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29 SEPTEMBER 2010 NEW YORK
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LOT 46. DESIREE DOLRON (DETAIL)

lot 53. josÉ zanine caldas (detail)

lot 90. carlos cruz-diez (detail)

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lot 123. viK muniz (detail)

ContentS

Simon de pury

Inspired by LATIN AMERICA, the Chairman’s letter

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CéSar CervanteS eduardo abaroa

…on bringing home the art (and annoying the neighbors)

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The ringmaster of a parade of junk and ideas

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The Cuban sculptor brings color to where art, architecture and design meet

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jorge pardo Carmen herrera franCiS alÿS

The nonagenarian Cuban painter interviewed by Hans Ulrich Obrist

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The Belgian multi-practitioner who can (literally) move mountains with faith

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dr lakra CarloS amoraleS objeCt leSSon newS 1pm: latin ameriCa buyerS guide

The shapely influences of Lot 169

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The Doctor takes the art of tattooing to new depths

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From earthquakes to butterflies, Amorales talks us through his latest projects

What’s happening in the international art world

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Lots 1 – 313

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How to buy and whom to contact at Phillips de Pury

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Mexico City is a city which has captivated me.The people, the food, the music and the architecture all add to my enjoyment. Above all, it is the art that comes out of the city that makes me feel so alive.And this is true for Latin America in general – it has the most fantastic art scene, which this catalogue and this sale celebrate.

The square known as the Zócolo is the focus of downtown Mexico City. It is a square that in the past has been used both for bouncy castles and political protest, and has provided the setting for a major work by Francis Alÿs, who lives and works nearby. It was also the destination of Eduardo Abaroa’s parade of garbage, an artwork that carries with it a serious message to both Mexico and the world.

Mexico has great collectors, including César Cervantes, who buys not just the established stars of the scene but fearlessly commissions works by emerging artists. Minerva Cuevas’ white flag flying proudly over his El Pedregal property is a symbol of peace, although not necessarily perceived as one by his neighbors.

Carlos Amorales’ latest work was inspired by the 1985 earthquake, a tragedy that devastated much of Mexico City.Tools that were constructed from the image of shattered buildings are transformed into drawing machines.

There is a toughness of spirit demonstrated by all these artists and nowhere is this better illustrated than in the interview with the 94-year-old, Cuban-born painter Carmen Herrera. Her feisty responses to Hans Ulrich Obrist’s challenges are balanced by her beautifully contemplative paintings, many of which are now in some of the great Latin American and international collections. It is this spirit that I find the most inspiring, and that makes Latin American art so vibrant and exciting.

and that makes Latin American art so vibrant and exciting. SIMON de PURY ChaIRMaN, PhIllIPS de

SIMON de PURY ChaIRMaN, PhIllIPS de PURY & COMPaNY

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césar cervantes a crush on contemporary art

words Karen wright | PhotograPhs livia corona

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César Cervantes photographed in El Pedregal in Mexico City, July 23, 2010

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Above: (in garden, at rear) Daniel Guzmán, Sleeping on the Roof , 2001; (outside window)

Above: (in garden, at rear) Daniel Guzmán, Sleeping on the Roof, 2001; (outside window) Damián Ortega, America Nuevo Order, 1997; (inside window) Abraham Cruzavillegas, Pelusa Opposite, top: Lawrence Weiner, A Bit + A Bit Until the Pot is Full, 2008; Gabriel Orozco, Pinched Star, 1996; below: (on floor) Gedi Siboney, Untitled, 2007; (center) Edward Kranski, Intervention 16, 1976; (floating balloon) Mario Garcia Torres, Sometimes the world is heavier than an artist’s breath, 2008

The dashing COLLeCTOR César Cervantes, welcomes me into his stylish 1960s house in el Pedregal, the fashion- able district of the sprawling group of former villages that together form Mexico City, the largest metropolis in Central america. i knew i had arrived when i am confronted on the street by a large Jimmie durham work, a car that has appar- ently been flattened by an imposing boulder. entering the house, we pass a group of works by daniel guzmán, a Mexico City artist whom César is close to ‘both as a friend and collector’. César points out a glowing red tent by the front gate from which music throbs out, a work by daniel: ‘i consider this work to be the heart of the collection. i come down here and read the papers on sunday morning.’ in César’s study, there’s more to look at.The floor is an über-shiny dance floor, complete with its own dancing pole, installed by the Thai artist Rirkrit Tiravanija, another of César’s favorites. We sit surrounded by shelves sagging under the weight of art books which are mainly on Latin- american artists, although i spy a sizeable group of books on duchamp and Bruce nauman. César started his art collection when he was studying at university in Florida. he went to a local mall gallery and chose a large work (approximately three feet by five) by david Fenton for $3,500. his student dorm mates were non- plussed. ‘Who was this strange Mexican guy, who, instead of buying a new TV or beer, bought this painting, they won- dered. in my room all that was left was ten inches on each side of the wall.’ When César decided to start collecting Mexican art, his reference materials were scanty; he relied largely on social magazines like Hola! The recurring names were of Mexican figurative artists, among them Rafael Cuadro and gustavo aceves: ‘The house of every important politician or entrepreneur would have paintings by these artists,’ he says. César followed suit. ‘Later, i remember asking one of these artists about an artist i had heard about - gabriel Orozco - and him replying that he had no idea. six months later i discovered who he was, and then i found out that they went to art college at the same time. That was really meaningful to me,’ he says. César eventually sold all these works to his friends, scrupulously charging the same price he had brought them for. he shows me the first catalogue published by eugenio Lopez, the founder of the Jumex Foundation and one of the best-known collectors in the region. César points to many of the same names that he had in his initial collection, saying he thinks they still remain in the Lopez collection today. he recalls that he was expecting to meet Lopez at the wedding of a mutual friend and found that the great man had gone to Basel for an art fair instead. ‘Basel? an art fair? i thought, where is Basel? it didn’t sound swiss at all, it sounded Latin-american, and i couldn’t ask because i had no idea. and i had no idea what an art fair was either.The first place i went to after univer- sity, as i had started my chain of restaurants, Taco inn, was the restaurant industry fair, and you could understand seeing the new freezer line or the new grater line, but art in this big centre?’ Undeterred, César did some research and set a course for FiaC, ‘not only because it was Paris, which for me was still the capital of art, but because it was right away!’ his first impressions of FiaC baffled him. ‘Ten years ago, FiaC was still very conservative. i was shocked and i didn’t

understand anything. i got the artist directory and, of course, none of the art- ists i had invested all my money in were listed. But i found this little name

– gabriel Orozco. so i walked into galerie Chantal Crousel, and that is how

i bought my first work by gabriel Orozco, a photograph.’ César said to his then fiancée (and now wife) Monica, ‘We are collec- tors. We’ve come to the fair, and so let’s go and buy one of those little paint- ings with the dates on it, an On Kawara, and then we can bring it back with us in the plane.’ he admits to his own naivety at that time. ‘it’s because it took years to get that other painting, the one i brought when i was in college, back to Mexico and to bring that painting into the city took years and it cost more than the painting itself cost.’ The painting went missing during its shipment. ‘There were all these discussions about corruption; i remember how expensive it was to make a crate for that painting. so this On Kawara painting was perfect.’ he went to the Yvon Lambert stand and asked what other dates they had for sale. ‘i was so confident of what i was doing – my fiancée was there,

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«you will see in my house that art is for the human scale. the moment it loses that,the quotidian part of art is lost»

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«barnet newman was the most intelligent person i ever heard talk about art. he was a brilliant person and he had a marvellous wife, and we used to»

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César Cervantes in Monika Sosnowska’s Mirror Room, 1997

i was a collector, i had my ViP card. and you know how it works, no one tells

you the price, no one gives you any more information, especially if you ask such a silly question. But this lady was very nice. she said, “Listen. i am sorry to say it is sold and it is the only one we have.” i said, “no, no! i want to buy one, i can wait for tomorrow.” and she said, “no, there is a very long waiting list. Maybe the artist could consider selling one to you, but that will take many months now.” ‘she probably thought she was going to get rid of me by telling me the price – $35,000, the same amount i had paid for my big painting by Rafael Cauduro. i couldn’t believe that this thing was the same price. so that was the end of the shock. We left FiaC and went to a book- store and i bought my first contemporary art book – on On Kawara.’ it took another three years before César managed to obtain the On Kawara that now hangs above the Franz West sofa in the living room. i am writing this not to labor César’s self-confessed naivety but to explain a basic point about Mexico at that time.There was little information, few galleries, few contemporary collectors and no access to the increas- ingly substantial group of contemporaries of gabriel Orozco–Francis alÿs generation. That said, things were changing there, with the opening of new

galleries such as Mexico City’s Kurimanzutto, which exhibits many of the artists on display in César’s house. We jump up to explore upstairs, moving into the main living space past

a work of colored feathered bowling balls by abraham Cruzvillegas, cur-

rently on a daad artist’s program in Berlin, to stand by the hanging works by gabriel Orozco in front of the On Kawara. César says that Orozco’s solo exhibition in Mexico in 1991 was a per-

sonal ‘breaking point’. ‘i have seen many of his exhibitions and i still think that was the best show he had ever done in a museum. That was a very important thing.’ Reading an interview with gabriel Orozco by Francesco Bonami, César learned that the Romanian artistandré Cadere was Orozco’s most important influence. César tracked down a Cadere work, now on loan at the Jumex Foundation. he points to where it normally stands and says disconsolately, ‘if the guzmán tent is the heart of my collection, the Cadere

is the spine!’

i see a Banana peel apparently abandoned on the living room floor and

recognize it as the work of the young Mexican artist adriana Lara – an artist who Francis alÿs has described to me as an exciting member of a new gen- eration of Mexican talent. The work was displayed recently in a show at the Jumex, and has also been included in the recent showYounger than Jesus at the new Museum in new York City. César admits that he really enjoys the work’s concept, which is that a banana should be eaten every day and the peel then discarded on the spot. he admits rather sadly that the woman who works in the house has taken over the chore, something that he had enjoyed doing, and that she insists on dropping the peel in the same place every day. This does mean, however, that it is done whether the family is in residence or not. On the table nearby, there is a work by gabriel Kuri, the Mexican-born artist who now lives in Belgium and whose brother is Jose Kuri, the dealer and partner in the Kurimanzutto gallery. Kuri’s is another work that involves an element of caretaking, as it is consists of a number of avocados wrapped

in old newspapers that relate to the first lunar landing. César explains it is a

homage to the national fruit of Mexico and was a nod to how women would ripen their fruits when they brought them home by wrapping them in newspaper. nearby on a raised stage is another work by Orozco, a sculpture made from squashing modeling clay into star-like forms which are then cast in metal. standing against the step in front of it is a work by the late French conceptual artist, Robert Filliou. César tells me the epic tale of its purchase:

he had heard about the work, an intervention in the Louvre in which Filliou had managed to get the Mona Lisa replaced by a bucket and mop with a sign that read, ‘La Jaconde est dans les escaliers’. César admits that the interven- tion had only lasted a day before a public outcry stopped it.The intervention may have only lasted a day, but it took two years to track down the work which was eventually found in the home of Filliou’s widow. Works concerned with vestigial memory are here in many forms.There

«i always feel a collector should not trust an artist who has more than two assistants»

Opposite: top left, (on ceiling) Gabriel Orozco, Bamboo Balls, 2002, (on floor) Rirkrit Tiravanija, Elephant Juice, 2007, and Untitled, 2006; top right, Bernadette Corporation, Please Read the Titles to Your Self, 2007; bottom right, Robert Fillou, La Giaconde, 1974; bottom left, Jim Lambie, 18 Carrots, 1994 This page, from top: Carol Bove, Touching, 2004; Adriana Lara, Banana Peel, 2008; (on table) Gabriel Kuri, Naturaleza Recuperada, 2003, (on wall) Thomas Hirschorn, Coins, 1997

is a beaten-up shipping case in the living room that César tells me contains

the cooking implements of Rirkrit’s memorable show Pad Thai (1990), in which he cooked for his friends on the opening night, leaving the debris in the gallery for the remainder of the show. César has several of this argentinian-born, Thai-based artist’s works. he points to a shiny chair nearby which he admits came as a complete surprise. he had been making chairs for himself out of packing cases and when Rirkrit had visited he had asked for one. it was duly dismantled and packed, but it came as a complete surprise when he was notified that there was a work of art waiting to be col- lected in Paris. When he made enquiries, he was told that this had been made at the behest of Rirkrit, the condition being that it had to be packed and shipped to Mexico. it turned out to be a replica of the chair in shiny alu- minum. César laughs, recalling that, like his first purchase as a student at university, this work cost more to ship than the actual work. Over the years César has befriended several local artists, many of whom he has works by or made projects with. every year he does a site-spe- cific project with an artist, helping with the fabrication. he takes me into the garden to show me The Way (2008) by Minerva Cuevas. it is a very tall tree

trunk, a particular tree that Minerva chose from her home town far from Mexico City, atop which is a white flag, a homage to gandhi.The flag pokes over the top of the property, like the durham car in the front, indicating that something strange is afoot here. When i ask whether the neighbors under-

stand his collection, he says that, ironically, it is the project by sofiaTáboas,

a beautiful mural on the staircase that looks like the floor of a swimming

pool, which has caused the most problems. ‘The work had steps that pro- truded through the wall of the house. The neighbors were concerned about the new skypool being built.’ They were also worried about the people ascending the narrow steps to see a work by Monika sosnowska, yet another

project on the roof, César’s equivalent of a skyroom. We walk into this piece,

a cross between an infinity room by Yayoi Kusama and a work by James

Turrell. it is an astonishing space – mirrored and open to the sky so the tall trees around the property can be seen.

neaRBY is One OF the messier pieces in the collection, a work by Jim

Lambie entitled 18 carats. The idea of this work involves carrots (18, naturally), the tops of which are dipped into carrot-colored paint and then thrown against the wall, which becomes smeared with Pollock-like marks of carrot orange. César’s problem was that Lambie had no idea how hard it is to get carrots with tops on in Mexico City – he has to have them Fedexe’d every two weeks directly from organic growers far outside Mexico City. sometimes César comes back

to find decomposing carrots full of bugs and creepy-crawlies.

as we go round the house, César tells me about the Jimmie durham work i encountered as i arrived. it seems that the work is not on the house’s property itself because durham demanded that it be in a public place.When César emailed him with a photograph of the street and asked ‘is this public enough?’, the deal was done or almost done. installation was difficult, César says. ‘We needed a crane to lift the boulder, but when it arrived it was too high to go under the many electricity cables so we needed a special – and therefore very expensive – machine.’ a few days later, Jimmie came back and tagged the boulder with the louche lips and eyes that give the work an unexpected humorous twist. another work, by Mario garcia Torres, consists of a simple helium- filled black balloon attached to the ground by a string.This has also been a costly nightmare to maintain, says César. Because of the altitude of Mexico City, helium only lasts for two days before it has to be replaced. ‘We keep a large tank of helium in the garage to do it.’ When i comment on the high maintenance, he looks around the room pointing at other works. The work by abraham Cruzvillegas, the first one César acquired, is a frozen cake that stands in an old and inefficient refrigerator unit. Of course, there are the avocados, carrots and bananas, as well as some floating bam- boo balls by Orozco near the door. These last works were among César’s earlier purchases. The five balls swing gently, looking like exotic birds. César admits there is an upkeep issue here too – the leaves are of fresh bamboo that have to be shipped from China. i comment on a Lawrence Weiner piece, A BIT + A BIT UNTIL A POT IS FULL, consisting of lettering on the window nearby. ‘Lawrence came to see the work when it was installed. i had had the work placed on the window by our Taco inn sign painters. he looked at the work and started to cry. i was concerned. Lawrence told me that he’d had a phone call that his mother had died. his reaction had been to write down a phrase in Yiddish that had the

he’d had a phone call that his mother had died. his reaction had been to write
he’d had a phone call that his mother had died. his reaction had been to write
he’d had a phone call that his mother had died. his reaction had been to write

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Above: Abraham Cruzvillegas and Francis Alÿs, El Rey de la Paja , 1997 Opposite: Jimmie

Above: Abraham Cruzvillegas and Francis Alÿs, El Rey de la Paja, 1997 Opposite: Jimmie Durham, Still Life with Spirit and Xitle, 2007

same sentiment and this work came out of that. he had lost track of where the work was and rediscovered it in this house in Mexico City.’ since that visit to César’s house, he and Lawrence have been friends. i ask César about his recent purchases. he says that rather than go to art Basel this year, he had chosen instead to go to Warsaw. ‘it was one of my best trips ever. i got back after many, many years, a work by edward Krasinski, but my incredible discovery – well, she is very famous there, but i had never heard of her – was alina szapocznikow. she was born in 1926 and died in 1973. i was completely attracted to her just by looking at the catalogue. When i saw her photo- graphs, it made me think of eva hesse. her work made me think – she worked with resins – but she made me think a lot about her, like these little works.The more i read it, the more i think about Louise Bourgeois. she was a sculptor, and she did beautiful drawings as well.’ César’s first trip to eastern europe in 2003 had been an eye opener. ‘i had no idea where i was,’ he says. ‘i was happy to see many things, but mostly i was a tourist, and i didn’t like that, i didn’t feel comfortable. so my interest in art took me to understand eastern europe better, and that made me understand Communism and all that happened there. now i understand how they lived, how different it was to make art there compared to Paris or London’.

it is not just about art we talk about but museums as well. César loves the human scale of the art he collects and how important

he feels it is to have it in a domestic environment. ‘i hate seeing those muse-

ums. i will never pay a ticket to go into those museums. You will see in my house, i hope, that art is for the human scale.The moment it loses that, the quotidian part of art most of the time is lost… These museums are about anything but the human scale; they are offensive and oppressive. They are

built not for the art but for the architectural magazines.’

a RaReTReaT – César invites me to stay for dinner – a typical family meal,

he says. We sit on the Franz West sofas in the living room. i worry about spilling quesadillas and refried beans onto the sofa artworks. i ask if his young children (he has two, Bruno, aged three, and Lazara, aged one) respect the art works and he says, surprisingly, yes. he says the one work he worries about is the book-work piece by the window, a collection of feminist and social anthropological books that Carol Bove has amassed. ‘The prob- lem is we encourage them to read and look at books and then we say, no!’ This segues into talk of the damián Ortega project, comprising books of iconic art texts previously unavailable in spanish that he is publishing in a new edition which will be available to students. damián Ortega is omnipresent in this house, from video works, includ- ing one on the roof, to photographic pieces and sculpture. ‘he has become a close friend,’ admits César, and one whose success he has watched with both pride and trepidation. ‘i always feel a collector should not trust an art- ist who has more than two assistants – yet you can not take away the fact that damián sold out his first show with Barbara gladstone in new York in two days – by his calculations making a million dollars.’ While the house is private, César enjoys the multitudes of requests for visits. he says recently a neighbor’s son had to write a report about art and asked if he could do it about the house. ‘he came and interviewed me and Monica and studied the pieces,’ César says. ‘When he handed it in, the teacher asked if she could bring his class over to see the house.’ in the same week, César was approached by a woman whose partner had recently been released from prison: ‘so, in one week, we had so-called rehabilitated prisoners and a class of eleven-year-olds coming into the house.’ With César’s infectious enthusiasm and knowledge, i am sure they all took their leave with a new appreciation of both the joys and trials of a contemporary collector. n

«museums are offensive and oppressive.they are built not for the art but for the architectural magazines»

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Photos courtesy the artist and SofiaTaboás

Photos courtesy the artist and SofiaTaboás eduardo abaroa Carnival of trash words iggy cortez On July

eduardo abaroa Carnival of trash

words iggy cortez

eduardo abaroa Carnival of trash words iggy cortez On July 4, 2010, artist and writer Eduardo

On July 4, 2010, artist and writer Eduardo Abaroa organized a parade of junk in a project that aimed to sensitize the general public to Mexico City’s local garbage crisis, as the city also prepares to host the UN’s Climate Talks in November 2010

THE STATE OF the environment, as we are all too aware, should normally give little cause for celebration, and Mexico City, Latin America’s largest metropolis, is in a particularly precarious condition. Separating waste for recycling remains culturally alien to this city in which plastic, from the ubiq- uitous water bottle to the excessive packaging of seemingly every purchas- able item, has deeply infiltrated all aspects of everyday life. As less than ten per cent of waste is recycled, the city’s landfill sites run the risk of overflow- ing – a situation which, if unchecked, could be ruinous to one of the most densely populated cities in the world – with the danger of toxic levels of methane spreading to residential areas. Given this alarming scenario, it might seem peculiar that Eduardo Abaroa, one of Mexico City’s leading art- ists, has addressed this crisis with a playful Carnival of Trash, a celebratory parade of brightly colored floats that crossed the city’s historic center with a procession of street cleaners and even a giant plastic dinosaur. Abaroa’s deployment of mirth is a strategy that aims to sensitize the general public to what can be done to remedy the city’s garbage crisis. Commissioned by the Goethe-Institut Mexico, Carnival of Trash was part of

«abaroa’s is a sensibility that is as alChemiCal as it is analytiC. it is a method to interrogate the very notion of produCtion»

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Residual, a network of creative projects by Mexican and German artists to mobilize the public towards solutions for averting ecological disaster – par- ticularly the simple, yet crucial, separation of trash for recycling. Through the help of a team of German artists and volunteers, as well as the partici- pation of the street cleaners and garbage collectors the project wanted to celebrate, Abaroa’s sculptures for the parade were organized according to distinct materials, reflecting the trash separation the project hoped its audience would repeat in their everyday lives. A display of dresses made from juice-packets was followed by giant aluminum spheres made from Tetra Paks, then by a jellyfish assembled from plastic bags and carriages of broken electrical appliances, ending with a dinosaur fashioned from thou- sands of used water bottles.True to the spirit of the initiative, all the sculp- tures were later dismantled and recycled. The project’s radical gesture is not only to replace the paralyzing panic brought on by the social emergency with optimistic desire, but also to equate social responsibility with creativity through the separating of trash and the recycling of reusable materials. Transformation, renewal and an

interest in social structures have, of course, always been visible in Abaroa’s practice which has

interest in social structures have, of course, always been visible in Abaroa’s practice which has consistently looked to the streets to rework their refuse into art objects. It’s a sensibility that is as alchemical as it is analytic – it is a method to interrogate the very notion of production (cultural, social, economic) while also engaging in the aesthetic potential of materials to generate new forms. In a manner similar to how the obsession with hygiene- influenced modernist ideals for machines for living and the purity of materials, Carnival of Trash signals emerging new practices in art that engage with garbage not in a childish celebration of the improper or an hysterical rejection of the unthinka- ble, but as a means that confront the conditions that regulate our lives in order to rework them, and in order to anticipate the future precisely so that we may have one. n

regulate our lives in order to rework them, and in order to anticipate the future precisely
regulate our lives in order to rework them, and in order to anticipate the future precisely

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Jorge Pardo photographed on July 16, 2010

Jorge pardo living (in) sculpture

words alex coles | Portrait livia corona

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Images courtesy Jorge Pardo Studio and Haunch of Venison

Images courtesy Jorge Pardo Studio and Haunch of Venison Above: Jorge Pardo’s Merida house; below: C

Above: Jorge Pardo’s Merida house; below: César and Mima Reyes’s House in Puerto Rico

«i’m interested in using the design team because i see this as a work

I MEET JORGE Pardo in the small but visually stunning home he created from a dilapidated colonial building in Mérida, inYucatán, Mexico. Renovated over a five-year period, it is the second of two houses – sculptures that can be lived in is more accurate – that he has created for himself, the other being 4166 Sea View Lane (1998), a multi-leveled redwood building set on a steep hill above downtown Los Angeles. Alongside Pardo’s numerous lamps, sculptures and installations, these houses use the languages of design and architecture to produce a con- ceptually underpinned yet visually dynamic form of contemporary art. Pardo, who was born in Havana, Cuba in 1963 but who has lived in the US for most of his life, has become one of the key figures in a generation which has occupied the fertile territory on the threshold between these different visual media. As such, he is associated with a generation of artists – including Andrea Zittel, Pae White, AtelierVan Lieshout andTobias Rehberger – who came to international prominence in the mid- 1990s, as well as being linked with the Relational Aesthetics phenomenon which has dominated European art in the last two decades. In the past five years, Pardo’s work has taken a new turn towards a more exuberant and

lyrical visual language.This has surely to do with the amount of time he has been spending in Central America. With his native Cuba out of reach due to its visa complications for a North American, Yucatán has become Pardo’s new home for part of the year, and he has frequent holidays in Puerto Rico. We speak over dinner in the reception room, once the heat and humid- ity of the day has abated. A series of his most recent lamps – their billowing shades throwing strange shadows everywhere as the late afternoon turns into evening – sets the scene for our conversation. As we talk, Pardo and I flip through a series of lush photographs of another house he designed – for collectors César and Mima Reyes in Naguabo, Puerto Rico in 2008. Like Pardo’s previous houses, the usually segregated elements of kitchen, dining room, reception room and lobby flow into one continuous space. A dreamy stream of tiles – transitioning from aqua-blue to turquoise, through green, all the way to yel- low – connects the room together and links the house to the Caribbean landscape over which it looks. ‘Basically, César and I met in the late 1990s, and I began to visit him and Mima in Puerto Rico for family holidays,’ Pardo says. ‘César had owned a piece of land high up on the cliff in Naguabo for some years. Out of this time

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Installation view of Bulgogi exhibit at Gagosian Gallery, Beverly Hills, 2010 of artthat i’m making

Installation view of Bulgogi exhibit at Gagosian Gallery, Beverly Hills, 2010

of artthat i’m making – i don’t see it as a social,collaborativething»

we spent together came the idea of working on a house.’ Inside the house, the Reyes’s mingled their art and design collections with the interiors Pardo had designed. The result is an dynamic space where art, architecture and design are truly in unison. All too often, onlookers are confused by precisely what Pardo is doing in these projects: is he really an artist or is he a designer or an architect? Or maybe he is all three?This spurious process of questioning entirely misses the point: Pardo is an artist who deploys the language of design and archi- tecture to the ends of making art. ‘I don’t feel comfortable as an architect and I don’t feel comfortable as a designer, because I’m not either,’ Pardo says bluntly, obviously frustrated when I ask him about this topic. ‘I’m inter- ested in utilizing the design team rather than working with them to be hon- est, because I see this as a work of art that I’m making and I don’t see it as a social, collaborative thing – which is different.’ Of course, Pardo is not the first artist to move freely between disci- plines. Members of the historical avant-gardes – Dutch De Stijl, German Bauhaus, and Soviet Constructivists – simultaneously produced paintings, furniture, sculptures and buildings, and more recently there are the Pop art- ists and the Minimalists, both of whom pressed languages more readily associated with graphic and product design into the service of producing art. Any confusion brought about by artists who operate in such an interdis- ciplinary fashion can thus be assuaged by even the briefest glance at

the avant-garde canon. Pardo peppers our conversation with references to these forebears – clearly aware that they establish a fitting context for his work. Spending an entire evening with him in Mérida, it becomes clear how Pardo’s art is truly a part of his lifestyle – that is, lifestyle as understood in terms of lived everyday life, with its myriad textures, rather than as a glossy concept peddled by the media. At the very kernel of Pardo’s practice is the way he uses his vocabulary to adapt to, or even trigger, new rhythms of living and working in a space.The house in Mérida retools the language of Mexican architects such as Luis Barragán by adapting it to the way he personally wants to live. The house is totally windowless and thus completely private, but the ceiling of the central portion of the house, which follows both an elon- gated pool and the kitchen area, has been removed. Pardo can move quickly from his work desk in the central room, pick up a snack from the kitchen and drop into the pool – a regular occurrence during July, he assures me.Watching him traverse the space, it becomes clear why he has designed it in this way and why it is often essential that clients are friends: this way Pardo can observe how they use their spaces and design for them accordingly. The role and character of the studio in Pardo’s practice is equally cru- cial to understanding his complex work. In format and operation, Pardo’s large studio in Los Angeles, which I visited last year in his absence, is radi- cally different to the traditional artist’s studio. ‘For me, the studio is not a

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Images courtesy Jorge Pardo Studio and Haunch of Venison

Images courtesy Jorge Pardo Studio and Haunch of Venison Untitled , 2010 at the Friedrich Petzel

Untitled , 2010 at the Friedrich Petzel Gallery, New York

«my hobby of flying aircraft provides an optic onto how i like to

romantic place,’ Pardo affirms. ‘It’s a very real place of design and produc- tion.’ In the smaller of its two parts nestles the office, where young design- ers and architects generate the designs for the artworks using CAD soft- ware. Adjacent to this space, the larger part of the studio contains the bustling factory where the works are fabricated using complex CNC Router machines, programmed by the experts who are a key part of the studio.The proximity between the two spaces is unusual: most artists either produce their work by hand in the studio with the help of assistants, or send their designs off to be constructed by a professional fabricator. Running the office and the factory components of the studio so closely together allows Pardo to use it as a tool to investigate new approaches towards the design and fabrication of his art. ‘The studio is simply a device to generate the work,’ he says.This unique approach also enables him to operate in a more flexible way, at times halting production when an idea changes midway through – as it often does – and bringing it back to the design process. The time Pardo has spent in theYucatán working on his own house and the other projects he is undertaking in the area, including a series of large haciendas in the nearby jungle, has had a significant impact on all of his work, not only in terms of its formal vocabulary – swirling wood screens at Friedrich Petzel Gallery, New York, earlier this year, and oversized Mayan masks at Haunch of Venison in London two years ago – but also in the meth- ods by which it is fabricated. Earlier this year, Pardo shifted a portion of his

production, including assistants and machines, from his studio in Los Angeles to Mérida and set-up a new micro-studio in the city.This move has enabled Pardo to take increased advantage of the craft skills and techniques available in the region. To cite just one example, the house in which we talk the evening away shimmers with a cool blue hue that emanates from its walls: a result of the way craftsmen in the Yucatán mix colored pigment into the cement instead of applying color to the finished surface. Pardo runs the studio in a very informal way. During the early part of the evening, the two assistants running the micro-studio pay a visit for a brief meeting.There are some things that Pardo wants to discuss. A bottle of wine – an Argentinian Malbec – is passed around the elongated Pardo- designed table in the centre of the room. ‘There’s a lot of stuff flying around,’ Pardo says, between slurps of wine, ‘and we need to nail it down. There’s a list: the palapas – where’s that going to go now it has been delivered over here from Düsseldorf? What’s going to happen with the extra bedroom on this house? We need to figure these things out – and soon.’ The informal meeting speeds up and the atmosphere becomes slightly intense as precise information is exchanged in response to Pardo’s questions. ‘But things are so slow down here! It could take months to do the room. The whole mañana thing drives me nuts sometimes,’ says Mecky Reuss, one of the studio’s architects who recently relocated from LA to Mérida. ‘I thought you were used to that by now,’ Pardo replies. ‘There is a way to work with these people

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Above and below: installation views of Jorge Pardo’s mid-career retrospective at the K21 Kunstsammlung NRW,

Above and below: installation views of Jorge Pardo’s mid-career retrospective at the K21 Kunstsammlung NRW, Düsseldorf, 2009

make exhibitions,by creating a kind of feedback loop betweenthem»

that gets the tempo just right, but it just takes a while to learn it.’ After a few comments from Anna Paula Ruiz Galindo, another of the studio’s key relo- cated architects, the wine goes around the table one more time until, even- tually, it is empty. Pardo rises to get a new bottle, but takes a while selecting it, mulling over a Spanish Ribera del Duero byTelmo Rodríguez, and then a Michel Rolland Malbec from Argentina. This is evidently a sign that the meeting is now effectively over. In his last full-scale museum exhibition at K21, Düsseldorf, in 2009, Pardo recreated the dynamics of his work in Yucatán on a different scale through the genre of installation. Three palapas – open sided, roofed con- structions – were used to structure the entire ground floor space of the gallery. ‘People in Europe know my work based on architectural tropes well,’ Pardo ruminates, casting his mind back to the exhibition, ‘but previously these tropes had been particu- lar, in either material or detail, to California. The palapas enable me to develop that vocabulary but in a way that is specific to my current interests down here in the Yucatán.’ In the K21 exhibition, the palapas were divided using a series of intricately

patterned screens, on which hung pictures and objects – some functional, like lamps, and some purely decorative, such as family pictures set in ornate frames. The floor space was taken up by a series of chairs and sofas and a number of lamps, each with a slightly different configuration, hung gingerly from the ceiling. The exhibition was intended as a mid-career survey exhibition, but rather than simply laying out his work to date in either chronological or the- matic order, Pardo completely reshuffled and redeployed it by using the three palapas as points of orientation to make an entirely new installation and thus a fresh way of looking at the development of his practice. In addition to this, a small closed off room in the centre of the exhibition – its nucleus in a way – contained a fully operational flight simulator. It enabled the visitor to fly through the previ- ous installment of Pardo’s traveling survey show at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Miami from 2007. About this small, yet essential, addition Pardo says: ‘Here, my hobby of flying aircraft provides an optic onto how I like to make exhibitions by creat- ing a kind of feedback loop between them.’ A little more back and forth, and our

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carmen herrera the quiet revolutionary interview hans ulrich obrist 30

carmen herrera the quiet revolutionary

interview hans ulrich obrist

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Main picture: courtesy Getty Images. All images of Carmen Herrera and artworks courtesy the artist.

images of Carmen Herrera and artworks courtesy the artist. Main picture: view of Havana in the

Main picture: view of Havana in the 1950s Inset: Carmen Herrera in Cuba, 1941

of Havana in the 1950s Inset: Carmen Herrera in Cuba, 1941 Carmen Herrera was born in
of Havana in the 1950s Inset: Carmen Herrera in Cuba, 1941 Carmen Herrera was born in

Carmen Herrera was born in 1915 in Havana, Cuba, where her father was the founding editor of the daily newspaper El Mundo, and her mother a reporter. She studied art as a young child before going to high school in Paris. Upon her return to Cuba, she enrolled in the prestigious University of Havana to study architecture. In 1939 she married Jesse Loewenthal, never completing her studies, and in 1948 the couple moved to Paris from New York where they had been living. There she showed her work with the Salon des Realites Nouvelles, a group that promoted the work of geometric abstract artists, alongside that of Josef Albers, Jean Arp, Sonia Delaunay and others. While Carmen is very aware of her Cuban identity and her work clearly occupying a place in a line of Latin American abstract art, she says “I don’t start my days feeling as a Cuban woman who is going to make a picture. I am a painter who is going to paint a picture.” In 1954, Carmen and her husband returned to New York where she still lives and works (Jesse died in 2000 at the age of 98.) Success has come late to Carmen – she sold her first painting when she was 89 – and she continues to paint while quietly enjoying her new-found recognition.

CARMEN HERRERA You know; I never had any recognition or luck in America, always in Europe. It never fails!

HANS ULRICH OBRIST But now, through Europe you have become famous in America.

CHWell. I don’t like fame very much, to tell you the truth.

HUO But you’ve always worked, all your life?

CH All my life, all my life.

HUO You’ve never stopped.

CHWell, now I have a helper. He’s a very sweet man, and a very easy person to work with. We work together.

HUO You said in an interview once that painting is a compulsion for you. Do you remember the very beginning of this compulsion to paint?

CH My father collected a lot of paintings. I was always surrounded by paintings – paintings, of course, of a different time. I always painted. But you know that all children paint and that’s wonderful – they sing, they dance, they paint, they do everything, and then something happens and they stop. But the ones that do not stop become artists or writers. And unfortunately for them they don’t know what’s ahead! [Laughs] I think I was lucky; anyone who has… I wouldn’t call it a mission… a desire to do something, a really big desire to accomplish something, is very lucky.

HUO So it started in your childhood in Cuba

CHYes, I was born in Cuba in 1915. As a matter of fact, it was the time of the early Russian painters – what was his name again?

HUO The Suprematists – Malevich…

CHYes, and then the revolution came and they all ended up in such tragic ways. But they

had done something fabulous. And of course,

I was completely ignorant of that and to my

amazement I discovered the Russian painters in Paris and I said, well this is what I always wanted to do – I didn’t know that such a thing existed, because… you know the way things went. It opened up a path for me, and I was lucky again in this. You know that during the war, this kind of art was considered as, I don’t know, decadent, crazy, whatever, and nobody could show anything, anything. And this I think was the answer to it: Réalités Nouvelles. I was walking around Paris and I saw some old books. I began looking and I found this, and I thought ‘this is what I want to do, this is it!’

HUO And that was in 1950?

CH Yes. And I tried to get rid of the academic training that I had had, and all the ideas that had been put into my head. I met many of these artists, many, and it was a wonderful, wonderful path for me. And then I came to NewYork and I met people like Leon [Polk Smith] and Barnett Newman.

HUO Yet it’s interesting that before you found your path you were already in art. You have said in an interview that Amelia Peláez influenced you when you were growing up.

CH She was a wonderful woman. I mean I like

her work very much but I never was a fan.What

I loved about Amelia was that she had no fear,

she just simply went ahead and did wonderful things. She was a little woman and she would do magnificent things.Very, very avant-garde too, at

that time. She had to be strong to be accepted as

a woman artist, and she was.

HUO She was one of the first artists that you met.

CH She influenced me a lot as a personality, as a person, but I think I wasn’t a disciple of Amelia in any way. I was very much interested in doing

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something which I didn’t know exactly what it was until I came here [to NewYork

something which I didn’t know exactly what it was until I came here [to NewYork City].

HUO You came to New York in the late 40s, early 50s. In Paris, you had obviously accumulated a lot of experiences – you went to school there in 1928, you experienced the crash of 1929; these are all memories of yours?

CH Oh yes, that was terrible, yes. But I mean, you survive or you don’t, but I survived.

HUO But you needed to go back to Cuba during the crash?

CH My mother was alive then, and I used to go back and forth. I got married when I was 22 years old, to my husband who was American, and I came to live in NewYork, and actually New York has been my base all this time. Although, I don’t know if I should say this, I would have much preferred Paris to NewYork, but it couldn’t be, so, as I told you before, my work was never understood here, and in Europe yes, immediately. I found that they had less prejudice against a woman artist in Europe than in the United States where it is supposed to be the land of freedom [laughs]. Well it isn’t…

HUO But there had also been models – there

had been Sonia Delaunay, there had been SophieTaeuber-Arp, there had been many women artists…

CHYes but not many, some – they had to be very strong women and they were and I guess I’m not.

HUO But were you inspired by women like these?

CH I met Sonia in Paris, yes, briefly but…

HUO But before you had your epiphany in 1950 you had already met Barnett Newman with your husband.When did you first meet Newman?

CH He was a friend of my husband, they had gone to college together, and I met him, and he was the most intelligent person I ever heard talk about art. He was a brilliant, brilliant person, and he had a marvellous wife, and we used to get together for lunches and dinners and so on for a while. And then of course he suddenly became exceedingly famous, and fame is terrible. It is a terrible thing to happen to anybody! I mean, I don’t really like it, I like a quiet life, and I had a very quiet life.

HUO Do you think quietness and isolation are a necessity for an artist to work?

CHWell, a few people like what I did and that

was enough for my ego I guess.

HUO So do you think fame changes people – did Barnett Newman change?

CH No, I don’t think it changes people, but it disturbs people. I don’t like it. I am not a public person at all. I want to end up my life with a bit of peace and quiet, and keep on doing these things for as long as I can move.

HUO So you have lived through tumultuous times. You lived through the crash of 1929, and then the revolution in Cuba.

CHThat was before I got married, and we had some very gory dictatorships there, and being the perfect age to get involved with these things, all my friends were against the government, of

course. It was painful, and difficult. But I think in

a way it made me strong. I grew up in a not very

nice way, I don’t desire that for anyone, but… So I

am not a very interesting person, I mean in my personal life I have been very average actually, the way I wanted it, to be quiet.

HUO But that has allowed you to make this extraordinary work. You were obviously very inspired by the European Modernists, but I was wondering to what extent Cuban art had inspired you, because if you look at your work from ’48, there are biomorphic shapes, organic shapes, and one could think of the Afro-Cuban ancestry…

CH I never went for that, for the Afro-Cuban thing, no, I just didn’t react to it. I was a very good friend of Wilfredo Lam who was a

wonderful artist, and I guess in his background

it was easier for him – but not me.

HUO So where do you think this interesting geometry comes from? How do you explain it?

CH My first love was architecture. It comes from that. And it still is actually. But things happened, revolutions and things like that, so by the time

I could enter the architectural school, I was

already in my 20s, and then I met my husband and

I got married and I came to the United States. I

began going to museums and galleries and so on, and little by little I forgot about architecture, and I began going towards painting.

HUO Who were the architects you admired? Who inspired you? Le Corbusier?

CH Well, the Guggenheim in NewYork – Frank Lloyd Wright – very much; apparently he was a difficult person to get along with, but he was a magnificent architect – and, I don’t know, many of them.

HUO What did you like about Frank LloydWright?

«i had an american friend who hated my becoming more minimal in my work. he said ‘carmen,you are going to end up painting a dot,’ and i said,‘oh what a wonderful idea!’»

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33 Clockwise from top left: PM , 1990; Friday , 1978; Red and Blue ,
33 Clockwise from top left: PM , 1990; Friday , 1978; Red and Blue ,

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33 Clockwise from top left: PM , 1990; Friday , 1978; Red and Blue , 1993;
33 Clockwise from top left: PM , 1990; Friday , 1978; Red and Blue , 1993;

Clockwise from top left: PM, 1990; Friday, 1978; Red and Blue, 1993; Epiphany, 1971 Opposite: Herrera in Paris, 1950

Above: Avila , 1974. Opposite, from top: Carmen Herrera with Jesse Loewenthal in Paris, 1949;

Above: Avila, 1974. Opposite, from top: Carmen Herrera with Jesse Loewenthal in Paris, 1949; Herrera and Loewenthal in the studio, 1949; Herrera featured in El Mundo, 1939

«artists are like children:they should be seen and not heard. they never say very intelligent things. when they get philosophical, it is always a disaster»

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CH I like that he was fearless, he did what he wanted to do. And

CH I like that he was fearless, he did what he wanted to do. And sometimes he would argue with himself in the next piece of architecture he was doing. But you know, I admire people who persevere in their careers as artists, because it is not an easy career.

HUO People who insist?

CHYes, you have to.

HUO So it has to be a journey without compromise.

CHYes, that’s right.Without compromise.

HUO Because the artwork changed a lot, but you never changed, you continued…

CH I had to keep on going the same path.

HUO And as an architect by training, you said once in an interview that art is something that is inside you, something that could not be said with words but that is said with lines and colors. Can you explain that to me?

CH Oh! You are asking the impossible, my dear. How can I explain that? You know what

always say. Artists are like children: they should

be seen and not heard.They never say very intelligent things.They paint or they sculpt, or they architect a marvel of things, but when they get philosophical, it is always a disaster.

HUO But it is a nice quote, and I was wondering where you see the difference between art and architecture?

CH For me, in architecture, besides being competent in what you are doing, you have to deal with people who want the architecture. Usually it is a fight between the architect – who is the creative person – and the person who has the purse, the client. And I would have been terrible that way. So maybe things worked out for the best for me.

HUO Because you are independent. You were never dependent on the art market or anything, you were free.That’s very important.

CH I had, all in all, a very quiet and good life that allowed me to do what I wanted to do.

HUO One thing about architecture is that it is applied, it is applicable; there is a use.Yve- Alain Bois wrote this book on Piet Mondrian, and he said that Mondrian is also about models, so these are models, but maybe they are non- applicable models. I was wondering if your paintings are models for society?

CH No, no! But you know, I have a painting PM. Everyone thinks it [stands] for afternoon but it is my homage to Piet Mondrian.

HUO But would you say that your paintings are models?That abstract paintings are models? What are the political aspects of your work?

CH No. I hate politics. First of all, because we, the public, know nothing about what is going on behind curtains. We build our opinions so

mistaken when they think that women are not strong. Women are very strong. We hide it, but we are strong.

HUO What extent have you have been involved in feminism?

CH Well, I guess I was born a feminist, because

always thought I was superior to my brothers. mean they were stronger physically but I was

to my brothers. mean they were stronger physically but I was I wasn’t happy being born

I wasn’t happy being born in a very political

age, where everyone I knew of my age was either a communist or an idiot – there were no in-betweens! It was all very romantic, and very innocent and very young. And only suffering provoked by our arrogance and our innocence.

HUO One thing I wanted to ask you about is

that there is a lot of color in your work, but then there is also a lot of black and white.There was

a whole exhibition of your black and white. I was wondering about the relationship between your periods of color and your periods of black and white where sometimes you resist color.

CHTo me, black and white are colors; the orange and green could be black and white. Values of the colors are very similar, and I can get bored with the black and white. You see; I was working on this series of green and white for a long, long time…

HUO …and then you do black and white.

CHYes. That’s a painting I cherish, Avila [1974]. Have you ever been to Avila? It’s in Spain. Oh, it’s incredible.That is where SantaTeresa of Avila came from. At

that particular time

I was reading her

letters. She was a very politically aware lady. One of the letters was absolutely hysterical. It was an interview with Philip II – between Santa Teresa of Avila, a lady like this [indicates she was small], but a strong woman, and the king. I think people are

35

stronger mentally [laughs], and I have five brothers to contend with!

HUO One thing I wanted to ask you about the black and white – when you use the white this creates a very interesting connection to architecture, because the white blurs with the wall…

CH …Yes, I mean Avila could be a

sculpture too actually… But it has also

feeling of hands embracing you see. I the openness of the arms there.

HUO And the white background makes the connection with the white wall?

CH You know in that town of Avila they all went crazy because SantaTeresa was such an important and such a strong woman, and

they all wanted to be like her.

HUO So she is a kind of hero for you? Do you have other heroes? Other strong women who inspire you?

CH Oh many, many.There have been many women who didn’t make history, but in their personal lives they were very strong. I mean – my mother was one of them. Oh wow she was a strong lady.

HUO Did you learn from other artists?

CH You know, I met many artists, I can’t say I was friends with them – I was friends with Leon

of course, we had a lot in common, but I learnt so much from other artists, from other painters.

I never learnt anything from my art teachers!

HUO And with Leon, that was a particular friendship you had, because Leon and you were very close, and he was a geometric painter also. He was often associated with Hard Edge painting.

CH He was wonderful. He was not recognized as much as he should have been.

He was not recognized as much as he should have been. HUO And did you talk

HUO And did you talk about color?

CH Not necessarily no. But he was very generous – for instance I was doing a circular painting and it was very difficult to find a carpenter who could

make a circle for you, and Leon went to

store and now I can have them made

by a carpenter.The circles came from Germany, and they were meant for – you know stores when they have the windows with a lot of different things – so they use a lot of the circles. He said, Carmen, you’re complicating your life, just go to such and such a

Portrait by Adriana Lopez Sanfeliu. Photos of artist in her studio byTony Bechara

Sanfeliu. Photos of artist in her studio byTony Bechara Above: Carmen Herrera in her New York
Sanfeliu. Photos of artist in her studio byTony Bechara Above: Carmen Herrera in her New York
Sanfeliu. Photos of artist in her studio byTony Bechara Above: Carmen Herrera in her New York

Above: Carmen Herrera in her New York studio Below: Red with White Triangle, 1961

her New York studio Below: Red with White Triangle , 1961 place and you can have

place and you can have all sizes [laughs].

HUO What attracted you to the round shape?

CH [Laughs]The challenge. I have good days and bad days. If I was successful in what I was trying to do, it was a great day. But if I was

struggling with a painting, oh, my poor husband

– he had better go hide!That was making my life

very interesting, my rapport with the physical part of painting. I enjoy it.

HUO But here in the book there are a few drawings. I wanted to ask you about your practice of drawing. Are you making drawings a lot?

CH Oh no, no, that’s allTony’s [Bechara, her assistant] fault, all those things were in the garbage, because those were drawings I did before I did the paintings. I threw them away, andTony picked them up. As a matter of fact,

I destroyed many of the canvases of paintings

that I had done in Europe. But whenTony saw them, he picked them out of the garbage again, except that they were very damaged. And damaged or not damaged, people are buying them, to my amazement.

HUO So these are preparatory sketches for your paintings? So when you have the idea for a painting you make a sketch.

CH I make a sketch always, first. As a matter of fact there is a lot of arithmetic, with numbers.

HUO Do you have a theory of numbers or…

CH … No it’s not a theory, but it is a compromise with the size of the canvas. As soon as I begin locating a few things, then there is a kind of logic, by itself, that carries me through the whole thing. It’s emotional and it’s also cerebral.

HUO And how is it with color – because Itten and Albers had a theory of color. Do you use a theory of color or is it purely intuitive?

CH It is completely intuitive.

HUO But do you have favorite colors? Because

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when you go from black and white, blue appears

a lot, and red.

CH But you see, I’ve been very lazy, because that is already sold – black and white.The other ones require a little more care. [She looks at the book of her painting.] Well, first of all those colors aren’t very true to the canvas, but that’s the best they can do.That series I love very much, the green and white, I did many of those…

HUO … with the triangles.

CH And now what I’m doing, which I find interesting, is that I am using the canvas, the textile, and so they are completely monochromatic now, one color and the canvas – and the canvas of course is a color. But it adds a little texture, which I had never used. It is the first time I am using the texture of the canvas, and it is fun to do.

HUO I like these very much as well – Blanco y Verde, they are very beautiful.They often use a triangle and then you double the triangle. Can you tell me about this triangular shape – how did this come about? It appears a lot.

CH [Laughs] Oh you know you ask these questions!They make me think, “I don’t know why!” Maybe it is a mood kind of thing, probably, because I am so sure of myself, and very few times I have been wrong about it.

HUO This is very interesting here, because

it becomes almost like sculpture, it has three- dimensional elements. Can you tell me what happens here, because here it becomes wood?

CH Yes, that’s wood. You see; I got a grant. In my already long career I have had two grants.

I could work for two years, with the help of

carpenters and whatever I needed, and it was interesting. But then, I didn’t have any more money, so I went back to painting. It’s cheaper:

canvas and paints, that’s it.

HUO So you did them in the early 70s.

CHThis is another one… I made that into a hanging thing, a yellow one.

HUO These are obviously very Minimalist.What was your connection to Minimalism?

CH It was a depuration, actually. I realized that

painters talk a lot; they don’t verbalise but they are talking all the time. I had to stop talking; think a little bit more, and respect an idea that

I had. I had to forget about the trimmings and

go to the core of things, and, I tried to do that. Sometimes I succeeded; sometimes I did not. It is not easy, I tell you that. It is not easy at all.

HUO Can you tell me more about how this process of depuration started?

CH As a matter of fact there was a gentleman, Fredo Sidès; he was the president of the

Réalités Nouvelles. I knew him, and in order to join them you had to show them your work. So

I took my little canvas, I went to his studio in

Paris. And I showed it to him and he said, “Ah Madam, it is very nice, we are delighted,” and

I said “well fine,” And he said, “you know, you

have many paintings in this one,” and I felt very flattered. I walked out of his house, and about three blocks away it hit me; he is trying to tell me that I am talking too much in the painting. So he really began my process of depuration [laughs]. He helped me, and it was wonderful.Taking away, taking away. I had an American friend who was incensed – he hated it, me becoming more minimal in my work. He said “Carmen, you are going to end up painting a dot,” and I said, “Oh what a wonderful idea!”

HUO Architecture still interests you though?

CHYes.When you look at the Escorial – that is an incredible, beautiful piece of architecture. Most people say it’s so severe, but they like

Versailles. I mean,Versailles – it’s nice, let’s put

it that way – but for my taste it is too elaborate.

HUO You made a painting in 1974 which was inspired by the design for the royal palace El Escorial, and the torture gridiron of St. Lawrence. Can you tell me about this painting, because isn’t it an important painting of yours?

CH So it is called San Lorenzo de El Escorial. San Lorenzo, poor man, was barbecued – I am sorry to say this but he was barbecued! He was

a martyr. And practically all the great paintings

that I have seen, they always have a little – what

do you call those things where you roast people?

– a grill. And they always make it very little, and

it is always in the corner of the painting. And this is it. Only one person realized what it was, somebody who wrote a criticism of my work when I had the black and white exhibition.That’s why it’s called Escorial.

HUO And it is the same year as Avila. The black and white is interesting, because, you know Felix Gonzalez-Torres…

CH …We knew each other very well. He died so young, we were both Cuban so we were very well acquainted, it was a very friendly friendship. And then he died. I was devastated.

HUO He was a friend of mine as well. It was a big loss. He was a wonderful man and a great artist. He always said that revolution is a waste of energy.

CH He was right – absolutely. He was very successful at the end.

HUO At the end of his life he gained recognition, which was important. He also talked a lot about black and white. He made beautiful posters in black and white in Miami. And he told me that black and white, in our world full of media,

television and color, is a form of resistance. Would you agree?

CH I guess so. You know, I know very little about art. I like to make it, but … There are people who are so clever, I guess I am not. He had something at the Guggenheim Museum that was

a

pile of candy, and my friends used to go up to

it

a lot. He was a very nice man.

HUO What’s your next painting?

CH Well, I am working on this triptych, actually. I have two more paintings that go with it. And you cannot see it because of the plastic over it, but the canvas is raw. It has something to do with time, because I have always been fascinated by time.Time doesn’t exist actually. Arbitrarily we say “a year” but time is saying no, it is not a year. So I have these paintings called the past, the present and the future.That’s what I am working on now. I began with the past, and then the future, and now I am working in the present.

HUO And how are these three paintings – can you describe them to me? How do they look?

CHThe palette I am using is a little quieter –

I guess I am quieting through the years.The colors are different; the past is a smoky kind of thing, it is there but you don’t remember very well the past.The present is what you’re living, and the future you don’t know, and it is the only happy one because you don’t know. And I called

it Images of Time.

HUO So what is your favorite color at the moment?

CH Well, those fading kind of colors that I am

using for the triptych that you see there. It is not

a clean color, it is one I have been mixing with

more white, because of the fact that I am using the canvas as a color. Maybe I would say blue. Black and white and blue.

HUO And do you have a least favorite color?

CHViolet! Mixed colors I really don’t like. I like them clean out of the tube. You know,Tony has really rescued those drawings from the garbage

– actually from the garbage. And I said,Tony,

there is enough trash in the world; I don’t want to continue more trash. He’s very generous; he’s

a wonderful person.

HUO Can you tell me about your painting The equation from 1958. It’s like a mathematical equation, it’s a line.

CH It is an equation. I was terrible when I was

a child because I had a horrible woman teacher;

she was a tyrant. She frightened the whole class as soon as she got into the room. And I hated it.

But then, when I came to algebra, I fell in love with algebra.

HUO And that continued until now – because in your drawing that is algebra. And that’s one of your favorite paintings.

CH In fact, my lawyer bought it. I am glad; it is in good hands. Instead of being in some museum.

HUO One last thing I want to ask you is that

I found a quote from you that I love, which is,

“the initial point of departure in my work is a process of organization that follows the dictates of reason.The visual execution is contained within the latitude allowed by the order so established. It is a process that must choose among innumerable possibilities the one that balances reason and visual execution.” So that is your methodology?

CHYes, that explains the whole thing.

HUO So it always starts with a process of organization? And that is in these drawings?

CH Yes. You cannot just do it. You have to plan

it. I tell you, I have a lot – and it’s crippling – a lot of pain. I go to that table there, I’ll be working with my little drawings and my little numbers, as

I call them, and I forget all about it. Absolutely, it’s the best medicine there is.

HUO And do you write sometimes?

CH No, I never write. My mother was a writer and I never wanted to follow that path. My father was the editor of a paper; my mother was a writer, in a time when you were not supposed to

do things like that. It was not nice for a lady to be a writer! And she became a reporter, and this is about a century ago I am talking about. I said no,

I don’t want to do anything my mother did. If you

see over there a little painting of a rose – she was a beautiful painter! If I had known that she painted I would have become something else – a seamstress or something!

HUO Maybe there is a link?

CH Maybe – there is always a link. No matter how you fight it, it’s your genetics; it’s what you get.There is no escaping it unfortunately. If I could escape it I would have.

HUO Very last question. Do you think there is a spiritual dimension? Because I think there is a spiritual dimension in your geometry.

CHYes, I guess so.There have been many moments in my life where my faith has been a great help to me. And then – like every human,

I am very ungrateful – I forget about it until my next crisis. And then… n

«barnett newman was the most intelligent person i ever heard talk about art. he had a marvellous wife, and we used to get together for lunches and dinners and so on»

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francis alÿs the iceman cometh

words eduardo abaroa

Francis Alÿs, in collaboration with Raul Ortega, Zócalo, Mexico City, 22 May, 1999

Francis Alÿs in his studio in Mexico City On the final approach flying into Mexico

Francis Alÿs in his studio in Mexico City

On the final approach flying into Mexico City you get some idea of the sheer scale of this city, as it nestles in a bowl between low mountains. I am excited to visit this metropolis, home to a vibrant artistic scene and home to the artist Francis Alÿs, whose recent show at Tate Modern was met with such universal praise, and whom I am due to meet. Alÿs arrived in Mexico from Europe in 1986, having initially trained as an architect not as an artist. He had studied in his native Belgium, where he was born in 1959, and then in Venice before compulsory military service landed him in the Mexican capital to work on engineering projects.

Alÿs tells me that if he hadn’t been posted to Mexico City he would probably have continued to practice architecture. Instead, he settled in the downtown centro histórico, a ramshackle 15-block area of decaying colonial buildings, where he continues to live, and set about responding to the sights and sounds of its chaotic streets through films, photographs, paintings and performance.

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Entering his studio, one is plunged into an environment of rich greens, oranges and earthy hues – the punchy colours so typical of Mexico. For an internationally recognised artist, the studio is surprisingly simple and he has few assistants. A comfortable dining room where everyone assembles daily serves as the ‘think tank’ of the studio. We sit in his simple flat at the top of the building, talking about the city whose sounds rise from the street. This throbbing metropolis still provides both the people and the materials he needs to inspire his art, he tells me. He is charismatic but also challenging, seemingly tired from an increasing hectic travel schedule. He is generous, gladly enabling me to meet other artists from the city, including Eduardo Abaroa, who I ask to write the following text.

Here, Abaroa gives a fascinating insight into Alÿs’s response to the city, and his place in the thriving 1990s Mexican art scene. He looks at how this extraordinary city has helped shape one of the most compelling bodies of work of our time. KW

Turista , 1994 PeoPle Call it the Zócalo or the Plaza Mayor. it is a

Turista, 1994

PeoPle Call it the Zócalo or the Plaza Mayor. it is a 50,000-square-meter concrete square right at the heart of the capital of Mexico.the archaeologi- cal excavation site for the last aztec temple with its corresponding museum is located on the north-eastern corner, while a massive colonial cathedral limits it to the north. to the east lies the Palace of Government, which houses several important murals by the famous revolutionary painter, Diego Rivera.the Zócalo is almost completely flat, without benches, trash cans or

any other features except for a tall flagpole in the centre. every morning, a group of soldiers ceremoniously raise a huge green, white, and red flag, and during the course of the day, hundreds of busy people from the neighboring restaurants, offices and stores walk across the expanse of the Zócalo in every direction. on unusually hot days many of them stop for a rest right in the middle of the plaza, using the shadow cast by the flagpole as a shelter against the intense sunlight. almost 20 years ago, a Belgian architect-cum-contemporary-artist decided to make this city square the core of his

investigation. He could be spotted chasing an empty plastic bottle with a camera as it moved with the wind (IfYou Are aTypical Spectator, WhatYou Are Really Doing is Waiting for the Accident to Happen, 1996); gathering electoral propaganda to make a tent (Housing for All, 1994); or asking for a job at the gates of the cathedral along with masons and plumbers (Turista, 1996). the perpetrator of these actions, Francis alÿs, is today one of the most important artists of his generation. i hope that recalling the early nineties in downtown Mexico City does not sound nostalgic. a group of artists, curators and writers had discov- ered several urban shelters in the area, like a big

building in licenciado Verdad street which remains to this day on the verge of collapse after the 1985 earthquake. its apartments were ideal for artists. each of them had several dingy rooms for living, making art, and organizing parties. the rent was affordable.You only had to withstand disintegrating wooden floors, the con- stant noise of street vendors for most of the day and the occasional intrud- ing mouse. Some of the walls were so damaged that you could clearly appre- ciate the neighboring temple of Saint teresa through the cracks. other artists lived elsewhere, but gathered with their colleagues in nearby can- tinas like la opera and el Nivel, and danced until very late in el Bar león, or crowded the Salon des aztecas, a gallery which intended to show the young- est art around. the newcomers frequently invited their Mexican friends for drinks and private exhibitions. they all formed a community which shared the adven- ture of living and surviving the city. Many of them were expatriates, from Cuba, Chile, the UK, the United States and other countries, who seemed to be more comfortable in the dystopian atmosphere of the capital city than in their places of origin. among them, Francis alÿs became notorious very quickly for his intriguing paintings and sculptures as well as for the mellow

gatherings he organized, to drink mezcal, discuss books, tell stories like the legend of the bandit-saint Malverde, and complain about the Mexican authorities’ bureaucratic harassment of foreigners. Contemporary art was also an important topic of conversation, even if it was definitely marginal compared to what we see today. this creative and fashionable community was immersed in an ambigu- ous situation. Downtown Mexico City, with its symbols and traditions, was

a major location for the daily construction of national identity and an excel-

lent starting point to gain an understanding of the whole country. But it was also a relatively isolated system, with a very specific set of variables. the tremendous transformation taking place in the rest of the country could be disregarded up to a certain point within these few blocks of historic build- ings. the trendy version of postmodernity had mercilessly consumed every nationalistic image available. Mexican culture seemed to have succeeded

in making a dry pastiche of all its icons. Nevertheless, the intensity of the times demanded the recognition of specific sites

and situations, and the streets around the Zócalo eventually became a privileged laboratory for rein- venting the dormant principles of the avant-garde. artists and curators organized shows directly on the streets, in sordid hotels, old churches and cantinas.

«alÿs’s curiosity for daily life in the neighborhood was motivation for his artistic development»

tHe MeDia wHiCH artists used in Mexico during the nineties were varied and largely improvised. Some of them adopted a healthy dilettantism which, in the case of Francis alÿs among others, gave way to paths of prolific innovation.the focus had subtly shifted from the obsession with historical narra- tives to a very rich notion of site-specificity. Some

tactics of classic conceptual art were recycled. But nobody was pretending to be in the US or europe. this move eventually defined the most eloquent Mexican art of the decade. alÿs’s curiosity for the rhythms and processes of daily life in the neighborhood in which he lived was one of the great motivations for his sub- sequent artistic development.to his advantage, he allowed himself to listen and to see that which routine and custom made invisible to most people. Some of his very first works are based on the simple act of walking, as when he wandered through the streets putting pillows in the broken windows of abandoned buildings (Placing Pillows, 1990) or when he built a magnetic toy dog that picked up pieces of metal as he dragged it along the streets (The Collector, 1991–92). the strange objects constructed by alÿs are not pre- cious immobile fetishes to be passively contemplated. He uses them as

devices that have a function within a special situation. one example of this

is the Magnetic Shoes that he made specifically for his uninvited participa-

tion in the Havana Biennial in 1994.the artist walked around the city with the shoes which, in the same fashion as The Collector, picked up metal pieces from the floor. Passers-by were informed of the purpose of the magnetic shoes by means of a sandwich board that quickly had the artist surrounded

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Francis Alÿs’ studio in Mexico City by Cuban children. Seven Lives of Garbage (1995), meanwhile,

Francis Alÿs’ studio in Mexico City

by Cuban children. Seven Lives of Garbage (1995), meanwhile, alludes poeti- cally to the complex informal processing of garbage in Mexico City. For this work alÿs made seven colored bronze figures of a snail and then threw them in the trash to see if they eventually appeared on the stands of outdoor sec- ond-hand merchants. alÿs is still looking for the snails, of which he has

recovered only two so far, in the firm belief that at least some of the trash in Mexico City is carefully inspected by informal workers who then try to sell the objects they consider valuable.this still unfinished enterprise is a play- ful allegory of movement that actually takes into account an alternative mode of circulation for art. the piece evokes the tantalizing image of a per- son who might have a little bronze snail on a cupboard without knowing of its excellent potential in an auction. later on, the artist refined his investigation of the concrete social and economic relationships that a simple act may detonate. alÿs was intrigued at the amount of people who constantly transport

all kinds of things up and down the narrow streets around the Zócalo. the tight economy of the area has people carrying petty merchandise, ice cream carts, construction materials, heavy cardboard boxes, and even trays with food back and forth all the time. Many of his works relate to this fact, like Paradox of Praxis 1 (Sometimes Doing Something Leads to Nothing) from 1997 for which he pushed a big block of ice along the streets until it completely melted. the crucial point here is to make an argu- ment against the compulsory and pragmatic effi- ciency of post-industrial societies. as alÿs himself has stated, simplicity is one of the main objectives of each project – it is important that they can be easily narrated from person to person. in this

sense, the artworks are not just a specific object or collection of objects, but elusive events than can be made visible, narrated, interpreted and modified through media as diverse as painting, video, ani- mation, sound recordings, postcards, art reviews, and more.

version from the first copy.the process would be repeated several times.the emphasis was put not on the image itself, but on its capacity for reproduction. alÿs dwells frequently on the inevitable loss and distortion of information, which is perhaps more akin to the actual thought processes of humans than the illusion of completeness, stability and control achieved by mechanical reproduction. in one particular ongoing series of paintings, alÿs produces two identical works that are to be hung in different places in the same show,

with the object of causing a sensation of deja vu in spectators. in these works, the artist manages to claim viewers’ distraction and forgetfulness as an unexpected asset (Déjà vu, 1996 to the present). Many of alÿs’s works are inspired examples in lateral thinking. He excels in making a good point about a given problem by performing a certain negation of it. one example is the project The Loop (1997). when invited to propose a project about the border between the US and Mexico by the inSite festival, which was set at the point where San Diego

and tijuana almost meet, alÿs decided to go from Mexico to the US without crossing the border, by traveling south and around the world, through Chile, australia, Hong Kong and Canada, among others. ten years after his first artistic walks, alÿs understood his neighborhood laboratory in a much better way. in 1999 he made a video record- ing of the people standing under the shadow of the flagpole in the Zócalo. the piece is concerned with the dysfunctional nature of collective sym- bols as it gives evidence of how people are forced by the circumstances to find practical, unex- pected solutions to their problems. with a per- fectly tuned eye for finding unlikely allegories in seemingly banal situations, alÿs recorded an

almost imperceptible event. and yet the artwork can also be taken as a complex commentary on the unfulfilled promises of a catastrophic political system. the role that contemporary art played in the Mexican cultural context changed quickly at the turn of the present century. Some local artists began to get a lot of attention from curators in other countries and were invited to major exhibition venues. the works started to sell, the prices soared. this new situation elicited an ambivalent attitude from many artists, not least alÿs. in the sumptuous new exhibition space of the Jumex Collection, the most important in Mexico, located on the outskirts of Mexico City, alÿs clan- destinely let a small mouse loose (The Mouse, 2001). the intervention implied a lighthearted questioning of the role of artists in the face of an accelerated growth of the global art market. the same year alÿs sent a live peacock to represent him in the Venice Biennale (The Ambassador, 2001). the proud, colorful bird was let loose in the Giardini and elsewhere in this seminal art world event, while the artist remained in Mexico City, probably walking in his usual manner along its streets, or just staying at home. n

«alÿs dwells on the inevitable loss and distortion of information, akin to human thought processes»

iN MexiCo, FRaNCiS alÿs is usually considered part of a generation that favored video, performance and conceptual art and relegated the discipline of painting.the notion is odd, since he has consciously defined a unique style of painting with an original repertoire of elements, including besuited figures, dogs, tables and buildings which are involved in poetically absurd situations. the style was imitated directly from the handmade ads that still hang above some small businesses in the city. once again, simplicity and directness are the main characteristics. But alÿs’s images frequently transcend the inti- mate exercise of painterly concentration. His compositions can eventually be developed into projects that require intensive planning and collective effort. The Sign Painting Project (1993–97) consisted of commissioning some of his own works to be copied by commercial painters. this basic plan initiated a process of reproduction and transformation, as each painter copied alÿs’s painting with a personal touch, always with subtle variations in color, shape and format. a second painter was commissioned in turn to paint his own

Francis Alÿs: A Story of Deception, at Wiels, Brussels, November 9, 2010– January 30, 2011; then MoMA, New York, May 8–August 1, 2011

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Above: Bridge (Snails) , 2002 Below: Paradox of Praxis (Sometimes Doing Something Leads to Nothing)

Above: Bridge (Snails), 2002 Below: Paradox of Praxis (Sometimes Doing Something Leads to Nothing), Mexico City, 1997

Bridge (Snails) , 2002 Below: Paradox of Praxis (Sometimes Doing Something Leads to Nothing) , Mexico

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All images courtesy the Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston

DR LAKRA

WORDS IGGY CORTEZ

From tribal tattoos to gang signs, inked pin-ups to defaced dolls, Dr Lakra’s art is changing our assumptions on how ‘crossover art’ is defined, as his recent one-man show at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston has successfully shown.

WHO ISN’T FAMILIAR with the cliché of the body as a canvas, but what about the canvas as a body?Turning such commonplace notions on their heads seems to drive the curious practice of Jerónimo López Ramírez, better known as Dr Lakra.The artist earned his catchy nickname from the elegant doctor’s bag he used to carry his equipment in when he began tattooing professionally in the 1990s, while Lakra is slang for both scar and delinquency (and what two words together could better sum up the edgy, slightly masochistic appeal of tattoos?). His sexy, dream-like ink drawings are not limited to the skin of his lucky clients, but have also sprawled over into vintage tear-sheets of pin-up girls and Mexican wrestlers, plastic dolls and Japanese prints, and even the walls of the Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston, where the artist has recently had his first American retrospective that was widely popular with audiences and critics alike. But Lakra’s story is not that of a typical crossover artist, innocently thrust into gallery world fame overnight. From his very artistic beginnings, he was actively participating in Mexico’s dynamic art scene – entering the underground world of tattooists as a respected draughtsman rather than the other, possibly harder, way around.The son of the eminent graphic artist FranciscoToledo, Lakra also studied with Gabriel Orozco in the 1980s in now legendary weekly workshops in which artists like Damián Ortega, Abraham Cruzvillegas and Gabriel Kuri also participated. In fact, when Jose Kuri and Monica Manzutto opened Kurimanzutto Gallery, widely considered the most influential gallery in Mexico today, Dr Lakra was one of the first artists invited to their stable. But despite such eminent forefathers and influential peers, Lakra’s work is impossible to map in relation to either his predecessors or contemporaries’ influences. He has channeled his high-and-low art aesthetic into a deeply singular artistic vision – a compelling mishmash of the freakishness of cabinets of curiosities with vintage pulp fiction set to the torrid dreaminess of an opium-cum-dive bar. His range of references is deliberately expansive and international in scope, as he has traveled from California to the Philippines and New Zealand to study different tattooing styles and techniques, frustrating any facile attempts to contain his work within an exclusively Latin- American context. By displacing tattoo designs into the surfaces of found objects, and appropriating widely trafficked images such as commercials or toys as if they were flesh to be incised, Lakra explores the timeless fascination of this vernacular art form on a collective, and universal, unconscious. At its best, his work begins with the specific subculture of tattooists to then interrogate broader themes on self- fashioning, creating unexpected correspondences between notions of individualism and national tradition, the tattoo’s cult of rebellion with the discipline required to achieve its demanding technical dexterity, and the comic book dreamworlds of adolescent boys with serious concerns on the eternal themes of cultural memory, violence and eros. Hip and unique as they are, the works’ broad appeal and undeniable cool shouldn’t lead to conclusions of faddishness. Dr Lakra’s works are punchy and popular, but for all their sudden impact, they do not fizzle out on repeat viewings, instead forming an image world of haunting, beautiful oddities as indelible as the artist’s ink on skin.

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carlos amorales taking the measure of earthquakes

IntervIew karen wrIght | PhotograPhs gregory allen

Carlos Amorales photographed in his studio in Mexico City, August 16, 2010

I

interviewed Carlos Amorales in his studio located in a small cul-de-sac aptly named Calle

Ideal in Mexico City. An almost secret gateway ends a narrow passageway lined with tall and graceful houses. Carlos tells me that there is a quite famous writer living here, as well as

designers and film people. The studio is surprisingly light and airy, reminiscent of an elegant Parisian apartment from the 1930s. The mood is much more modern though. A group of industrious young people are clustered in one room around a computer while in another room a young man painstakingly traces a photograph, all in preparation for Carlos’s next show at Yvon Lambert in NewYork. Carlos shows me the circular wall drawing composed by misshapen rulers that replicate the outlines of broken buildings from the cataclysmic 1985 earthquake in the Mexican capital. These rulers are being used as drawing machines, he explains, before taking me into a nearby room to talk in front of a large computer, which holds his Liquid Archive –

a huge repository of graphic images which has formed the basis of his art over the last decade.

Karen Wright Where were you born? Carlos amorales I was born in Mexico City, but I lived for many years in Holland. I left Mexico when I was 19 and I stayed in Holland until I was 34. KW Where did you study in Holland? Ca First in the Rietveld Academie, and then in the Rijksakademie. But then I stayed five more years – working. I don’t know if Holland is my favorite place, but in a way I like it.There is something I connect with. KWThere is a kind linear quality in your work, and I can see the relationship. Also, there’s a darkness about it, which is also very northern European, in a way.There is a definite Mondrian connection as well. Ca Sometimes I think I’m a Calvinist Mexican [laughs]. I learnt a lot there. You know Avis Newman – she was my teacher. And once I was completely chaotic, and totally desperate and confused. And she was looking at me, and said ‘Carlos, you have such a mess! And I think the studio is a reflection of the mind of the artist.’ KW So you studied only there, you didn’t study here in Mexico? Ca Both of my parents were artists. So I already had a kind of school at home. KW Were they painters? Ca More conceptual. My father did installation art. But in the seventies they were more into these groups of political art.They are not like real painters, more like graphic artists. Not like Mexican traditional painters, but… I felt I had a big influence from them. KW Is that one of the reasons you left Mexico? Ca We’re quite similar in a way. But my mother was an artist, too. So if I turned right, there was my father, if I turned left it was my mother! If I was rational, it would be my father, if I was emotional, it would be my mother. I felt trapped, really. If it was only one of them, I could be always against them. But they were also quite different in a way. So that’s why I felt like I needed a big distance. I also changed my name. These strategies were really to distance myself. KW When did you come back, and why? Ca I came back in 2004. We had a child. That was the main reason. I decided it was much easier to be here and have a family, and support it. KW Did you come back straight to this house? Ca No, this was a house for my mother, and she went to live in the north of Mexico, because she’s from there. KW So you kicked her out! Ca Basically! I had another studio before; I’d never worked in a studio before, because I did

performance for seven years, and then I worked more from my laptop, as it was more about organizing things. But the moment I became a father and we started a family and came back to

Mexico, I thought, ‘Well, if you can leave me this space.’ But also, I really need to work with people,

I like that the most. Even if I’m alone, I need to

connect with people. I never felt like I was a gifted draftsman or I had a talent to make art by

myself. I never felt comfortable doing it alone. A lot of the performance was very collaborative, with musicians. But I always needed this kind of, almost… directing. If you need to tell people, and arrange things, I like that! KW It’s more like making a movie. Ca In a way, yeah. I always felt that I cannot end up as an artist because I was too lazy to do something else. It was somehow part of my upbringing. So I always desired something else, but I always end up doing this. For instance,

I really like film, I’m a good storyteller with

images, but I’m not a good storyteller with writing. So I don’t see how to make a film. But I think, ‘OK, maybe I can put that energy into creating different ways of working.’ And this archive of images started more with the intention to do animations, but there are different typographies to animals.To draw these segments was really very painful, and really boring work, and I thought that I had to rescue

it. I wanted to draw a tree – so I said, ‘OK, let’s save it somewhere, so I can reuse it later.’That’s how the archive started. KWThat’s the pleasure with computers – the storage. CaYeah, copy and paste, reusing. But through the years the archive became a subject, because

I started to understand it, and different aspects

of it. Even from the sources, because the sources are mostly started from photographic images. KW And of course all this stuff has a very Mexican iconography. Ca And at the same time, yes. And not! KW In the collages that you showed me before there are elements of Surrealism, of Man Ray. Ca Last year I did research on Jean Arp, and I went through Europe to see all these foundations, then I discovered that, of course, it’s not digital, but he had a sort of archive of forms that he used to make drawings. Almost 100 years ago this guy was doing this – it’s super interesting, because that was the first time I found a direct lineage, especially with Dadaism, because I work a lot with posters and stuff. KWTell me about the work with the butterflies, or are they moths?

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because I work a lot with posters and stuff. KW Tell me about the work with
because I work a lot with posters and stuff. KW Tell me about the work with
because I work a lot with posters and stuff. KW Tell me about the work with
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Ca When my grandmother was dying, she used to live in the north of Mexico, where my mother is now, I went there to kind of say goodbye. I knew it was going to be the moment, or close. So I took my children– it was a very emotional, personal moment. And being there one night, trying to sleep, I had this image of a vaulted place full of butterflies. And it was a very strong image. So I came back from this holiday, and I start to work on it, and we started to think how to make them on paper. What we did was create this kind of template and start to cover the whole studio. And basically it took us like eight months, and we start to empty the studio as this thing was taking over, so then we packaged it, and we sent it toYvon Lambert in NewYork. So that became the show. KWThe butterflies were in the offices as well ? CaYes, not only the exhibition area, but also the non-public areas. KW Did your grandmother die during this period? Ca She died two months later. So it was a very emotional thing, like a film. But then it started to travel from my mind, to the archive, to the studio, and then the gallery, and then it went to this exhibition space in Miami and the show was on during the art fair. And then from the art fair, it went into the museum. KW Where? CaTo the Philadelphia Museum. Do you know the museum? It has all these Mondrians. I had to work in one room, but also in the connected spaces. But they also allowed me to work in relation to other works. KW Wow, Mr Mondrian! Ca Yeah! My revenge on Holland! And from the Museum it went to collectors. So this is the house of the Halleys, the collectors, in Scotsdale, Arizona. So there I felt it’s really doing the standard travel of an artwork – from yourself, to the studio, to the gallery, to the

art fair, to the museum, to the collectors. It’s so strange, because it was really not like that on purpose. A year later I got this email from

a curator. It said, ‘Did you do this installation

in Dior In Paris?’ I was like ‘What?! No!’ So I started researching, and finding more images, and I was, like, ‘Wow, you know, what’s going on? Is this right or wrong, legal or illegal?’ [Showing images on screen] And from there, the fabrics!This is Diane von Furstenberg, so she took them from Dior. KW A plague of black butterflies!This is on the high street, it’s onTopshop! Ca But then, some months before, I went to my mother’s and my grandmother’s, I was reading

a book by W.G. Sebald called Austerlitz – it’s a

very dense book, beautiful. I gave it to my wife and she started reading it, and a year later, she said, ‘Did you see the moth in Sebald’s book? I went to look and I found that in Sebald’s

book there is an image of a moth, and there is

a description of how beautiful moths are for

him, and how they fly. In a way, I think I was reading the book, and unconsciously I took it when I went to see my grandmother, and maybe

that situation where she was, and it just came. So then I was thinking: whose image is this originally? Because maybe I also picked it up?

I made some kind of rip off of the book, where I

inserted my story. And the thing is that the story keeps going, it’s been growing and growing. The moth went to Dior, and from Dior it went to Diane von Furstenberg and then to Dolce and Gabbana, then to five smaller brands, and now, I’ve found one which is really super cheap.What is very nice is all the potential possibilities that this story can have. KW Tell me about your show at the Museo Amparo in Puebla, relating to their collection of pre-Hispanic art. Ca It’s the second largest collection in Mexico City, and it’s the largest private collection, but

it’s 3,000 pieces –the Anthropology museum [National Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City] has a million pieces! But still, the Museo Amparo is quite big. It’s a collection that they got from somebody else, they didn’t collect it themselves. But they started this museum in the nineties. And this display is so old-fashioned. When you start to analyze, you see that there is really a lot about trying to show power and hierarchies. But then you also start to go into what is written and what is talked about, and you

see it’s super empty, that basically it says nothing

– it’s common knowledge. It starts to become a

very strange experience between this grandeur and emptiness.They said, ‘You can work with

that’. I thought, I have 3000 images in my archive

– could I work with their collection with the same

freedom with which I work with my archive? Can I activate it like that? So I started to find some images that I could connect to my own archive; a mask, the pregnant woman, different things. And I had to reclassify their collection according to my own rules, to compare my archive to their collection, and then classify it, and start to work with it, or mess it up. And that is when I started to make my own archive into objects. I had to level them to the same sort of thing, and also to start playing with it. And then we started to compose – to say, ‘OK, with that image, create meaning.’ Like mixing a head of a wolf and a head of a woman – how can I do it? All the time, we had to work from images, but not from the real stuff. Then I also started to write these sentences, rules about how I could work, what I wanted to do, like playing with toys as a kid. KW Did you use resin or plaster? Ca Plaster. And then we made them very carefully. Even if they were replicas, they still kept their very symbolic, heavy meaning, KWThey weren’t removed enough, really. Ca Exactly. And that is where the idea of painting them became strong. It was a simple

«i feel that there are little subjects or situations that work in the relationships that you establish with other people through your work»

51

thing; the moment they were painted, they became something else. KW Is that the first time you started using these colors? CaYeah. I’m not prepared yet, I still need to make steps towards that point. I think I have made a leap. KW.There’s a big leap from the previous material. But there are a couple of steps missing. Are you going to fill those in? Ca I started to play with the forms and then I realized there were some forms I have seen in anthropology museums that were kind of similar, so I went back and I found them, and it is funny how you are carrying this knowledge within yourself without knowing. I had to question what a museum is, what they were doing, and how they were treating and dealing with the Pre-Hispanic. But to do it, I felt I had to do it to myself, too. Because otherwise I would just say. ‘OK, I’m right and you’re wrong!’ I had to collapse my own work.The idea was to collapse it, to break it, to fragment it, to mix it. KWTo reassemble. Ca It’s true that you see the connections [with

older works]. But also the act of painting in a way is also like masking. It’s not really adding color. It’s adding form and it is like ugly plastic. And then I finish with a mirror surface. KW So this is bang up to date.This new piece, tell me about it. Ca What I’m doing now is to translate all these images I’ve been showing to you into drawing, with this machine I was showing you. Because

I also felt that until I translate the whole thing

to drawing, I cannot break loose of this whole internet/copy situation. KW So with the first thing you showed me, the ruler piece, the wall drawing has been done here on the wall so it’s obviously not traveling,

but will that eventually leave the studio, like the butterflies did? CaYes, that’s the idea. I’m preparing it for

a show.

KW What made you explore the earthquake as

a source of imagery?

Ca What I found is that there was a link in my

history, where it came kind of back there. For instance, the question, why is my work so dark? Why there is always this catastrophic thing, and always fragmentation, re-composing, like the mirror in the show in London [atYvon Lambert’s short-lived gallery in Hoxton Square in 2008].These subjects always come back. And then I was wondering if it has to do with the impact of the earthquake. Because of course, we had the social dramatic horror, but there was also a very strong aesthetic moment.

I can say it was very beautiful to see all these

buildings collapse. KW And the rulers are a structure to build on? Ca I’ve been starting to think more and more about tools, or what is a tool? Because I always work with digital images, I feel I need to find a different approach to the work so I can – KW Refresh yourself again? Ca Yeah. You establish a system, and you need

to question it. Otherwise, you just keep doing it.

It can become a successful system, and maybe

you can become recognized for it. But then it becomes worrying, in a sense. It’s very classic. I

think a lot of art and artists have been like that.

I became well known with wrestling, and then I

was only asked to do wrestling, but I really felt that I would only repeat myself if I keep doing it. Coming back to the earthquake and how I think it’s almost a root in my own development, my own work – I was thinking about the cracks and how the buildings cracked and collapsed, and what I started to do was to trace those cracks and start to understand how it worked, and then I got this idea of making rulers with them, which I like, because we think of the ruler as a straight form. So I read when it’s made like that it becomes chaotic. KW It becomes a bit of a waste of a ruler! CaYeah, it’s the opposite. But the strange thing is that when you start to do the drawing, it becomes very organized. KW Again, it’s about limitations and rules and restrictions. It’s the kind of conceptual element again, and the aesthetic is very beautiful, but then you realize what the aesthetic is, and you think, ‘Oops, that’s not a very beautiful idea’, because people were killed in the quake. It’s about the push-pull between the aesthetic and the tough meaning.

Ca But we also benefited from it. Of course, some people died, and it was terrible. But, as a society, it was the first time we lived in solidarity, and it was amazing. And we got a new government. KW And new buildings! Ca Since the archive was my tool for so many years, almost ten years, I was thinking through that tool. I thought, what if I made that archive physical? My intention being a radical one – to make all these tools, to the point where I can erase the archive. Where I can just say I don’t want to see it anymore, I can put it away, nobody will use it. And then for me it’s interesting because the tools are breakable, they have

different possibilities. And, as you say, it starts limiting your work. You can do this but not that. But this can push you into a way of working. And that is what I’m trying to find. KW How hands-on are you on the studio? Ca A lot of people ask me about Warhol’s Factory or Murakami, and of course work like this so graphic and reproducible it has that potential, but, honestly, I don’t feel interested in that. I don’t want to make it into a factory, or

a business. I feel I’m more interested in other

parts of that process. Not that I don’t like this industrialization – it’s interesting. Also, I’m not saying I’m anti-capitalist, or anti-selling my work, I like to do it. KWYeah you have a family, you have a house. Ca And you have the studio! It’s very important. It’s absolutely not the question. But I like this, somehow I feel that there are little subjects or situations that work in the relationships that you establish with other people through your work. And as an artist, in your small way, you define your world. And you have an effect on people, at least in this interaction. n

Carlos Amorales, Yvon Lambert, New York, October 23–November 2010

52

effect on people, at least in this interaction. n Carlos Amorales , Yvon Lambert, New York,
effect on people, at least in this interaction. n Carlos Amorales , Yvon Lambert, New York,
effect on people, at least in this interaction. n Carlos Amorales , Yvon Lambert, New York,
53
53
53
53
53

Stella: © ArS, nY and DAcS, london 2010. niemeyer: courtesy the São paolo Biennal 2010. noland: © estate of Kenneth noland; DAcS, london/VAGA, new York 2010. clark: courtesy the lygia clark Foundation

object lesson: lot 169

Words amanda stoffel

AmericAn pAinter neil WilliAmS is primarily known for his move away from the rectangular canvas. Williams’s departure from traditional representation into abstraction was in part inspired by his studio partner in the late 1960s and 1970s, Frank Stella. the two painters and their compatriots tested the boundaries of geo- metric forms, at the time that new strands of abstraction – Hard edge painting, color Field, and lyrical Abstraction – swept new York following the first wave of Abstract expressionism. After being included in several mid-sixties shows organized around the shaped canvas theme, Williams left new York city and retreated to Sagaponack, nY. His method became more painterly and less abstract, until it evolved into the more recognizable and admired style of his later career. in 1982,Williams was invited to exhibit in the São paulo Biennial, which exposed him to a novel culture that profoundly influenced his later work. Brazil’s lush flora and fauna prompted a synthesis of brightly colored vibrancy and angular architectural elements. Williams integrated Brazil’s wildlife into the texture of the work with a new technique of applying the dried skin of acrylic paint directly on the canvas.this fusion of the tropical and architectural is exemplified in the bright floral motifs and geomet- ric anatomy of Bloco de Troncoso (1982). eyes freshened by his first visit to Brazil in 1982, neilWilliams benefited from a working visit to the São paulo estate of collector Kim esteve. edward leffingwell, scholar and corresponding editor for Art in America, told phillips de pury: “there, Williams worked with a skilled carpenter to construct complex bars and stretch can- vases suitable to an improvised terrace studio. A single-motor airplane visit to mato Grosso, followed by a stop in the then isolated beach town of trancoso (Bloco de Trancoso alludes to an annual beachside parade) served to vivify his palette in the years remaining to him following his definitive move to Brazil. the lively embrace and upthrust grid of this painting suggest an informed collision of beachside Hamptons and Brazilian festival. not incidentally reflecting his affinity for the latin American neo-concrete movement, such playful motifs occur in much of Williams’ work to follow.” Before his unexpected death in 1988, Williams expected to take up permanent residency in São paolo. His love of Brazil came full circle in 1989, when the 20th São paulo Biennial exhibited his paintings made in Brazil from 1982 until his death. Bloco de Troncoso was included in this exhibition. n Neil Williams 1934–88, Bloco de Troncoso, 1982

n Neil Williams 1934–88, Bloco de Troncoso , 1982 Frank Stella , with whom Williams shared

Frank Stella, with whom Williams shared a studio, used color, geometric pattern and abstraction, such as in Ten Works by Ten Painters, Untitled (Rabat) (1964) above, to pursue the Modernist ideal of self-reflexivity.

above, to pursue the Modernist ideal of self-reflexivity. Lygia Clark , while also working with abstraction,

Lygia Clark, while also working with abstraction, used bold geometric forms, dramatic color contrasts (as in her work Composition, 1953, above), and her interest in audience perceptions, to very different ends to those of Williams’s American forbears.

different ends to those of Williams’s American forbears. The São Paolo Biennal , which takes place

The São Paolo Biennal, which takes place in Oscar Niemeyer’s Ibirauera Park Pavilion and is now in its 29th edition, had a profound impact on Williams’s art. His exposure to the dynamic color and rhythm he found in the work of Brazilian artists fused with his earlier interests in Color Field painting and lyrical abstraction.

54

in Color Field painting and lyrical abstraction. 54 Kenneth Noland is the artist most closely associated

Kenneth Noland is the artist most closely associated with Color Field painting. Like Williams, he was also a pioneer of abstract painting on geometric, shaped canvases, such as Drough (1965), above.

Allora & Calzadilla: courtesy David Regen © Allora & Calzadilla, Gladstone Gallery, NewYork

news

© Allora & Calzadilla, Gladstone Gallery, NewYork news SãO PAULO The 29th São Paulo Biennial (September

SãO PAULOThe 29th São Paulo Biennial (September 25 – December 12) engages with the ever-changing geopolitical landscape, not only by abandoning a structure that organizes artists by nationality but also by exploring the city’s role as an emerging global megalopolis by extending the Biennale’s activities from its permanent site, Oscar Niemeyer’s Ibirapuera Park pavilion, to different venues throughout the city.Tackling the fusion of art and politics, and the importance of defining the difference between these two spheres, the Biennial will show the work of socially-engaged artists such as the Puerto Rican duo Allora and Calzadilla, whose work Stop, Repair, Prepare: Variations on “Ode to Joy” for a Prepared Piano, above, examines the relationship between sound and militarization.

56

Whiteread: courtesy the artist and Gagosian Gallery, London. Richter: courtesyThe Drawing Center. Ortega Ayala: © Raul Ortega Ayala, photo Damian Griffiths. Kuitca: courtesy SperoneWestwater, NewYork

news

Griffiths. Kuitca: courtesy SperoneWestwater, NewYork news LONDON RachelWhiteread is renowned for her haunting

LONDON RachelWhiteread is renowned for her haunting monumental works that play on the relationship between void and

presence.The exhibition of her drawings atTate Britain (September 8,

2010 – January 16, 2011) aims to orient her audience towards the more

intimate scale of her works on paper such as collages, drawings and sketches which, while not as widely seen as her more iconic works,

critically inform her sculptural and installation practices. Including a

1992 study for her well-known sculpture House, these rarely exhibited

works offer a valuable insight into the working methods of one of contemporary art’s most distinctive voices.

of one of contemporary art’s most distinctive voices. New YOrk Lines which do not exist, a

New YOrk Lines which do not exist, a retrospective of Gerhard Richter’s works on paper atThe Drawing Center (September 11– November 18), exhibits for the first time in the US the artist’s drawings. While best known for his dramatic, large-scale paintings, the exhibition brings into relief the drawings, sketches and watercolours, such as R.O., 22.1.1984, above, Richter has been producing for over five decades.These works range from abstract landscapes to technical renderings of installations, but all share the artist’s trademark experimental spirit in their play with perception and techniques.

57

spirit in their play with perception and techniques. 57 New YOrk Sperone Westwater inaugurate their new

New YOrk Sperone Westwater inaugurate their new headquarters at 257 Bowery with a show of new paintings by Guillermo Kuitca (September 22–November 6). In his new series, the Argentinian artist mixes abstraction with compositional aspects from past works such as floors plans, thorns, and fragments from maps, as in Philosophy for Princes III from 2009.These works’ monumental scale showcase the dramatic new architecture of the gallery.The artist’s landmark installation Le Sacre will also be on view in the gallery’s Moving Room, the much- talked about ‘floating’ exhibition space that shifts like an elevator between the second and third floors.

shifts like an elevator between the second and third floors. The hAgUe Competitive hot dog eaters,

The hAgUe Competitive hot dog eaters, theTwinTowers, religious iconography and cheese made out of human breast milk are all provocatively intertwined in Raul Ortega Ayala’s show Living Remains, at the Stroom Den Haag (September 12–November 7). The Mexican artist uses food to explore notions of the sacred and the abject, as well as the body’s role in the public sphere.The show is preceded by his performance of The Last Supper, in which twelve audience members will partake in a dinner that simulates what food historians believe the twelve apostles ate.

LATIN AMERICA

1pm

wednesday 29 september

2010

new york

phoTogRAphs

LoTs 1 - 52

ALGAZE, M.

ÁLVAREZ BRAVO, L. ÁLVAREZ BRAVO, M.

15, 16

7

8-14

ITURBIDE, G.

MODOTTI, T.

48, 49

17-21

 

MUNIZ, V.

41, 42, 44, 45

CRAVO NETO, M.

50

MURAY, N.

6, 30, 31

DOLRON, D.

46

SALGADO, S.

1-5, 47

 

SERRANO, A.

43

GARDUÑO, F.

32-38

GONZÁLEZ PALMA, L.

HAAS, E.

51, 52

22-29

58

YAMPOLSKY, M.

40

1 1 SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 Gold, Serra Pelada, Brazil , 1986. Gelatin silver

1

1 SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 Gold, Serra Pelada, Brazil, 1986. Gelatin silver print, printed later. 11 3/4 x 17 3/8 in. (29.8 x 44.1 cm). Blindstamp credit in the margin; signed, titled ‘Brasil’ and dated in pencil on the verso. Estimate $ 4 , 0 0 0 - 6 , 0 0 0

59

2 3 4 5 2 SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 Three Communion Girls, Brazil ,

2

2 3 4 5 2 SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 Three Communion Girls, Brazil , 1981.
2 3 4 5 2 SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 Three Communion Girls, Brazil , 1981.

3

2 3 4 5 2 SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 Three Communion Girls, Brazil , 1981.

4

5

2

SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 Three Communion Girls, Brazil, 1981.

4

Gelatin silver print, printed later. 11 5/8 x 17 3/8 in. (29.5 x 44.1 cm). Blindstamp credit

SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 Women going to the market in Chimbote, Ecuador, 1998. Gelatin silver print, printed later. 11 1/2 x 17 1/8 in. (29.2 x 43.5 cm).

in the margin; signed, titled ‘Brasil’ and dated in pencil on the verso. provenance

Blindstamp credit in the margin; signed, titled ‘Ecuador’ and dated in pencil on the

Acquired directly from the artist

Estimate

$ 5 , 0 0 0 - 6 , 0 0 0

3 SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 The Outskirts of Guatemala City, Guatemala, 1978. Gelatin silver print, printed later. 11 1/2 x 17 1/8 in. (29.2 x 43.5 cm). Blindstamp credit in the margin; signed, titled ‘Guatemala’ and dated in pencil on the

verso. provenance Acquired directly from the artist

Estimate

$ 4 , 0 0 0 - 5 , 0 0 0

verso. provenance Acquired directly from the artist

60

Estimate

$ 4 , 0 0 0 - 5 , 0 0 0

5 SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 Mexico (Man with Violin), 1984. Gelatin silver print, printed later. 11 1/2 x 17 1/8 in. (29.2 x 43.5 cm). Blindstamp credit in the margin; signed, titled ‘Mexique’ and dated in pencil on the verso. provenance

Acquired directly from the artist

Estimate

$ 3 , 0 0 0 - 5 , 0 0 0

6 7 6 NICKOLAS MURAY AMERICAN/HUNGARIAN 1892-1965 Frida Kahlo in New York , 1946. Carbon

6

6 7 6 NICKOLAS MURAY AMERICAN/HUNGARIAN 1892-1965 Frida Kahlo in New York , 1946. Carbon pigment

7

6 NICKOLAS MURAY AMERICAN/HUNGARIAN 1892-1965 Frida Kahlo in New York, 1946. Carbon pigment print, printed later. 14 3/4 x 10 7/8 in. (37.5 x 27.6 cm). Signed, titled, dated, numbered 13/30 and copyright credit by Mimi Muray, the artist’s daughter, in pencil on the verso. Numbered ‘13’ in ink on a printed description by Salomon Grimberg accompanying the work. Estimate $ 5 , 0 0 0 -7, 0 0 0

7 LOLA ÁLVAREZ BRAVO MEXICAN 1907-1993 Frida (Looking in mirror close up), 1944. Gelatin silver print, printed later. 8 1/8 x 7 in. (20.6 x 17.8 cm). Signed in pencil on the mount. Estimate $ 5 , 0 0 0 -7, 0 0 0

61

8 9 10 11 8 MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO MEXICAN 1902-2002 Parábola Óptica (Optic Parable) ,

8

8 9 10 11 8 MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO MEXICAN 1902-2002 Parábola Óptica (Optic Parable) , 1931.

9

8 9 10 11 8 MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO MEXICAN 1902-2002 Parábola Óptica (Optic Parable) , 1931.
8 9 10 11 8 MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO MEXICAN 1902-2002 Parábola Óptica (Optic Parable) , 1931.

10

11

8

MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO MEXICAN 1902-2002 Parábola Óptica (Optic Parable), 1931.

10

MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO MEXICAN 1902-2002 Untitled (Antenna and Cactus), 1940.

Platinum-palladium print, printed 1980s. 9 3/4 x 7 5/8 in. (24.8 x 19.4 cm). Signed and

annotated Mexico in pencil in the margin. literature Aperture, Manuel Álvarez Bravo:

Photographs and Memories, title page; The Museum of Photographic Arts, Revelaciones: The Art of Manuel Álvarez Bravo, pl. 14; Turner Publicaciones, Manuel Álvarez Bravo: 100 Years, 100 Days, pl. 2

Estimate

$ 6 , 0 0 0 - 8 , 0 0 0

9 MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO MEXICAN 1902-2002 La de Piru, 1978. Platinum-palladium print. 8 7/8 x 6 3/4 in. (22.5 x 17.1 cm). Signed and annotated ‘Mexico’ in pencil on the verso. Estimate $ 4 , 0 0 0 - 6 , 0 0 0

Gelatin silver print, printed 1970s. 9 1/2 x 6 3/8 in. (24.1 x 16.2 cm). Signed in pencil

on the verso. Estimate $ 4 , 0 0 0 - 6 , 0 0 0

11 MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO MEXICAN 1902-2002 Market Place, 1940s. Gelatin silver

print, printed circa 1955. 7 7/8 x 9 3/4 in. (20 x 24.8 cm). Credit stamp on the verso. Estimate $ 5 , 0 0 0 -7, 0 0 0

62

Born in Mexico in 1902, Manuel Álvarez Bravo was old enough to remember the Emiliano Zapata-led Mexican Revolution of 1910-1920, and mature enough to experience first-hand the ensuing consequential political reforms and the aesthetic movements that reflected them. As part of the new ideological landscape that favored the indigenous over the foreign and the populist over the elitist, emphasis on quintessentially “Mexican” characteristics became prevalent in art. Those included the heavy representations of labor (normally in relation to agriculture), holidays (most notably Day of the Dead), and, as we see in Lot 14, Álvarez Bravo’s Untitled (Cacti against sky), flora, usually in the form of maguey, agave, corn and cactus. The intention was monumentalize those elements deemed unworthy or lacking in sophistication heretofore, and infuse a sense of pride in the local characteristics of the land.

Álvarez Bravo continuously experimented with different types of subject matter across his career, but remained faithful to incorporating elements that typified the political landscape. Among his most famous images is La Buena Fama Durmiendo, 1938, a surrealist composition of a bandaged nude surrounded by cacti, commissioned by French Surrealist André Breton as a cover for his catalogue on Mexican Surrealism. In Lot 12, La Desvendada (The Unbandaged One), 1938, Álvarez Bravo depicts the same model, possessing unequivocally Mexican features, awake and erect, framed by a portal that she confidently and leisurely occupies. The image could be understood as both a reverence of non-Westernized beauty, as well as a playful wink at the staging behind social realist imagery.

a playful wink at the staging behind social realist imagery. 12 13 12 MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO

12

wink at the staging behind social realist imagery. 12 13 12 MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO MEXICAN 1902-2002

13

12 MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO MEXICAN 1902-2002 La Desvendada (The Unbandaged One), 1938. Gelatin silver enlargement print, printed 1940s. 9 3/8 x 6 1/2 in. (23.8 x 16.5 cm). Signed in pencil on the reverse of the mount. literature Getty Publications, Manuel

Álvarez Bravo: Photographs from The J. Paul Getty Museum, pls. 27-29 for a few variants

Estimate $15 , 0 0 0 - 2 5 , 0 0 0

13 MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO MEXICAN 1902-2002 Trabajadores del Fuego (Fire Workers), 1935. Gelatin silver print, printed later. 9 3/8 x 7 1/2 in. (23.8 x 19.1 cm). Signed and

annotated Mexico in pencil on the verso. literature Aperture, Manuel Álvarez Bravo:

Photographs and Memories, p. 48; Kismaric, Manuel Álvarez Bravo, pl. 80; Turner Publicaciones, Manuel Álvarez Bravo: 100 Years, 100 Days, pl. 39

Estimate $ 5 , 0 0 0 -7, 0 0 0

63

14 (actual size) 14 MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO MEXICAN 1902-2002 Untitled (Cacti against sky) , 1930s-1940s.

14 (actual size)

14 MANUEL ÁLVAREZ BRAVO MEXICAN 1902-2002 Untitled (Cacti against sky), 1930s-1940s. Gelatin silver print. 9 5/8 x 6 3/4 in. (24.4 x 17.1 cm). Signed in pencil on the verso. Estimate $15 , 0 0 0 - 2 0 , 0 0 0

64

15 16 17 18 15 MARIO ALGAZE CUBAN b. 1947 Carretas, Guatemala , 1979. Platinum-palladium

15

15 16 17 18 15 MARIO ALGAZE CUBAN b. 1947 Carretas, Guatemala , 1979. Platinum-palladium print,
15 16 17 18 15 MARIO ALGAZE CUBAN b. 1947 Carretas, Guatemala , 1979. Platinum-palladium print,

16

15 16 17 18 15 MARIO ALGAZE CUBAN b. 1947 Carretas, Guatemala , 1979. Platinum-palladium print,

17

18

15

MARIO ALGAZE CUBAN b. 1947 Carretas, Guatemala, 1979. Platinum-palladium print,

17

TINA MODOTTI ITALIAN 1896-1942 Diego Rivera mural study, 1926-1929. Gelatin

printed 2005. 7 1/2 x 7 1/2 in. (19.1 x 19.1 cm). Signed, titled, dated, numbered 4/12 and

annotated in pencil on the verso. provenance Acquired directly from the artist

Estimate $1, 5 0 0 - 2 , 0 0 0

16 MARIO ALGAZE CUBAN b. 1947 Cotton Candy, San Angel, Mexico, 1981. Platinum-

palladium print, printed 2005. 7 3/8 x 7 3/8 in. (18.7 x 18.7 cm). Signed, titled, dated, numbered 7/12 and annotated in pencil on the verso. provenance Acquired directly

from the artist

Estimate $1, 5 0 0 - 2 , 0 0 0

silver print. 9 1/2 x 7 3/8 in. (24.1 x 18.7 cm). Annotated ‘water color flower vendors’ in an

unidentified hand in pencil on the verso. Estimate $ 2 , 5 0 0 - 3 , 5 0 0

18 TINA MODOTTI ITALIAN 1896-1942 Diego Rivera Mural: Billionaries Club; Ministry of

Education, Mexico D.F., Third Gallery, 1927. Gelatin silver print. 9 1/2 x 7 3/8 in. (24.1 x 18.7

cm). Credit stamp on the verso. Estimate $ 2 , 5 0 0 - 3 , 5 0 0

65

19 (actual size) 19 TINA MODOTTI ITALIAN 1896-1942 Cactus Flower , 1926. Gelatin silver print.

19 (actual size)

19 TINA MODOTTI ITALIAN 1896-1942 Cactus Flower, 1926. Gelatin silver print. 2 3/8 x 3 1/5 in. (6 x 7.6 cm). Signed in ink on the recto; credit stamp on the verso. Estimate $10 , 0 0 0 -15 , 0 0 0

Despite her Italian background, Tina Modotti created a body of work in the 1920’s that was unmistakably Mexican in subject matter, treading a delicate balance between reverential and exotic. As such, her images were not taken as a foreigner looking in from the outside, but as one who had become fully integrated into the Mexican social-political zeitgeist. As the principal photographer for the publication Mexican Folkways until 1930, and undoubtedly engaging in an artistic dialogue with her lover at the time, famed American photographer Edward Weston, Modotti infused her images from the period with the Formalist sensibility that focused on line, light, and simplicity. In Lot 19, Cactus Flower, 1926, viewers are presented with an image that praises the beauty to be found in the mundane and the local, as the dainty white flower, like a tiny miracle, sprouts out of a cactus that unassumingly if elegantly curves along the lower edge of the photograph. The work is a testament of Modotti’s love for the country as much as her mastery of the Formalist style.

66

20 21 22 20 TINA MODOTTI ITALIAN 1896-1942 Gerard Murillo , circa 1930. Gelatin silver

20

20 21 22 20 TINA MODOTTI ITALIAN 1896-1942 Gerard Murillo , circa 1930. Gelatin silver print,

21

20 21 22 20 TINA MODOTTI ITALIAN 1896-1942 Gerard Murillo , circa 1930. Gelatin silver print,

22

20 TINA MODOTTI ITALIAN 1896-1942 Gerard Murillo, circa 1930. Gelatin silver print,

printed later. 17 3/8 x 14 in. (44.1 x 35.6 cm). Signed in ink on the recto; credit stamp on the verso. Estimate $ 6 , 0 0 0 - 8 , 0 0 0

21 TINA MODOTTI ITALIAN 1896-1942 Untitled (Cathedral), circa 1930. Bromoil gelatin

silver print, printed later. 4 1/2 x 3 in. (11.4 x 7.6 cm). Signed in ink on the recto; credit stamp on the verso. Estimate $ 2 , 5 0 0 - 3 , 5 0 0

22 LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 Lugar Sin Reposo, 1991. Hand- painted gelatin silver print with dried flower affixed to the mount in artist’s original frame. 32 x 46 in. (81.3 x 116.8 cm). Signed in ink on a label accompanying the work. One

from an edition of 5. provenance Schneider Gallery, Chicago

Estimate $7, 0 0 0 - 9 , 0 0 0

67

23 24 25 26 23 LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 Gustavo , 1999. Hand-painted

23

23 24 25 26 23 LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 Gustavo , 1999. Hand-painted gelatin

24

23 24 25 26 23 LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 Gustavo , 1999. Hand-painted gelatin
23 24 25 26 23 LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 Gustavo , 1999. Hand-painted gelatin

25

26

23

LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 Gustavo, 1999. Hand-painted gelatin

25

LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 La Mirada Crítica (The Critical Gaze),

silver print. 21 x 19 1/2 in. (53.3 x 49.5 cm). Signed, titled, dated and numbered 8/15 in

pencil on the verso. provenance Schneider Gallery, Chicago

Estimate

$ 3 , 0 0 0 - 5 , 0 0 0

24 LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 Anatomie de la Melancholie

(Anatomy of Melancholy), 1998. Hand-painted gelatin silver diptych with embroidered brocade. 38 5/8 x 39 in. (98.1 x 99.1 cm) overall. Signed, titled, dated and numbered 7/15

in pencil on the verso. provenance Schneider Gallery, Chicago literature Arena Editions, Luis González Palma: Poems of Sorrow, p. 147

Estimate $7, 0 0 0 - 9 , 0 0 0

1998. Hand-painted gelatin silver print and transparency. 19 5/8 x 39 in. (49.8 x 99.1 cm).

Signed, titled, dated and numbered AP 1/3 in pencil on the verso. One from an edition

of 15 plus 3 artists proofs. provenance Acquired directly from the artist literature Arena Editions, Luis González Palma: Poems of Sorrow, cover and p. 97

Estimate $7, 0 0 0 - 9 , 0 0 0

68

26 LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 Destino II (Destiny II), 2000. Hand-

painted gelatin silver print with embroidered brocade. 37 1/8 x 57 1/4 in. (94.3 x 145.4 cm). Signed, titled, dated and numbered 5/7 in pencil on the verso. provenance Schneider

Gallery, Chicago

Estimate

$ 6 , 0 0 0 - 8 , 0 0 0

27 28 29 28 LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 Lotería I: La Rosa (Lottery

27

27 28 29 28 LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 Lotería I: La Rosa (Lottery I:
27 28 29 28 LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 Lotería I: La Rosa (Lottery I:

28

29

28

LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 Lotería I: La Rosa (Lottery I: The

27 LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 La Imagen del Mundo (Image of the World), 1998. Hand-painted gelatin silver collage. 23 1/4 x 77 3/4 in. (59.1 x 197.5 cm).

Rose), 1989. Hand-painted photogravure. 17 3/8 x 17 1/2 in. (44.1 x 44.5 cm). Signed, dated

Signed, titled, dated and numbered 9/10 in pencil on the verso. provenance Acquired

‘1994’ and numbered EV 23/35 in pencil in the margin. provenance Acquired directly

directly from the artist literature Arena Editions, Luis González Palma: Poems of Sorrow, pp. 70-71

Estimate $7, 0 0 0 - 9 , 0 0 0

from the artist literature Arena Editions, Luis González Palma: Poems of Sorrow, p. 67

Estimate $ 5 , 0 0 0 -7, 0 0 0

69

29 LUIS GONZÁLEZ PALMA GUATEMALAN b. 1957 El Angel (The Angel), 1991-1992.

Hand-painted gelatin silver print. 19 5/8 x 19 3/4 in. (49.8 x 50.2 cm). Signed and titled in

pencil on the verso. provenance Acquired directly from the artist literature High Museum of Art, Chorus of Light: Photographs from the Sir Elton John Collection, p. 51

Estimate

$ 6 , 0 0 0 - 8 , 0 0 0

30 31 32 33 30 NICKOLAS MURAY AMERICAN/HUNGARIAN 1892-1965 Frida with Granizo , circa 32

30

30 31 32 33 30 NICKOLAS MURAY AMERICAN/HUNGARIAN 1892-1965 Frida with Granizo , circa 32 FLOR

31

30 31 32 33 30 NICKOLAS MURAY AMERICAN/HUNGARIAN 1892-1965 Frida with Granizo , circa 32 FLOR
30 31 32 33 30 NICKOLAS MURAY AMERICAN/HUNGARIAN 1892-1965 Frida with Granizo , circa 32 FLOR

32

33

30

NICKOLAS MURAY AMERICAN/HUNGARIAN 1892-1965 Frida with Granizo, circa

32

FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Basket of Light, Sumpango, Guatemala, 1989.

1939. Platinum print from Frida Kahlo As Seen by Nickolas Muray, printed 1994. 11 x 10 1/2 in. (27.9 x 26.7 cm). Signed, titled, dated, numbered 2/30 and credit by Mimi Muray, the artist’s daughter, in pencil on the verso. Accompanied by a printed letter from Frida Kahlo to Nickolas Muray with title and portfolio information. provenance From

the Estate of Nickolas Muray; to the John Stevenson Gallery, New York; to the present Private Collection, New York

Estimate

$ 3 , 0 0 0 - 5 , 0 0 0

31 NICKOLAS MURAY AMERICAN/HUNGARIAN 1892-1965 Frida (Icon), circa 1939.

Platinum print from Frida Kahlo As Seen by Nickolas Muray, printed 1994. 12 x 10 1/2 in. (30.5 x 26.7 cm). Signed, titled, dated, numbered 1/30 in pencil and credit by Mimi Muray, the artist’s daughter, in pencil on the verso. Accompanied by a printed letter from Frida Kahlo to Nickolas Muray with title and portfolio information. provenance From

the Estate of Nickolas Muray; to the John Stevenson Gallery, New York; to the present Private Collection, New York

Estimate

$ 3 , 0 0 0 - 5 , 0 0 0

Gelatin silver print, printed 2008. 17 3/8 x 13 1/2 in. (44.1 x 34.3 cm). Signed, titled, dated

and annotated in pencil on the verso. provenance Acquired directly from the artist

Estimate

$ 2 , 5 0 0 - 3 , 5 0 0

33 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Abrazo de Luz (Embrace of Light), Mexico, 2000.

Gelatin silver print, printed 2007. 13 1/4 x 13 1/2 in. (33.7 x 34.3 cm). Signed, titled and

dated in pencil on the verso. Estimate $ 2 , 0 0 0 - 3 , 0 0 0

70

34 35 34 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Virgin, Coroma, Sucre, Bolivia, 1990; and Agua,

34

34 35 34 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Virgin, Coroma, Sucre, Bolivia, 1990; and Agua, Valle

35

34 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Virgin, Coroma, Sucre, Bolivia, 1990; and Agua, Valle Nacional, Mexico, 1983. Two gelatin silver prints, one printed later. (i) 17 3/8 x 13 1/2 in. (44.1 x 34.3 cm) (ii) 18 x 13 7/8 in. (45.7 x 35.2 cm). Each signed, titled and dated in pencil on the verso. Estimate $ 2 , 0 0 0 - 3 , 0 0 0

71

pencil on the verso. Estimate $ 2 , 0 0 0 - 3 , 0 0
pencil on the verso. Estimate $ 2 , 0 0 0 - 3 , 0 0

36

35 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 The Blessing, Isla del Sol, Bolivia, 1990. Gelatin

silver print, printed later. 13 1/4 x 18 in. (33.7 x 45.7 cm). Signed, titled, dated and

annotated in pencil on the verso. provenance Acquired directly from the artist

Estimate $1, 8 0 0 - 2 , 2 0 0

36 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Musician in Nowhere, Escoma, Bolivia, 1990.

Gelatin silver print, printed 2005. 13 7/8 x 17 1/2 in. (35.2 x 44.5 cm). Signed, titled, dated

and annotated in pencil on the verso. provenance Acquired directly from the artist

Estimate $1, 5 0 0 - 2 , 0 0 0

37 37 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Selected Images from Witnesses of Time , 1989-1993.
37 37 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Selected Images from Witnesses of Time , 1989-1993.
37 37 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Selected Images from Witnesses of Time , 1989-1993.

37

37 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Selected Images from Witnesses of Time, 1989-1993. Three platinum prints, printed 1993. 7 x 9 3/8 in. (17.8 x 23.8 cm). Each with blindstamp credit in the margin; each signed, titled, dated, numbered 13/40 in pencil and portfolio credit stamp on the verso. Estimate $ 2 , 0 0 0 - 3 , 0 0 0

Titles include: Marco y Simona, Bolivia, 1990; Member of the Confraternity, Guatemala, 1989; Polvo Serna, mos palvo enamorado, 1993

72

38 40 38 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Selected Images , 1982-1990. Three gelatin silver

38

38 40 38 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Selected Images , 1982-1990. Three gelatin silver 40
38 40 38 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Selected Images , 1982-1990. Three gelatin silver 40
38 40 38 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Selected Images , 1982-1990. Three gelatin silver 40
38 40 38 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Selected Images , 1982-1990. Three gelatin silver 40
38 40 38 FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Selected Images , 1982-1990. Three gelatin silver 40

40

38

FLOR GARDUÑO MEXICAN b. 1957 Selected Images, 1982-1990. Three gelatin silver

40 MARIANA YAMPOLSKY AMERICAN 1925-2002 Selected Images, n.d. Three gelatin

prints, two printed later. Each approximately 8 7/8 x 12 in. (22.5 x 30.5 cm) or the reverse. Each signed, titled and dated in pencil on the verso. Estimate $ 2 , 0 0 0 - 3 , 0 0 0

silver prints. Each approximately 13 1/4 x 17 5/8 in. (33.7 x 44.8 cm). Each signed and titled in pencil on the verso. Estimate $ 2 , 0 0 0 - 3 , 0 0 0

Titles include: The Woman, Juchitan, Mexico, 1982; Sixto, alto de la paz, 1990; The Cloud, Jocotitlan, Mexico, 1982

Titles include: Four Black Sheep; The Blessing of the Chicken; Adornment

39 NO LOT

73

41 41 VIK MUNIZ BRAZILIAN b. 1961 Figo from Pictures of Chocolate , 2004. Digital

41

41 VIK MUNIZ BRAZILIAN b. 1961 Figo from Pictures of Chocolate, 2004. Digital color coupler print, flush-mounted. 53 x 46 5/8 in. (134.6 x 118.4 cm). Accompanied by a signed label. One from an edition of 5. Estimate $12 , 0 0 0 -18 , 0 0 0

74

42 43 42 VIK MUNIZ BRAZILIAN b. 1961 Djama Santos and Carlos Alberto from Pictures

42

42 43 42 VIK MUNIZ BRAZILIAN b. 1961 Djama Santos and Carlos Alberto from Pictures of

43

42 VIK MUNIZ BRAZILIAN b. 1961 Djama Santos and Carlos Alberto from Pictures of Chocolate, 2004. Digital color coupler print, flush-mounted. 42 1/2 x 59 in. (108 x 149.9 cm). Accompanied by a signed label. One from an edition of 5. Estimate $12 , 0 0 0 -18 , 0 0 0

43 ANDRES SERRANO AMERICAN b. 1950 Saint John the Baptist, 1998-2001. Dye destruction transparencey, flush-mounted to acrylic, in aluminum lightbox. 23 3/4 x 19 5/8 in. (60.3 x 49.8 cm). Signed, numbered 6/10 in ink, printed title and date on a gallery label affixed to the reverse of the lightbox. Estimate $ 4 , 0 0 0 - 6 , 0 0 0

75

44 45 44 VIK MUNIZ BRAZILIAN b. 1961 Pele - Soccer Ball , 2004. Digital

44

44 45 44 VIK MUNIZ BRAZILIAN b. 1961 Pele - Soccer Ball , 2004. Digital color

45

44 VIK MUNIZ BRAZILIAN b. 1961 Pele - Soccer Ball, 2004. Digital color coupler print, flush-mounted. 59 1/2 x 47 1/2 in. (151.1 x 120.7 cm). Accompanied by a signed label. One from an edition of 5. Estimate $12 , 0 0 0 -18 , 0 0 0

45 VIK MUNIZ BRAZILIAN b. 1961 Wanderer Above the Sea of Ashes, 1999. Dye destruction print. 38 1/2 x 29 1/2 in. (97.8 x 74.9 cm). Signed, titled, dated and numbered 10/10 in ink on a gallery label affixed to the reverse of the flush-mount.

Estimate $10 , 0 0 0 -15 , 0 0 0

76

46 46 DESIREE DOLRON DUTCH b. 1963 Cerca Villegas from Te Dí Todos Mis Sueños

46

46 DESIREE DOLRON DUTCH b. 1963 Cerca Villegas from Te Dí Todos Mis Sueños, 2002-2003. Color coupler print, Diasec mounted. 31 1/2 x 33 in. (80 x 83.8 cm). Signed, titled and numbered 4/8 in ink on the reverse of the aluminum

flush-mount. provenance Michael Hoppen Gallery, London

Estimate $15 , 0 0 0 - 2 0 , 0 0 0

77

47 48 49 50 47 SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 Sulfur, Indonesia , 1991. Gelatin

47

47 48 49 50 47 SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 Sulfur, Indonesia , 1991. Gelatin silver
47 48 49 50 47 SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 Sulfur, Indonesia , 1991. Gelatin silver

48

47 48 49 50 47 SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 Sulfur, Indonesia , 1991. Gelatin silver

49

50

47

SEBASTIÄO SALGADO BRAZILIAN b. 1944 Sulfur, Indonesia, 1991. Gelatin silver

49

GRACIELA ITURBIDE MEXICAN b. 1942 Amber, India, 1998. Gelatin silver print. 12 3/4

print, printed later. 11 3/4 x 17 3/8 in. (29.8 x 44.1 cm). Blindstamp credit in the margin; signed, titled ‘Indonesia’ and dated in pencil on the verso. Estimate $ 4 , 0 0 0 - 6 , 0 0 0

48 GRACIELA ITURBIDE MEXICAN b. 1942 Nuestra Senora de las Iguanas, Juchitan,

Oaxaca, 1996. Gelatin silver print, printed later. 22 1/4 x 17 7/8 in. (56.5 x 45.4 cm). Signed

in ink in the margin. provenance Acquired directly from the artist

Estimate

$ 2 , 5 0 0 - 3 , 5 0 0

x 18 1/4 in. (32.4 x 46.4 cm). Signed in ink in the margin; titled and dated in pencil on the

verso. Estimate $ 2 , 0 0 0 - 3 , 0 0 0

50 MARIO CRAVO NETO BRAZILIAN 1947-2009 Standing Nude, 1994. Gelatin silver print.

15 3/4 x 15 3/4 in. (40 x 40 cm). Signed, dated and annotated ‘AP’ in pencil in the margin; signed, dated and inscribed in pencil on the verso. One from an edition of 25 plus artist’s proof. Estimate $ 2 , 5 0 0 - 3 , 5 0 0

78

51 52 51 ERNST HAAS AMERICAN 1921-1986 Guerrero Province, Mexico, 1963. Dye transfer print, printed

51

51 52 51 ERNST HAAS AMERICAN 1921-1986 Guerrero Province, Mexico, 1963. Dye transfer print, printed 1992.

52

51 ERNST HAAS AMERICAN 1921-1986 Guerrero Province, Mexico, 1963. Dye transfer print, printed 1992. 17 1/2 x 26 5/8 in. (44.5 x 67.6 cm). Signed, titled, dated, numbered 6/30 by Alexander Haas, the photographer’s son, in pencil and Ernst Haas copyright credit

stamp on the verso. provenance Acquired directly from the Estate of Ernst Haas

Estimate $ 5 , 0 0 0 -7, 0 0 0

52 ERNST HAAS AMERICAN 1921-1986 Green Water, Mazatlan, Mexico, 1963. Dye transfer print, printed 1992. 17 5/8 x 26 3/4 in. (44.8 x 67.9 cm). Signed, titled, dated, numbered 3/30 by Alexander Haas, the photographer’s son, in pencil and Ernst Haas

copyright credit stamp on the verso. provenance Acquired directly from the Estate of Ernst Haas

Estimate $ 5 , 0 0 0 -7, 0 0 0

79

LATIN AMERICA

wednesday 29 september

2010

new york

DESIGN

LoTS 53 - 88

Bardi, L.B.

60

giLLon, J.

87, 88

CaLdas, J.Z.

53, 56, 57, 59, 78

mendoZa, p.

58, 72, 86

Campana, F.

54, 61, 62, 63, 64

Campana, H.

54, 61, 62, 63, 64

rodrigues, s.

66

CorneJo, m.

68, 69

 

sHoemaker, d.

65, 79

diaZ, d.

75

França, H.

70

Tenreiro, J. 82, 83, 84, 85

67, 71, 73, 81,

FriedeBerg, p.

55

 

ZaLsZupin, J.

74, 76, 77, 80

80

53 53 JosÉ Zanine CaLdas BRAZILIAN 1919-2001 Bench , circa 1970. Wood, cowhide. 31 1/4

53

53 JosÉ Zanine CaLdas BRAZILIAN 1919-2001 Bench, circa 1970. Wood, cowhide. 31 1/4 x 67 x 36 3/4 in. (79.4 x 170.2

x 93.3 cm). Side branded with Zanine. provenance Private Collection, São Paulo, Brazil; Important 20th Century Design, Sotheby’s New York, June 14, 2006, Lot 104 literature Suely Ferreira da Silva, Zanine: Sentir e Fazer, Rio de Janeiro, 1995, fig. 38

Estimate $15 , 0 0 0 - 2 0 , 0 0 0

81

54 54 Fernando and HumBerTo Campana BRAZILIAN b. 1961, b. 1953 ”Cake” stool , circa

54

54 Fernando and HumBerTo Campana BRAZILIAN b. 1961, b. 1953 ”Cake” stool, circa 2008. Stuffed animals, tubular steel. 29 x 47 1/4 x 47 1/4 in. (73.7 x 120 x 120 cm). Produced by Estudio Campana, Brazil. Number 33 from the edition of 150. One animal embroidered with “Campanas N˚ 33 / 150.” Together with a certificate of authenticity. provenance Private Collection, Sydney, Australia; Design 55,

Auckland, New Zealand literature Darrin Alfred, et al, Campana Brothers, Complete Works (So Far), New York, 2010, p. 286

Estimate

$ 2 0 , 0 0 0 - 3 0 , 0 0 0

82

55 55 pedro FriedeBerg MEXICAN b. 1936 “Hand and Foot” chair , 1960s. Mahogany. 36

55

55 pedro FriedeBerg MEXICAN b. 1936 “Hand and Foot” chair, 1960s. Mahogany. 36 in. (91.4 cm) high. Base signed in

marker with PEDRO FRIEDEBERG. provenance Hokin Gallery, West Palm Beach, Florida literature Cara Greenberg, Op to Pop: Furniture of the 1960s, New York, 1999, back cover and p. 109 for a similar example; Dina Comisarenco Mirkin, et al, Vida y Diseño en México: Siglo XX, Mexico City, 2007, p. 67 for a similar example

Estimate $12 , 0 0 0 -18 , 0 0 0

83

56 57 58 56 JosÉ Zanine CaLdas BRAZILIAN 1919-2001 Bench, from Universidade de São Paulo,

56

56 57 58 56 JosÉ Zanine CaLdas BRAZILIAN 1919-2001 Bench, from Universidade de São Paulo, M
56 57 58 56 JosÉ Zanine CaLdas BRAZILIAN 1919-2001 Bench, from Universidade de São Paulo, M

57

58

56 JosÉ Zanine CaLdas BRAZILIAN 1919-2001 Bench, from Universidade de São Paulo,

Moveis Artisticos Z, Brazil. provenance Universidade de São Paulo, São Paulo, Brazil

57

JosÉ Zanine CaLdas BRAZILIAN 1919-2001 Coffee table, 1970s. Vinhático. 12 1/8 in.

Brazil, 1950s. Cabreúva. 34 1/2 x 71 1/2 x 24 in. (87.6 x 181.6 x 61 cm). Manufactured by

(30.8 cm) high, 42 3/8 in. (107.6 cm) diameter. Estimate $ 8 , 0 0 0 -12 , 0 0 0

Estimate

$ 4 , 0 0 0 - 6 , 0 0 0

58 pepe mendoZa MEXICAN Rare cocktail table, 1950s. Glass, brass, turquoise enamel.

16 1/4 x 60 x 30 in. (41.3 x 152.4 x 76.2 cm). Estimate $ 5 , 0 0 0 -7, 0 0 0

84

59 59 JosÉ Zanine CaLdas BRAZILIAN 1919-2001 Dining table , 1970s. Peroba. 30 1/2 x

59

59 JosÉ Zanine CaLdas BRAZILIAN 1919-2001 Dining table, 1970s. Peroba. 30 1/2 x 120 1/4 x 43 1/4 in. (77.5 x 305.4 x 109.9 cm). Estimate $ 3 0 , 0 0 0 - 4 0 , 0 0 0

85

60 60 Lina Bo Bardi ITALIAN/BRAZILIAN 1914-1992 “Bowl” chair , circa 1951. Formed aluminum, painted

60

60 Lina Bo Bardi ITALIAN/BRAZILIAN 1914-1992 “Bowl” chair, circa 1951. Formed aluminum, painted iron, fabric, brass.

27 1/2 in. (70 cm) high. Manufactured by Ambiente, Italy. provenance Graphos Brasil, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil literature Marcelo Carvalho Ferraz ed., Lina Bo Bardi, São Paulo, 1996, pp. 76-77; Charlotte and Peter Fiell, eds., Domus Vol. III, 1950-1954, Cologne, 2006, p. 453

Estimate

$ 2 0 , 0 0 0 - 3 0 , 0 0 0

86

61 62 63 64 61 Fernando and HumBerTo Campana BRAZILIAN b. 1961, b. 1953 “Vermhela”

61

61 62 63 64 61 Fernando and HumBerTo Campana BRAZILIAN b. 1961, b. 1953 “Vermhela” chair
61 62 63 64 61 Fernando and HumBerTo Campana BRAZILIAN b. 1961, b. 1953 “Vermhela” chair

62

61 62 63 64 61 Fernando and HumBerTo Campana BRAZILIAN b. 1961, b. 1953 “Vermhela” chair

63

64

61

Fernando and HumBerTo Campana BRAZILIAN b. 1961, b. 1953 “Vermhela” chair,

63

Fernando and HumBerTo Campana BRAZILIAN b. 1961, b. 1953 “Anemone” chair,

circa 1998. Cotton rope, tubular stainless steel. 30 1/4 in. (76.8 cm) high. Manufactured

circa 2001. PVC tubing, painted tubular metal, chrome-plated metal. 25 1/4 in. (64.1 cm)

by Edra, Italy. Back with paper label “edra/vermhela.” literature Antibodies – Fernando

& Humberto Campana 1989-2009, exh. cat., Vitra Design Museum, Weil am Rhein, 2009, pp. 48, 51, 116-117, and back cover; Darrin Alfred, et al, Campana Brothers, Complete Works (So Far), New York, 2010, pp. 36, 128 and 260

Estimate

$ 3 , 0 0 0 - 5 , 0 0 0

62 Fernando and HumBerTo Campana BRAZILIAN b. 1961, b. 1953 “Célia” bench,

2004. Oriented strand board, painted metal. 28 1/4 x 47 1/2 x 22 in. (71.8 x 120.7 x 55.9 cm).

Produced by Habitart, Brazil. literature Darrin Alfred, et al, Campana Brothers, Complete Works (So Far), New York, 2010, pp. 98, 100 and 271 for other examples of Célia furniture

Estimate $7, 0 0 0 - 9 , 0 0 0

high. Manufactured by Edra, Italy. literature Antibodies – Fernando & Humberto Campana 1989-2009, exh. cat., Vitra Design Museum, Weil am Rhein, 2009, pp. 58 and 116; Darrin Alfred, et al, Campana Brothers, Complete Works (So Far), New York, 2010, pp. 30, 138 and 264

Estimate

$ 4 , 0 0 0 - 6 , 0 0 0

64 Fernando and HumBerTo Campana BRAZILIAN b. 1961, b. 1953 “Célia” coffee

table, 2004. Oriented strand board, painted metal. 12 x 59 x 19 1/2 in. (30.5 x 149.9 x 49.5

cm). Produced by Habitart, Brazil. literature Darrin Alfred, et al, Campana Brothers, Complete Works (So Far), New York, 2010, p. 271

Estimate $ 5 , 0 0 0 -7, 0 0 0

87

65 66 67 66 sergio rodrigues BRAZILIAN b. 1927 “Sabará” chest , circa 1965. Jacaranda-

65

65 66 67 66 sergio rodrigues BRAZILIAN b. 1927 “Sabará” chest , circa 1965. Jacaranda- 65
65 66 67 66 sergio rodrigues BRAZILIAN b. 1927 “Sabará” chest , circa 1965. Jacaranda- 65

66

67

66

sergio rodrigues BRAZILIAN b. 1927 “Sabará” chest, circa 1965. Jacaranda-

65 don sHoemaker AMERICAN/MEXICAN Pair of “Swinger” chairs, model no. F-23, 1960s. Rosewood, leather. Each: 32 1/2 in. (82.6 cm) high. Manufactured by Señal, Mexico

veneered wood, jacaranda, brass. 19 x 56 x 20 in. (48.3 x 142.2 x 50.8 cm). literature

(2). literature Señal, S.A., sales catalog, 1960s

Estimate

$ 4 , 0 0 0 - 6 , 0 0 0

Soraia Cals, Sergio Rodrigues, Rio de Janeiro, 2000, p. 254

Estimate

$ 4 , 0 0 0 - 6 , 0 0 0

67 JoaQuim Tenreiro BRAZILIAN 1906-1992 Low table, circa 1950. Marble, jacaranda.

11 1/4 x 33 1/2 x 42 3/4 in. (28.6 x 85.1 x 108.6 cm). literature Soraia Cals, Tenreiro, Rio de

Janeiro, 2000, p. 100

Estimate $7, 0 0 0 - 9 , 0 0 0

88

68 69
68
69

68 mariano CorneJo ARGENTINE b. 1962 Unique chair, 2003. Carved and painted wood. 26 1/2 in. (67.3 cm) high. Side incised with “MCORNEJO 03.” provenance

Galeria Palatina, Buenos Aires, Argentina exhibited arteBA 2004, Buenos Aires, Argentina, May 19-25, 2004

Estimate

$ 4 , 0 0 0 - 6 , 0 0 0

89

69 mariano CorneJo ARGENTINE b. 1962 Unique desk, 2005. Carved and painted wood. 31 x 35 x 25 in. (78.7 x 88.9 x 63.5 cm). Leg incised with “MCORNEJO 05.”

provenance Galeria Palatina, Buenos Aires, Argentina

Estimate $7, 0 0 0 - 9 , 0 0 0

70 70 Hugo França BRAZILIAN b. 1954 “Sirinhaem” chaise lounge , ca. 2006. Juerana wood,

70

70 Hugo França BRAZILIAN b. 1954 “Sirinhaem” chaise lounge, ca. 2006. Juerana wood, leather cord. Manufactured by Atelier Hugo França, Brazil. 36 1/2 x 72 x 28 in. (92.7 x 182.9 x 71.1 cm). Back of headrest impressed with “HUGO FRANÇA.”

provenance R20th Century, New York

Estimate

$ 2 0 , 0 0 0 - 3 0 , 0 0 0

90

71 72 73 71 JoaQuim Tenreiro BRAZILIAN 1906-1992 “Tree Trunk” bench , circa 1954. Vinhático.

71

71 72 73 71 JoaQuim Tenreiro BRAZILIAN 1906-1992 “Tree Trunk” bench , circa 1954. Vinhático. 73

72

71 72 73 71 JoaQuim Tenreiro BRAZILIAN 1906-1992 “Tree Trunk” bench , circa 1954. Vinhático. 73

73

71

JoaQuim Tenreiro BRAZILIAN 1906-1992 “Tree Trunk” bench, circa 1954. Vinhático.

73 JoaQuim Tenreiro BRAZILIAN 1906-1992 Pair of side tables, circa 1947. Garapa,

28 1/2 x 49 1/2 x 20 in. (72.4 x 125.7 x 50.8 cm). literature Soraia Cals, Tenreiro, Rio de

brass. Each: 17 1/4 x 35 1/4 x 13 3/4 in. (43.8 x 89.5 x 35 cm). Manufactured by Langenbach

Janeiro, 2000, p. 106

& Tenreiro Ltda., Brazil. Back of each table with paper label “Langenbach & Tenreiro

Estimate $10 , 0 0 0 -15 , 0 0 0

Ltda. / Rua da Conceição 147,” specifications, “Industria Brasileira,” and with “Brasil” paper label remnants. One table with three additional paper label remnants (2).

72 pepe mendoZa MEXICAN Set of three pendant lights, circa 1960. Brass, turquoise

enamel, paper (3). Largest: 33 1/2 in. (85.1 cm) high, variable drop. Estimate $ 4 , 0 0 0 - 6 , 0 0 0

provenance Pedro Scherer, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil literature Soraia Cals, Tenreiro, Rio de Janeiro, 2000, pp. 28-29 for a similar coffee table

Estimate $15 , 0 0 0 - 2 0 , 0 0 0