro Cultural Recoleta. We entered by climbing the staircase located near Pueyrredón Ave., meaning we did the tour in reverse, yet we didn't miss any of the exhibited displays.

There weren't many people walking around; along with us, a couple of tourists who looked like foreigners entered, taking photos of literally everything—even the doors—and there were barely three or four other people walking around.

The first photo corresponds to a common pigeon (Columba livia domestica), one of the many in the city, resting on the head of one of the statues that decorate the Cultural Center.

The afternoon was somewhat cloudy, not overly so, and a light breeze blew that at times picked up strength and then returned to the tranquility of barely moving the air.

We walked in and came across a room, Room 10, where a bunch of wood pieces were arranged in what seemed to form a ring; you entered, and the door opened directly onto one side of the artwork. When walking toward one of the ends, you could see it from another perspective, and what appeared there was a sort of tunnel made of wood.

The artwork, titled "Giro Triangular" (Triangular Twist), belongs to the artist Luis Terán. He discusses it himself in a 5-minute video published at http://vimeo.com/114990985 where he begins by saying: "The sculpture 'Giro Triangular' is a large-scale sculpture that takes the dimensions of the room and occupies almost its maximum size."

In a contemporary art magazine called “El gran otro”, they published an article featuring an interview with artist Luis Terán. It was titled “Monumento a la basura” (Monument to Garbage) and was authored by Hernán Ruiz. You can read it at this link: http://elgranotro.com.ar/index.php/monumento-a-la-basura/. The interview was conducted before the exhibition at the Centro Cultural Recoleta took place, but even back then he referred to the piece as: "Now I am going to make this piece—but in a more giant size—on November 15th at the Centro Cultural Recoleta, as part of a tour of some pieces from the Venice Biennale with a local guest, which in this case is me. I am going to assemble this piece which takes over 1,200 meters of wood, involving teamwork that I really enjoy. These pieces are like a kind of constructive challenge."

The exhibition in Room 10 opened on November 13 and closes on February 8 of the current year.

In the next photograph, you can see what was indicated on the room's wall, which reads: "Giro Triangular. The creation of Luis Terán introduces us into a game of lines, points, angles, and more angles. A playful experience that refers to a geometric world, a structure under construction.

Like a star in motion, the sequence of equilateral triangles revolving around the same axis induces us into a fantasy of lights and shadows that intermingle as one walks through the room where the artwork—unable to be viewed from a distance to take it in as a whole—forces us to rethink the always tense relationships between space, matter, and voids.

The framing of our gaze and the sensation of something that exceeds us lead us to experience the part for the whole, to go from the particular to the general, according to the place we choose to occupy. The artwork is a single figure and at the same time several figures that advance and retreat, like a progressive perspective flight, full of depth and volume.

With Giro Triangular, Terán captivates us with a whirlwind built from simple materials such as wood and wire, of light, of air, which together form a constantly expanding matrix.

Curator: Gabriela Urtiaga.Curatorial assistance: Belén Bauzá.”

What struck me when reading the text was that what was written seemed much more interesting than the artwork itself; you read that and it feels like stepping into a science fiction story, but then you observe the piece and it doesn't seem to match—at least to me, it was only fun for taking pictures.

Then we continued our tour and moved on to another room, Room 4. Here there was a photographic exhibition. It had opened on December 10 and closes on February 8 of the current year. The exhibition is titled “El amante de Buenos Aires” (The Lover of Buenos Aires) and the author is Claudio Larrea.

The author's webpage is http://www.claudiolarrea.com/

Regarding the exhibition, the CCR website states: "The exhibition is a photographic record of the city of Buenos Aires through the eyes of a lover who forgives imperfection and highlights harmony. Aboard an old bicycle, the lover travels the paths of a city he remembers as beautiful and continues to love." And it adds: "In early 2010, upon returning to Buenos Aires, he began conducting a photographic survey of the city in a project called 'El Amante de Buenos Aires'."

The photographs are mostly—I would say all of them—related to constructions, buildings, mostly architecture. It didn't strike me as groundbreaking, but it was pleasant to view and quite interesting. Some of them show views that most inhabitants do not have the chance to see, or perhaps we will never get to see them, yet we enjoy them through the photograph taken by this author. Many are of common places, but their colors, lines, and perspectives made them different.

The exhibition was accompanied by an introductory text titled “Del amor y la fugacidad” (Of Love and Transience) written by Eduardo Villar. He introduces it like this: "That's how lovers are; they see beauty where others see flaws or decrepitude," and later adds: "Larrea goes out almost daily on his bicycle to wander the streets."

What follows caught my attention: in the presentation of the exhibition, Villar writes: "But above all, he brings his gaze. It is that gaze which allows him to see what is in plain sight for everyone, but which no one sees until his photos reveal it. A swan on a staircase, a lighthouse between two party walls, Larrea's photos always reveal something new in emblematic buildings, some monumental, architectural icons of a certain moment in Buenos Aires, extraordinary domes, imposing structures, grand banks and libraries. But also plebeian buildings and lobbies lost in any neighborhood."

Now looking online, I see that many of the photographs the author exhibited as “El amante de Buenos Aires” were previously used in other exhibitions. For example, in an exhibition called “Lobbies de Buenos Aires” (which records lobbies of Buenos Aires from the 1930s to the 1950s) there were photos that are included in this CCR exhibition. Here is the link: http://www.galeriaartexarte.com/expo68.html.

Also, a year ago, an article titled “Claudio Larrea: el fotógrafo 'flaneur'” written by Martin Volman, reports on an exhibition called “Arquitectura peronista” (Peronist Architecture) which also featured photographs exhibited here at the CCR. Here is the link: http://jaquealarte.com/2013/11/12/claudio-larrea-el-fotografo-flaneur/

The word “flâneur” caught my attention since I didn't know it, and it also appears in the introductory text of the exhibition written by Villar when he says: "this survey of a Porteño flâneur." I checked the RAE (Royal Spanish Academy) dictionary and got the following result: "The word Flâneur is not registered in the Dictionary." So I continued with Wikipedia, and there it does say something at the following link http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fl%C3%A2neur: "The term flâneur (/n/ flɑnœʀ) comes from French and means 'walker', 'stroller'. The word flânerie ('strolling', 'wandering') refers to the activity proper to the flâneur: wandering the streets, strolling aimlessly, without a goal, open to all the vicissitudes and impressions that cross his path."

We moved on to Room 7, where there was an exhibition that opened on December 10 and closes on February 8 of the current year, as indicated by a promotional card advertising the exhibit. It features a collection of paintings by artist Marcella Casal. The exhibition is titled “Silencio” (Silence).

The CCR website introduces it as follows: "The exhibition is based on the development of a series of paintings that explore the visibility of silence."

Among the exhibited paintings, executed with acrylic paint on stretched canvas, there was a work that, as I can see on the author's public Facebook page, is titled “Oeste” (West), which is a diptych and was awarded the 1st Prize of the University of Belgrano for Artistic Creation https://es-es.facebook.com/pages/Marcella-Casal-Pinturas/

“The visibility of silence”. From my perspective, they were just abstract paintings; I only saw lines, colors, points, and figures resembling triangles, but nothing more. However, it supposedly dealt with the "visibility of silence," so my personal questions were and are: How do you represent silence? Silence is defined as the absence of sound; through a sound medium (cinema, radio, theater) it is easy to represent, but in painting? It could be the absence of "something," of shapes, colors, or stripes, and even then it remains insufficient. It could be a pictogram representing an abstract reality, such as communication where the presence of silence is signaled or implied, it could be under the imperative of an order through a sign, etc. It could be drawn or attempted through an oxymoron; there are several examples of oxymorons with the word "silencio." A painting incorporating two opposite expressions, I think, would make it easier, and yet I don't know if it's possible—at least I didn't see any. For example, I read online about a feature film (called Musica Ocular) made entirely in sign language performed by deaf-mute people with the purpose of visually representing silence. But a movie with movement is not the same as a painting where, in principle, the medium is fixed, even though some form of movement can later be recreated within what is captured. To talk about silence, we can search for concepts in spirituality, science, philosophy, psychology, or law. In all those paths we will find different concepts related to silence, but I doubt any of them can truly account for how silence is visualized.

We moved on to Room 6, where there was an exhibition that started on December 10 and closes on February 8 of the current year. It is an exhibition called “Árbol Urbano” (Urban Tree) by visual artist Mónica Galeotti. The artist's idea for this exhibition is "on the theme of green-nature-oxygen-life," an ecological theme that has been trendy lately—at least for the last two decades—gaining more and more followers while manifesting in the most varied forms. This is one of the many, expressed through art.

The artist has her website at http://monicagaleotti.wix.com/arte

The first thing we noticed was that the room was, so to speak, divided into two parts: on one side, a collection of framed pictures hung for exhibition on the walls of the room; and at one end of the room, a constructed installation. Now, this installation was primarily composed of two parallel taut threads from which hung a tangle of green yarn, which apparently consisted of one or two well-tangled skeins of yarn thrown over the threads, mixed together, and left to hang in some places closer together and in others further apart. Whether "that" serves to "raise awareness," I don't know; I only saw the misuse of a resource like yarn, wasted. In the back corner, two or three small-sized tree trunks along with some branches, all placed vertically. And closer by, right beneath the tangled mass of mixed yarn, two pots with two small plants—they had no information whatsoever, and I don't know if they were two growing saplings.

On the other side of the installation, from a square platform installed on the ceiling, hung threads of green yarn, and this time, making good use of the yarn, there were knitted leaves—possibly crocheted—quite a few leaves as seen in the photograph, and on each leaf a little piece of paper. I don't remember what it said; I believe it was one or more names per leaf.

The CCR webpage, referring to this work, states: "It captures in an entertaining and creative way the importance of greenery within the city, which results in a better quality of life. The tree itself symbolizes life, being part of our landscape and forming a scenic and cultural heritage."

One could make a connection with sprouts, leaves, names, and find "life" there, but I don't know—it didn't quite click for me, and as for the rest, I saw no point to it. They had placed a video projected onto the floor where the artwork was apparently being discussed; we didn't watch the video and continued touring the exhibition. It felt to me like creativity fell short. This entire installation together felt rather simplistic, making it hard to see the proposed theme of "green-nature-oxygen-life"—let's say the green was noticeable, but the rest? I didn't see it.

The rest of the exhibition consisted of several works, mostly collages, where the figure of the tree did not go unnoticed. Regarding this, the CCR webpage states: "Works in very varied techniques are exhibited, using discarded materials found on the street or in public squares, with the aim of generating less waste. A large part of the installation was made by reusing disused elements, which in this case became artwork." And on the room's wall it was written: "Discarded materials or materials found on the street or in squares are used in the works with the aim, also, of generating less waste." This is going too far; she assumed the role of the now-called "urban collectors" (formerly simply "cartoneros" or cardboard pickers), gathering some waste for her artwork exhibited at the CCR with the purpose of leaving a message of "ecology and green responsibility." Ultimately, personally, I felt they were just collages.

In Room 8, an exhibition that started on December 10 and closes on February 1 of the current year, titled “Espacio Intangible” (Intangible Space) by artist Marcelo Hepp.

The CCR webpage states regarding this exhibition: "His sculptures embody the creative imprint he already announced in his 1970s drawings, also exhibited on this occasion. The exhibition places us in a space in motion." Indeed, on the room's walls there were frames containing drawings, all in black and white—I don't know if they were made with pencil, charcoal, or another medium. They didn't catch my attention as much as the sculptures, though upon seeing them without any information, they appeared to be drawings representing a heavy and difficult era of the country. Returning to the sculptures, if anything they conveyed, it was movement. Movement and reflection—in fact, reflection is what gave that life, that movement, and that spatial location to the figure.

There is an online article at the following link http://www.arte-online.net/Notas/Marcelo_Hepp titled “La dimensión fractal de sus esculturas” (The Fractal Dimension of His Sculptures) written by Alicia Estela Beltramini Zubiri, which refers to the author's same exhibition but displayed elsewhere, in a fine arts museum.

In the first photograph of this exhibition, you can see a sculpture in the foreground, a second sculpture behind it, part of the demonstration artwork (which I will comment on later), and on the back wall some of his drawings.

In this second photograph of the exhibition, we can see in the foreground a sculpture of a female figure reclining in water; behind it, you can catch a glimpse of the swimmers' work—if I remember correctly, it is the piece “Estilo mariposa” (Butterfly Stroke)—and on the other side, another work depicting a falling drop. There were two drops, but the second one cannot be seen. Of course, there were several more sculptures to enjoy.

The CCR webpage states: "Hepp projects the literal and perfect representation of a bicycle, a swimmer, or a frog in reflections that show them transfigured. This transformation makes his works immensely attractive: the stillness of the metal they were made from vibrates and merges into dynamic figures. In Butterfly Stroke, Blue Lagoon, and The Walker, the artist creates articulated volumes in multiple identities. Behind the beauty of these figures made of wrought iron, cast bronze, or resin, we find the consummate work of a tenacious sculptor."

And yes, I agree with this description; it seems appropriate to me. Overall, among what was available to see at the CCR, this particular exhibition was good. Although at times it seems redundant—copying and repeating an eye, a head, a shape two or three times, or playing with reflections—you still saw something volumetric with elaborate craftsmanship that suggested it was not simple. Perhaps it was, and I don't know, but it gave the impression of requiring time and labor. Now, the imagination wasn't very awakened; it fell into common tropes, except for some works like the demonstrators and the heads coming out of the window with little balloons that looked like chewing gum, perhaps meant to evoke apathy toward the demonstrators—at least that's what it seemed to me.

We moved on to Room 9, a small room featuring an exhibition that opened on December 10, titled “O Pássaro Observador” (The Observing Bird), an exhibition by artist Ileana Hochmann.

The presentation of the work on the CCR webpage says: "Described as serigraphs, Ileana Hochmann's works can provoke a certain surprise in the viewer. Suspended transparencies, embossed papers (simply crumpled and/or torn), bricks, clothespins, and magnifying glasses are some of the elements that make up the repertoire related to serigraphic technique. A serigraph that doesn't look like a serigraph..."

And it really was like that; I saw it and didn't know what it was about, nothing made sense. The figure of the bird, which was everywhere—what meaning did that have? I don't know, you can elaborate many speculations, and indeed people have formulated them to explain the exhibition, but nothing concrete. You saw a bird whose species you could guess, and it was observing—at least we know it wasn't a blind bird. What was it observing? Who knows, we only know that it "observed".

In the room there was an introduction to the artwork, pasted on the wall, written by Mercedes Casanegra (the same presenter on the CCR webpage), which traces a line running from the author's "nomadism" and culminating in the creation of a hieroglyphic seal from a bird, finalizing the work in the Recoleta exhibition.

That description felt like total raving; in fact, I found it more pleasant and amusing to read that—resembling a poetic blend with science fiction—than looking at the photos with wood and papers hanging from the "observing bird".

In the next room, Room 11, an exhibition titled “Forma, Unidad, Plan…” (Form, Unity, Plan…) by artist Isaac Zylberberg.

I will copy verbatim what the CCR webpage says since it is brief and concise: "Forma, Unidad, Plan… This is an exhibition of the artist's latest production, created during the period 2009–2013. The technique used in all the works consists of oils painted on vinyl paper (wallpaper rolls). Some of the works are cubist-style landscapes, with the majority of the work being abstract in character."

As seen in the image, there were distorted shapes, and you could see the unity in how they were all facing the same direction; none generated a rupture. And what about the plan? If the plan was to make all distorted shapes, then it was fulfilled. I think the presence of the ellipsis in the title makes a difference. Almost all were abstract, giving the sensation in many cases of deformed expensive figures and the presence of eyes, or at least they looked like that. There were abundant colors and not much else.

Next, I will talk about a photographic exhibition located on the wall along the hallway connecting the different rooms of the Centro Cultural Recoleta.

The exhibition was called “Transparencia 2014” (Transparency 2014). It opened on November 13, 2014, and closes on February 1, 2015.

The sign presenting the exhibition stated verbatim: "The photographic exhibition Transparency is an initiative of the Undersecretariat of Human Rights and Cultural Pluralism. Its objective is to portray the mosaic of identities of the City of Buenos Aires and to account for the active contribution of communities in the Porteño cultural fabric. With that motto and under the slogan 'Portray the diverse, celebrate the multiple', the 34 photographs that make up this exhibition were selected."

And the presentation of the exhibition on the CCR webpage, after indicating that it is the 7th edition of this contest, adds: "The General Directorate of Communities called for the contest aimed at visual artists and artistic photography amateurs. The objective of the contest is to capture images portraying the concept of Buenos Aires as a mosaic of identities forged by immigrant traditions and reinforced since the return of democracy through respect for individual liberties."

I must say that I really liked these photographs, perhaps because they were realistic, diverse works that effectively showed mostly people in traditional costumes representing their origins or traditions that they still preserve, inherited from their ancestors. However, many of these photographs were taken at festivals, dances, shows, fairs—that is, particular occasions and events; they didn't show the day-to-day life of each identity, which is perhaps harder to represent. But the point is that the exhibition was good to observe, and I also wanted to focus on the theme mentioned in both presentations of the exhibition as a "mosaic of identities." Incidentally, loosely speaking, it is a relatively recent concept from recent years, coming to replace the previously widespread concept still used by the general public: "crisol de razas" (melting pot). "Melting pot" alluded to a set of races merging to give rise to a single national unity. It is a concept with many years behind it when the word "race" was considered differently than it is today; even the idea of a single unity arising from several is no longer viewed that way. Instead, the current concept is "mosaic of identities," which alludes to a social group made up of various identities; mosaic speaks of diversity.

To understand the idea of a "melting pot" and contrast it with that of a "mosaic," I will first copy an excerpt that explains the idea of a "melting pot" well from the book titled “La Nación y sus Otros: raza, etnicidad y diversidad religiosa en tiempos de Políticas de la Identidad” by author Rita Laura Segato.

"By contrasting the Brazilian case with the Argentine one, facets of the whitening issue emerge that would remain hidden if we looked at Brazil or Argentina in isolation. In both countries, the elite project was Europeanizing, or in other words, the elites—committed to producing a rhetoric of identity—coincided in their interest in constructing a profile for the Nation in which, regardless of the variety of ingredients incorporated, the final stamp bore the mark of European presence.

The image chosen by politicians, historians, and men of letters in Argentina to speak of ethnic mixing in the country was the image of the 'melting pot' (crisol). Argentina was—and continues to be—described in school and podium discourse as a 'melting pot of races'. This image approaches the 'anthropophagic' civilization chosen by Oswald de Andrade to describe Brazil. In both, there is an active ingestion of diverse elements to give rise to a unique product. The melting pot consumes materials and fuses them into alloys whose primary components are lost, sacrificed in the production of something different. In Argentina, particularly, there was a clear predominance of the European white pattern, and of formal and informal strategies to extinguish any trace of internal heterogeneity, whether in the form of different accents from Spaniards, Italians, and Jews, or provincial behaviors with some pre-Hispanic mark. Everything had to conform to a single model, working in the melting pot without leaving vestiges of the materials used in the smelting." (Pages 258, 259; 2007 Edition, Prometeo Editorial).

As I indicated before, today people speak of a "mosaic of identities," at least within the scope of the City of Buenos Aires.

To reflect what the concept of a "mosaic of identities" or "mosaic of communities" is all about, I refer to a City Government program aimed at showing that Argentina's true identity is its diversity and the contribution made by each of the ethnic groups comprising it.

For example, in the text “Historias Curiosas de Templos de Buenos Aires” compiled by Marcos Gabriel, it says: "The City of Buenos Aires is a mosaic of identities. As a product of the immigration currents that arrived in our country in the mid-19th century, immigrants came to our port bringing their history and also their faith." (Page 10. Prologue.)

What is Argentina, Mosaic of Identities? "Created by the National Secretariat of Tourism based on the conviction that Argentina's true identity is diversity, the objective of the Argentina Mosaic of Identities program is to strengthen, preserve, and develop the country's cultural, ethnic, and religious heritage." Article from La Nación newspaper, 2001, titled “Tras las huellas de los gauchos judíos” (Tracing the Footsteps of Jewish Gauchos). Available at http://www.lanacion.com.ar/212440-tras-las-huellas-de-los-gauchos-judios

In another text titled “Algunas tendencias del turismo cultural en la Argentina. El patrimonio 'olvidado' como recurso turístico” by author Claudia Toselli (Bachelor in Tourism), it states: "The arrival of the first settlers to Argentina was rescued through the 'Argentina Mosaic of Identities' program, whose objective was to strengthen, preserve, and develop Argentina's cultural, ethnic, and religious heritage. Under the criterion of 'think global, act local', it proposed generating strategies to develop and boost the particularities of each place. To this end, new sustainable products were created, understanding that these sites could constitute a true alternative through cultural tourism." (Page 5) available online at http://www.usal.edu.ar/archivos/imae/otros/a_ocio-08.pdf (Article published in the online magazine Travelturisme, 2004).

Currently, on the City Government webpage, at the following link http://www.buenosaires.gob.ar/derechoshumanos/colectividades/observatoriocolectividades, we have the "Observatory of Communities. Buenos Aires, mosaic of identities.""We define the City of Buenos Aires as a mosaic of identities; a city that offers multiple ways of being experienced, a city that beats and vibrates to the rhythm of thousands of sounds that make up its melody."

And finally, the link http://www.buenosaires.gob.ar/derechoshumanos/observatorio takes us to the "Observatory of Communities." "An 'observatory' is known as a social science data collection method consisting of systematizing, organizing, and analyzing different types of information within categories.The Observatory of Communities is the result of extensive work whose objective is to reveal the histories and the cultural, social, and institutional contributions of the various migratory waves that arrived in the city."

Then we reached a room that, instead of being numbered, had a name: Sala Prometeus. It has a sign reading the following: "Buenos Aires, December 2001. This room has been restored and conditioned for the exhibition of digital art works in accordance with the agreement signed between the Centro Cultural Recoleta and the Epson Foundation."

Exhibited there was the show Chroma. Exterior Noche/Interior Día (Chroma. Exterior Night/Interior Day) by Pablo Zicarello and Vivian Galbán.

This is another case where the presentation—in this case by Graciela Taquini—seemed like entertaining nonsense to me. To give an example, where the curator says: "The staging lays bare an aspect of the human condition. Here, her back-facing women are colorful, evanescent, elusive, and at the same time unattainable. In some way, an epic underlies it, an open narrative." In those exact works, I only saw a blurred figure. And in those works that were not blurred figures, they were abstracts.

Here, in a tiny corner, as seen in the photo, almost like a hollow in the wall, we found what is called Microespacio, featuring the work of an artist named Fernando Sucari. This exhibition opened on November 13 and closes on February 8 of the current year. It is titled Fresquera (Larder/Cooler). "Cups thrown next to the tree or in the flowerbed"—not just cups, but also styrofoam trays, plastic trays, bottles that were used as molds, combined with some pieces of wood plus a few pebbles, and the result is that construction seen in the photograph. And what meaning does that have? I don't know. I always ask about the meaning, as if to "be able to see something beyond what we are seeing." Perhaps it means nothing at all, but meaning nothing would allow me to say anything at all about what I see, and for now I will avoid saying anything more about it.

The title did catch my attention. Fresquera. According to Wikipedia, Fresquera was defined as: "A larder or chamber was the small household dependency intended to keep food fresh. Before the spread of electricity and the popularization of the refrigerator, it was the most common system for this, along with the pantry. Even later, the refrigerator has been familiarly called a chamber or fresquera by analogy."

To expand, you can visit these two links: http://blogs.20minutos.es/capeando-la-crisis/2014/07/24/las-fresqueras-que-invento/ and http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fresquera What is the relation to the stacking of the artwork? ...? To see more photographs by this artist, you can visit here: http://fernandosucari.tumblr.com/

In the Historieta Space, an exhibition opened on November 13 by Julieta Arroquy, titled “É un mondo difficcile”. On the CCR webpage it says: "Solo exhibition by cartoonist Julieta Arroquy reviewing her early works of graphic humor and her recent creation, Ofelia, in the mythical Historieta room."

This exhibition was the one I liked the least; rather, I disliked it. I entered with the idea of seeing something creative or original, unique to the author—whether I like it or not—but when I saw what it was about, it rubbed me the wrong way. It turns out the cartoonist placed her character "Ofelia" (whom I had never heard of nor knew existed as such) inside a varied collection of famous artworks by renowned painters, for example, Picasso's Guernica, Munch's The Scream, Klimt's The Kiss, Warhol's Marilyns, Van Gogh's Bedroom in Arles, Quino's Mafalda, Magritte's The Son of Man, etc. Ultimately, she reproduced these works and inserted into them...