Showing posts with label Artes visuales. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Artes visuales. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 13, 2020

Miami Alternativo Videopodcast by Alafia Creative Entertainment & Artistnator-5 Chapters




Miami Alternativo es una serie limitada para podcast que surge de la colaboración entre Alafia Creative Entertainment y Artistnator.


Las entrevistas nacen a partir de la investigación de la Dra. Silot, fundadora de Alafia Creative Entertainment, y buscan presentar la visión de artistas en Miami y su relación con la cultura y el entorno que les rodea.



Nos encantó poder conversar con la Consue, referencia y maestra de tantos artistas cubanos. No todos los días se tiene la oportunidad de compartir espacio con una persona tan creativa e inteligente. La entrevista nos dejó saboreando esa visión aguda, aparente superficialismo con el que su obra coquetea, ese concepto y amor por la imagen movida y visual que transmite el lenguaje de Consuelo Castañeda.


Para conocer más sobre Alafia Creative Entertaiment:



Paraconocer más sobre Artistnator: http://artistnator.com/


1er Capitulo-Consuelo Castañeda




2do Capitulo- Niurka Marquez, Nu-Flamenco




3rd Chapter-Andrew Yeomanson-DJ SpamAllStars


4th Chapter-Sandra Ramos Lorenzo



Saturday, November 9, 2019

Miami Alternativo-Podcast Limited Series-Bilingual-Spanish & English. Alafia Creative Entertainment in collab with Artistnator












by Eva Silot Bravo 



Miami Alternativo is a limited podcast series created by Dr. Eva Silot Bravo, founder of Alafia Creative Entertainment, in collaboration with Artistnator.


The series is based on Dr. Silot Bravo's doctoral research on alternative and transnational art scenes in Miami and other world cities, including Havana, published as a doctoral dissertation by the University of Miami since August 2016. 


Miami Alternativo proposes 5 interviews to remarkable local and transnational talents Consuelo Castaneda, Sandra Ramos, Niurka Marquez, DJ Spam All Starts-Andrew Yeomanson, and Leslie Cartaya. 





These artists represent a sample of the amazing number of international outstanding talents who call Miami home and have been enriching the local art scenes in the visual arts, dance and movement, cultural promotion, non-profit, dance, live arts, music production, and performance.




These artists have developed oustanding professional and personal careers beyond mainstream markets, locally and transnationally. 






They are truly inspirational, by the level of mastering they have achieved in their artistic lives, and by being on the move, constantly updating their creative paths with the contexts and time they have been living in.


photos by Artisnator

AudioFiles-To Listen to each of the 5 chapters, Please Click on the Description bellow each picture.


Enjoy and Please Leave your Comments on this Blog, and our Website, FB, IG & Twitter:

#alafiacreativeentertainment #blogcubanidadinbetween #evasilot #TCAMS #Cubanfusion 

































5 episode. Interview to Grammy Nominated musician  Leslie Cartaya














Tuesday, May 1, 2018


Probably the most comprehensive festival about Cuban arts in the U.S. so far will take place this Spring, from May 8-20, 2018 at the Kennedy Center in Washington D.C.

The festival features a wide representation of Cuba artists, living in the island and in diaspora, throughout several fields like music, film, theater, visual arts, dance and performance. 



For more information about the Festival, including a detailed event schedule, please visit the following link:


Thursday, August 24, 2017

Leandro Soto

ABRE CAMINO QUE VOY: TO OPEN THE PATH

Inspirazione Italiana performance photograph by Mario Porchetta 
photo by Mario Porchetta

Performance installation by Leandro Soto
The divine Janus-Eleggua-The Joker is sleeping in the lobby of the theater before and after the Dance Program Final Presentation at the Errol Barrow Center for Creative Imagination, University of the West Indies in Barbados. His costume is red and black and full of symbols that represent communication, secret codes, and the duality of everything: to be awake or sleeping, Yin/Yang, day and night, good and bad, beginnings and endings, among other things. Thanks to the music of drums and chanting in Yoruba language he responds to the calls. The music awakens him. Moving up from the floor, he starts to dance. Giving candies to the audience, he starts to jump, moving rapidly like a child that is happy to be alive. He invites people to follow him. Drummers and the audience are moved to follow his steps in order to see the exhibition on display in the gallery space. Once in the gallery he is makes fun of things; he appropriates objects, cloths, pictures, etc. He models for the camera as a way to pull the attention of new generations towards the arts.
The performance was presented with the support of the Dance Program’s director Neri Torres.

Performance

Leandro Soto performing as Elegua at the Errol Barrow Centre - Barbados
  

Alexander Arrechea

A post shared by Alexandre Arrechea 💡 (@alexandrearrechea) on

A post shared by Alexandre Arrechea 💡 (@alexandrearrechea) on

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Dialogues in Cuban Art- A Symposium between Cuban and Cuban American artists from Havana and Miami.


By: Dialogues in Cuban Art and Perez Art Museum

Dialogues in Cuban Art is a two day symposium that explores the intellectual exchanges between Cuban and Cuban-American artists, curators and cultural workers from Havana and Miami. Some of the ideas guiding this convening will investigate emergent transnational relations between Cuban and Cuban American artists; explore an understanding of Cuban art beyond nation and diaspora; and address how opportunities for mutual understanding shape and inform cultural production. All three panel discussions will be simultaneously interpreted from English to Spanish.

Miami Program

PAMM: Day 1

Panel 1 – Introduction about the project: Elizabeth Cerejido
Shifting Perceptions, Transnational Movements between Miami and Havana
Panelists: Sandra Ramos, Alexandre Arrechea, Glexis Novoa, Emilio Pérez. Moderator: Elizabeth Cerejido

Panel 2 – Mapping the Development of Cuban Art in Miami: Private Consumption, Public Circulation
Panelists: Ramón Cernuda, Fred Snitzer, Peter Menéndez, Howard Farber, Moderator: Juan Martínez

Dialogues: Cuban and Cuban-American Artists in Conversation: Part 1
Humberto Díaz
Bert Rodríguez
Reynier Leyva Novo
Marcos Valella
Juana Valdés
Ruben Millares
Felipe Dulzaides

Wilfredo Prieto
Moderator: Rene Morales (Curator, PAMM)

PAMM: Day 2

El arte cubano a través del lente institucional: desde lo oficial a lo alternativo

Aylet Ojeda (Curator, Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes)
Ibis Hernández Abascal (Curator, Centro Wifredo Lam and part of curatorial team of the Havana Biennial)
Onedys Calvo (Curator, Factoría Habana)
Nahela Hechevarría (Curator, Contemporary Art, Casa de las Américas)
Sandra Ceballos, (Founder, Director, Espacio Aglutinador)
Moderator: Eugenio Valdés Figueroa (Director, CIFO)

Dialogues: Cuban and Cuban-American Artists in Conversation: Part 2
Glenda León
Ernesto Leal
Inti Hernández
Yornel Martínez
Leyden Rodríguez Casanova
Lázaro Saavedra
Manny Prieres
Moderator: Yuneikys Villalonga






Sunday, April 17, 2016

Art exhibit Drapetomania: Grupo Antillano and the Art of Afro-Cuba. Past exhibition curated by scholar Alejandro de la Fuente.





Art exhibit Drapetomania: Grupo Antillano and the Art of Afro-Cuba. Past exhibition curated by Alejandro de la Fuente. 

Locations:
Galeria Universal, Santiago de Cuba (April- May 2013); Centro de Desarrollo de las Artes Visuales, Havana (August 3-31, 2013). New York City (Spring 2014), San Francisco (Fall 2014) and Cambridge, MA (Spring 2015). 








Friday, November 27, 2015

Cuban Arts, Performance, Literature and Cultural Politics. Two Books. Coco Fusco. Rachel Price.





Dangerous Moves: Performance and Politics in Cuba | By Coco Fusco


In this exploration of performance and cultural politics in post-revolutionary Cuba, Fusco analyzes the dynamics between artists and the state, focusing on the ways that performance has served as a favored means of social commentary.

The study covers a range of performative practices in art, music, poetry and political activism. Fusco examines the relationship between the abject body in performance and the greater body politic of a state that defines itself as revolutionary but seeks to limit dissent.


Planet/Cuba: Art, Culture, and the Future of the Island.
By Rachel Price.

Transformations in Cuban art, literature and culture in the post-Fidel era
Cuba has been in a state of massive transformation over the past decade, with its historic resumption of diplomatic relations with the United States only the latest development. While the political leadership has changed direction, other forces have taken hold. The environment is under threat, and the culture feels the strain of new forms of consumption.


Planet/Cuba examines how art and literature have responded to a new moment, one both more globalized and less exceptional; more concerned with local quotidian worries than international alliances; more threatened by the depredations of planetary capitalism and climate change than by the vagaries of the nation’s government. Rachel Price examines a fascinating array of artists and writers who are tracing a new socio-cultural map of the island.

Monday, November 16, 2015

Saturday, August 1, 2015

Coco Fusco—THE REVOLUTION IS DEAD—BUT LONG LIVES THE STATE!



Juan Carlos Cremata’s production of The King Exits, a play by Ionesco, was recently censored in Cuba.

Published on e-flux
On the eve of the restoration of diplomatic relations between Cuba and the United States after a half-century standoff, I paid a visit to the Solidarność Museum in Gdansk. The museum’s permanent exhibition is an encyclopedic display of documents, videos,artifacts, and photographs detailing the rise of the independent trade union in the adjacent shipyard, the repressive response of the Soviet and Polish authorities, and the spread of popular resistance that, we are to understand, led to the end ofCommunism in the East. Though Solidarność’s retreat from politics in the 1990s and Poland’s transformation into a neoliberal economy with an ever-widening gap between low wages and high prices are absent from the story told by the museum, I found it hard to feel cynical about the heroic tale of righteous workers who spearheaded a peaceful revolt against oppressive state authority.Who among the world’s downtrodden wouldn’t want what these workers asked for?

Solidarność’s original twenty-one demands read like a blueprint for a utopian society, a kind of socialism without fangs in which workers could organize, strike, and also get raises, where free speech was enshrined, affordable food and housing were guaranteed together with paid maternity leave, and the bosses’capacity to skew managerial policies in their favor was checked.

The workers’ demands not only inspired compatriot intellectuals to assist them but also opened the door to a radical art fringe—the Orange Alternative—that staged irreverent street performances in defiance of authoritarian rule.

While many Cuban intellectuals also hoped for a political transformation in the 1980s, the Caribbean island’s leadership managed to ward off the end of socialism by stepping up repression and blaming the US embargo for its financial woes, rather than its own inefficiencies and political miscalculations.The Cuban government responded to the withdrawal of Soviet subsidies by authorizing a few small businesses and decriminalizing hard-currency possession, which led to the return of farmers’ markets, the emergence of home-based restaurants and barber shops, and a steady increase in remittances from exiles. Nonetheless, in the early 1990s, as food and power shortages dominated daily life, the value of wages plummeted and a wave of censorship hit the cultural sector. Cuban professionalsand artists left in droves. At the height of Cuba’s post-Soviet crisis, mass emigration on makeshift rafts for those who had no invitation to travel abroad was cynically encouraged by the state. It was not until Hugo Chavez took power in Venezuela and began supplying cheap crude oil to the Castro government that the island’s economy stabilized.

Nowadays, Cuban dissidents supported by the Lech Walesa Institute Foundation travel to Poland and visit the Solidarność exhibit, consult with former leaders of Eastern European opposition movements, and enjoy high-speed internet access free of charge at the embassies of former socialist block countries.They look to Eastern Europe for models and methods. They swaptales about growing up with Russian cartoons and black-marketvendors, and about contending with secret police andimpenetrable bureaucracy. But the comparisons stop there.

Cuban socialism was not imposed by a foreign power, nor can its government be characterized as a Soviet puppet. As historian Lillian Guerra has shown in her masterful study Visions of Power inCuba: Revolution, Redemption and Resistance, 1959–1971, the majority of Cuban citizens willingly relinquished their civil rights in the early stages of the revolution, believing that this was necessary to safeguard the country from foreign-backed threats to national security. The grand narrative about an underdog standing up to a foreign oppressor belongs to the Cuban government, with its anti-imperialist rhetoric and its invectives against the US embargo.While the middle and upper classes that fled to Miami are famous for their anti-Communism, the nationalist bent of the Cuban revolution and its dependence on a single charismatic leader who set policy via televised decree for fifteen years before approving a constitution made the tropical version of socialism quite different from any other.

Cuban dissidents are not trade unionists—they are intellectuals and professionals, many of whom fell out with the regime, and in some cases they are family members of political prisoners. The main audience for their muckraking remains outside the country and their attempts to intervene in Cuban public life are met with harsh responses from police and vituperative media campaigns instate media that dismiss them as mercenaries. No opposition group boasts membership as large as Solidarność once had—only one broad-based effort to bring about constitutional reform took root in Cuba in the 1990s and its leaders were soon imprisoned; its founder, Oswaldo Payá, died in a mysterious car accident in 2012.The common adage among Cuba’s critics is that the only way citizens can truly express their political will is by leaving the country.

Revolutionary rhetoric aside, Cuba’s economy is closer to state capitalism than centralized state socialism. The country’s public sector has been shrinking since the Soviet Union withdrew subsidies in the 1990s, while joint enterprise with SouthAmerican, Canadian, and European companies has grown. Privatization in the economic sector, however, has not been coupled with political liberalization, a point that is often made by critics of the Obama Administration’s new policy. There are many reasons why Washington may actually prefer to keep the current regime in power in Cuba. Unlike Eastern Europe, which enjoyed broad support from cold warriors in the US and Western Europe for its popular opposition to Soviet-style governance, Cuba operates in a post–Arab Spring geopolitical arena. Western powers are wary of popular uprisings and destabilized authoritarian states, which may explain why the Obama Administration appears so keen to negotiate with the Cuban regime instead of seeking to topple it. Indeed, despite the widespread belief that Cuba’s transition is imminent, the main player in the process is the current leadership, not the opposition. What is changing then is US-Cuba policy, not the Cuban government. Human rights are a bargaining chip, not a game changer in the discussion. Cuban dissidents may have racked up human-rights awards in Europe and they may enjoy photo ops with American politicians, but they do not command a mass following inside the country. Nor are they being groomed for future leadership. The Cuban government knows that it has the upper hand. Many Cuban dissidents have expressed anger and a sense of betrayal because realpolitik is not what they expected from Washington.

Since the December 17, 2014 announcement of a rapprochement between the US and Cuba, the political discussion in English has centered on who is perceived to have the upper hand in the negotiations. Unfortunately, the lack of nuance in most English-language reportage has encouraged many to confuse the announcement of renewed diplomatic ties with the termination of the US trade embargo, which it is not. Promised changes for Cubans, such as the expansion of internet services and the termination of a dual currency system in which most salaries are paid in worthless non-convertible pesos, have yet to materialize. But changes in the ways that Cubans see and speak about themselves have been taking place over the past decade.

Thanks to the development of citizen journalism on the island, Spanish-language media coverage offers more detailed and more critical accounts of the Cuban political apparatus and the country’s social ills, it's crumbling infrastructure, and its invasive policing practices. An expanding blogosphere led by a young generation of tech-savvy writers and activists has provided readers outside Cuba unprecedented access to social commentary from unauthorized sources and has facilitated public debate between island-based commentators and exiled intellectuals.While dissident musicians, writers, and indie filmmakers lash out publicly against the Cuban government, the artists who benefit from the support of the state’s cultural apparatus for the most part have stayed out of political debates. One notable exception to this pattern is the controversial but highly regarded film and theater director Juan Carlos Cremata, whose recent dramatic production of Eugène Ionesco’s Exit the King was shut down by authorities after one weekend on the boards. Apparently, a play about a four-hundred-year-old king whose kingdom is crumbling was too dangerously close to Cuban reality for their liking.

Cremata responded to the censorship by immediately publishing a scathing critique of state power in relation to the arts sector on numerous opposition blogs, and even granted an interview to Radio Martí in Miami. Visual artists are generally not so bold.They were among the first cultural producers in Cuba to be able to earn in hard currency and to negotiate independently with foreign entities; many enjoy a lifestyle that is envied by most Cubans. The beneficiaries of such privileges take a pragmatic approach to engaging both with the Cuban state and the global art market. Indeed, most of Cuba’s artists share their government’s desire for greater access to the global marketplace and its reticence to discuss human rights. Those who speak out about restrictions on speech, movement, and political conduct have either always been marginalized, or have fallen out of favor and have less to lose.Culture in today’s Cuba is a profitable business and complaining about civil rights is tantamount to being a wet blanket at a wild party. American collectors, who are flocking to the island in search of bargains, are happy to find a cadre of smart young artists poised and ready for business and seemingly uninterested inpolitics.

The Obama Administration has just removed Cuba from its state-sponsored terrorism list, giving the island greater access toforeign trade. Washington has also taken other measures that increase capital flow to the island, easing the economic pressure that failed to bring about systemic collapse or regime change. Up to now the Cuban government has only agreed to the original prisoner swap and the reopening of embassies. It maintains its longstanding demands for the return of the Guantánamo base, the lifting of the embargo, and the termination of US-based pro-democracy programs. While the American media sings Cuba’s praises as a tropical paradise full of sunny beaches, colonial architecture, vintage cars, and skilled-but-low-paid workers, Raúl Castro insists regularly on Cuban television that the socialist character of the Cuban state is not up for negotiation. Cuban dissident groups prepare their proposals for new civil rights legislation and demand a referendum, but Washington does not appear to be pressuring Cuba on these issues. The rate of detentions of dissidents and activists on the island has not gone down as negotiations progress. Old-guard exiled conservatives grumble about the rapprochement, sensing their loss of decision-making power over US-Cuba policy, but a younger generation of Ivy League–educated Cuban-American neoliberals has aligned itself with the Obama Administration, trying to be first in line to invest in the Cuban economy if and when the embargo is lifted. Cubans on the island appear split between those who are trying to open small businesses and join the ranks of the island’s nouveau riche, and those who are figuring out ways to emigrate before the Cuban Adjustment Act, which grants Cubans who set foot on US soil automatic refugee status, becomes a thing of the past. Rates of immigration in the past five years have been higher than during any other period since the onset of the revolution. Those most vulnerable are the elderly subsisting on pensions, an increasingly large sector of a country with a very low birthrate and a high incidence of migration.

Among the growing number of art-world itinerants who visit Cuba, there are many who are still in love with an idea of what the revolution was, or whose critical views of US policy lead them to downplay the significance of the problems with the Cuban economy and the repressive excesses of the state. There are also many global art-market players who turn a blind eye to Cuba’spolitical apparatus just in the same way that they overlook the undemocratic character of the governments in China, the GulfStates, and Russia so as to keep their art business unsullied by political fracases. The Cuban cultural ministry has banked on this combination of economic rationalism and political naïveté for decades. The seductive power of a tattered ideology draws cultural tourism, while the market-oriented pragmatism of most art-world cognoscenti helps the Cuban cultural apparatus to promote its favored artists abroad and secure financial support that substitutes for dwindling state subsidies. Unlike Cuban athletes and dancers who leave the country in search of better pay and working conditions, Cuban artists fare better financially when they keep the island as their home base, enacting a drama of national belonging for a foreign audience. Even those who work outside Cuba as much as possible rush back “home” when the Havana Biennial takes place. In recent years, several artists who went into exile in the eighties and nineties have returned with state approval in order to benefit from the media attention and marketing effort of the biennial as well.

It is against this backdrop that the recent confrontation between artist Tania Bruguera and the Cuban government is best understood. Her thwarted attempts to perform in Havana’s Revolutionary Plaza coupled with her highly successful international media campaign to publicize her treatment at the hands of Cuban authorities have complicated the international celebration of the US-Cuba rapprochement by foregrounding the ways in which the Cuban state, which goes to great lengths to present itself to the world as an enabling cultural force, simultaneously functions as a repressive agent. Bruguera’s notoriety turned an otherwise routine exercise of state control over a heavily policed public space into a political melodrama about artistic freedom in a country where no one has the right to express themselves freely and where the policing of public conduct is simply not news. The ruckus in social media outside Cuba contrasted with the virtual public silence of the Cuban art community on the matter. State officials questioned not only her loyalty but also her status as a Cuban given the fact that she has lived abroad for many years. In response, Bruguera dug in her heels by insisting that she has always wanted to work in Cuba, even as she maintains residence in New York; teaches in France; and though her projects in recent years have focused on immigrants in the US, religious visions in Italy, and cocaine trafficking in Colombia. It appears that the case against Bruguera has been dropped as of this writing. Her passport, which had been held for six months by Cuban authorities, has been returned.

While Bruguera was held up in Cuba by authorities, she won a major cash award in the US, sold a work to MoMA, and was appointed artist in residence for the NYC Mayor’s office of Immigrant Affairs—benefits that have not gone unnoticed by her compatriots.

The international attention to Bruguera’s case no doubt shieldedher from the harsher treatment that opponents of the Cuban government routinely receive—her detentions were brief and physical mistreatment was minimal. Writer Angel Santiesteban was just released under terms of “conditional liberty” after serving a two-year imprisonment on what many believe are trumped-up charges.
Street artist Danilo Maldonado Machado (aka El Sexto) has been imprisoned awaiting trial for over six months. Several other political prisoners are serving sentences for producing political graffiti against the Cuban government, but their marks are not considered art. When Cuban human-rights activists have been beaten, arrested, given lengthy sentences for nonviolent offenses, or died on hunger strikes, news rarely appears inEnglish-language media and no one in the international art world jumps on a soapbox or signs a petition. Despite the good intentions of those in the art world who created a media storm around Bruguera’s case, the discussion never progressed beyond naive outrage at her having been censored, as if this were not standard practice in Cuba, and as if freedom of speech were never subject to limits in any part of the world. Commentary has been focused singularly on her situation as an artist whose freedom to create was curtailed, rather than considering the political question of how and why Cuba controls the public speech and public acts of its entire population via intimidation, brute force, and the rewarding of complicity. That failure to address the political dimension of artistic expression reveals the economic underpinning of the cries for freedom—in other words, what the global art world seeks is for its famous artists to be “free” to travel and peddle their wares, not for people in general to express their opinions.

The absence of a more analytical international discussion of civil rights in Cuba beyond the Cuban diaspora is also what enables the Cuban government and its supporters to discount Bruguera as a self-serving gadfly and reassert its authority. Cuban artists who cooperate with the system do not broach the subject as part of a tacit agreement that allows them to function professionally. Exiled intellectuals and dissident journalists do address these matters regularly, but foreigners interested in new economic prospects in Cuba ignore that discussion. Romantic Cuba-philes dismiss these concerns when they assume that the very existence of art on the island is evidence in itself of freedom. Insisting that “engagement”is the key to political change, many members of the global cultural elite forget that the Cuban government has been expert at cultivating and controlling its fellow travellers since 1959, and that those who deviate from an unquestioning support for the political order lose their status and access to power.

In the months between Bruguera’s first detention and the 2015 Havana Biennial, I was approached by numerous journalists who wanted quotes but did not want to consider the limits on speech for Cubans other than the artist they already knew. I was also approached by artists who felt torn between their desire to“commune with Cuba” and their sympathy for Bruguera. Not one of them wanted to discuss what Cuban laws govern acceptable public speech or behavior, or to consider what the current negotiations between the US and Cuba may actually result in for those who live in Cuba or for hundreds of thousands of Cubans dispersed throughout the world who have never worked for the CIA and do not advocate violent overthrow of the regime, but whose salient criticisms of the Cuban revolution are grounded in grim experiences of its darker side. The art-world globetrotters who have just “discovered” Cuba—yet again—are caught between two dreams: one in which artists are thought to be freer than the rest of humanity, and another in which Cuba and its revolution persist as a fantasy about a bearded, longwinded leader who liberated a third-world country from poverty and capitalism.

One way out of this impasse is to take a break from the media spectacle about Cuba as the hottest new destination and listen to poetic and political commentary on the current situation by Cubans themselves. In the coming months, a special issue of e-flux journal will publish translations of poems, letters, essays, and fiction by Cubans who think deeply, ironically, and sometimes hopefully about their country, wherever they may reside. To launch this effort, we’ve offered a poem by writer and political activist Orlando Luis Pardo Lazo about the psychological effects of living with a larger-than-life leader for more than five decades.


Published on e-flux





Thursday, November 6, 2014

Miami based Curator Elizabeth Cerejido on Cuban artist Glexis Novoa latest exhibition: Painting on Canvas



Exhibition Close-Up: Glexis Novoa: Painting on Canvas

Independent curator Elizabeth Cerejido reflects on the change of direction in the artist’s current show
View of the exhibition Glexis Novoa: Painting on Canvas at Juan Ruiz Gallery
Courtesy Juan Ruiz Gallery
In Painting on Canvas, his current show in Miami, Glexis Novoa reconsiders a visual vocabulary he first developed in the 1980s and early 1990s. In her exhibition essay, independent curator Elizabeth Cerejido explores Novoa’s current work in light of his earlier art and his recent return to Havana.
Our thanks to Elizabeth Cerejido and Juan Ruiz Gallery for permission to translate and reproduce this essay, and to Virginia Soto for assistance with the translation.
Painting on Canvas, Glexis Novoa´s first solo exhibition at Juan Ruiz Gallery in Miami, is specifically noteworthy for the following revisionist aspects: 1) the artist's re-examination of an early period of his own work that was interrupted by exile in the mid-1990s; and 2) the place where the works were executed, which is Havana, where Novoa recently set up a studio after a twenty-year hiatus.  His return to the formal qualities of the Etapa práctica (the Practical Stage) and to the specificity of the Cuban context reveals poignant aspects of contemporary Cuban art today and the artist’s place in it.

Glexis Novoa has been a pioneering figure in contemporary Cuban art since the late 1980s. He belongs to the generation of artists who, along with the Volumen Uno group that preceded them, organized groundbreaking exhibitions challenging the status quo of the Cuban visual arts scene and the government's cultural politics. At times referred to as “the children of the Revolution” for being the first generation of artists to grow up under Fidel Castro´s socialist government, Novoa and his contemporaries ushered in contemporary art practices that drew on international trends such as Conceptual Art, Pop, and kitsch aesthetics.
While committed to art’s potential as an agent for social change, the artistic practices of the Volumen Unogroup, though unquestionably groundbreaking, remained limited to neat formal and conceptual propositions. Novoa instead pushed the envelope further by employing performative and interventionist strategies that, with cunning satire, went further in contesting the strictures imposed by Communist ideologies on the role of art in society. In his personal work, he created an artist persona and planned the development of two series: the Etapa romántica (Romantic Stage) of the mid-1980s) and the Etapa práctica (Practical Stage) of the late 1980s to mid-1990s. These works follow the artist’s transition from one who intentionally created bad and ugly works, lacking any formal decorum, to a period in which he purposefully displays his technical dexterity and commercial savvy. In the former series, Novoa often inscribed onto works on paper and canvas nonsensical phrases that appeared to be pronounced by an adolescent rather than by an artist who had received rigorous training in the visual arts at the ENA (National School of Arts).

Untitled (from the Etapa práctica), 1989, is an ambitious, large-scale installation that best culminates the work of this period. Initially it was exhibited at the 3rd Havana Biennial and is now in the collection of the Pérez Art Museum Miami (PAMM). It comprises several canvases, and works on paper and other media, including abstract forms and structures evoking the Soviet-style aesthetics of political propaganda.  Masterfully made in a visual language that combines Expressionism, Constructivism and Social Realism, the altar-like arrangement of these various elements brings to the work's visual grandiosity an officialdom sanctioned by its visual state. Yet upon closer inspection, the signs and abstract forms making up the work are empty of any meaning, turning the impulse and armature of socialism into mere pattern.
Glexis Novoa, 1989 painting from the series Etapa práctica
Courtesy The Farber Collection
By co-opting a formal language at once familiar and attractive to local and international audiences, Novoa guaranteed his place in the then-burgeoning art market for contemporary Cuban art of the late 1980s, while unequivocally making a subversive commentary on a Communist ideology that was rendered vacuous and bankrupt by the end of the Cold War. Thus, from the Etapa práctica were borne the fundamental elements that have characterized Novoa´s work from that point throughout his career: the use of apocryphal symbols to comment on structures of power or what the artist himself refers to as la arquitectura del poder.
Nearly 30 years later, Painting on Canvas draws heavily on the combination of stylistic languages from this earlier period. Here, Novoa has abandoned the work in graphite of meticulously rendered imagined urbanscapes on marble and drywall, often as site-specific installations, for which he became known after permanently settling in Miami in 1994. However, the artist’s penchant for the graphic element is still present, evident in the Brutalist-style solid blocks and typeface that outline forms, letters, and symbols in heavy blacks, contributing to the works’ dramatic dimension. In this recent series, symbols that address the specificity of post-Soviet Cuba enter into dialogue with other elements equally painted in bold abstraction, which represent the influence of more universal and metaphysical concerns. Each work creates a subtle yet poignant commentary, literally layered with paint and figuratively with meaning, about the contradictory sociocultural, political, and economic realities of both the new Cuban context he encountered, and of his own personal and cultural identities.
Glexis Novoa, CUC, 2014
Courtesy Juan Ruiz Gallery
Consider the painting in which three letters spell out CUC: the acronym for Cuban Convertible Currency.  Unlike the apocryphal symbols from the 1990s, the letters CUC stand for something tangible and real: one of two official currencies that circulate on the island. Yet the manner in which they are painted, bluntly and strikingly occupying the center of the picture plane, seem an ominous reminder of the complicated sociopolitical and economic implications they embody. The CUC is the more valuable of the two currencies within the island, although it has no value on the international market and not all Cubans have access to it. [The Cuban peso, the other currency, is the one in which Cubans get paid.  However, it is valued at roughly 1/20 of the CUC. And while the CUC has no international value, it is used to control the flow of foreign currency within the island.] As a result, an increasing disparity has ensued, creating class divisions within Cuban society, where egalitarian socialist values give way to the rise of arbitrary and contradictory economic measures. Given their unstable meaning, Novoa transforms the letters CUC into abstractions, equally fictitious and decontextualized, characteristic of his overall work.
Glexis Novoa, Screw, 2014
Courtesy Juan Ruiz Gallery
Novoa revisits the relationship between figuration and abstraction or the reduction of political content to mere form in another recent painting, titled Screw. The work has its formal and conceptual antecedents in a large-format diptych that Novoa executed in 1991 as part of the series, Logros de la economía [Accomplishments of the Economy], also belonging to the Etapa práctica. Logros aimed to reduce the rhetoric of politics to mere abstraction. In that work, Novoa was referring to Fidel Castro's numerous speeches on the state of the national economy in which he would cite a litany of exaggerated figures meant to impress Cubans with their country's progress. The incomprehension of Fidel's repeated and exaggerated pronouncements, akin to “one million screws produced in such and such time," is visually represented as two minimalist, highly abstract versions of a screw. In the recent variant of that work, Novoa further deconstructs the idea of building a new society to a single image of a screw pointed downward, beautifully painted in an incandescent tone of aqua against the background of heavily applied dark purples and blues. The work's heightened formal qualities reveal the loss of meaning and disconnect between content and rhetoric.
Glexis Novoa, Dharma Wheel, 2014
Courtesy Juan Ruiz Gallery
Representing more personal and universal themes are works such as Dharma Wheel or Sutta, which reflect the artist's recent interest in Buddhism. The Dharma Wheel is Buddhism's most recognizable symbol as a religious and spiritual practice, but on a broader metaphysical level it is also associated with the cyclical nature of life and death. Novoa´s Dharma Wheel is an abstracted version of the more traditional representations of the symbol, reinforcing the artist's practice of deconstructing and re-interpreting content and meaning into evocative forms. Another reading of the Wheel, in the context of Novoa's new work, tempts one to read it as a metaphor for the artist's gestures of return, "coming full circle" to both place and content, with vastly renewed perspectives.
Glexis Novoa, Pesos Convertibles, 2014
Courtesy Juan Ruiz Gallery
Glexis Novoa, Deva I, 2014
Courtesy Juan Ruiz Gallery


The visual semiotic play that exists between Pesos Convertibles and Deva I provides a cunning example of the interchangeability of sign and signifier present in some of these works. Pesos takes the form of an eagle-like insignia as its principal figure, flanked on either side by the letters "P" and "C."  In Deva I—the Sanskrit name for deity—floating, amorphous, yet ambiguously recognizable shapes make up the work's overall composition. The horn-like designs of the central image echo the winged-like contours of Pesos. The visual equalizing of deity and currency attests to Novoa's interest of deconstructing mechanisms of power and hierarchy beyond their discursive potentiality. 
Installation view with Pesos Convertibles in foreground at right
Courtesy Juan Ruiz Gallery
The commingling of these signs also function to situate Novoa in his work as a transitional figure who navigates between two opposing yet increasingly intersecting contexts: Miami and Havana. In a broader sense, his acts of return also reveal the complexities that are operative in the production and consumption of contemporary Cuban art. As in Etapa práctica, Novoa plays into the power structures of the art market—this time, with the market's perception that the legitimacy of Cuban art is contingent upon where it is produced (Cuba), eschewing diasporic productions, and increasing transnational relations among Cubans in and outside the island that have been destabilizing previously rigid territorial and ideological demarcations. Novoa both reinforces and challenges those market biases by producing work in Havana intended to circulate outside the specific charge of its conceived site, and for the consumption of audiences in Miami. That Cuban artists in Cuba have been doing exactly that for decades not only compounds the ironies and contradictions inherent in such biases but also helps understand Novoa´s gestures of return as performative and strategic. Returning to these various aspects, Novoa's new series and its intended functions ultimately reveal the inherent tensions and inevitable interconnectedness between the local and global in today’s cultural production, as well as, the de-territorialization of nation and diaspora.
Glexis Novoa: Painting on Canvas runs through November 22 at Juan Ruiz Gallery in Miami.
Elizabeth Cerejido is a Miami-based independent curator whose research interests include modern and contemporary Latin American art and photography, with an emphasis in Cuban and Cuban-American art and cultural politics. Cerejido is former assistant curator of Latin American and Latino Art at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston and was curator at the Patricia & Phillip Frost Art Museum at Florida International University from 2002 to 2007.

Monday, September 22, 2014

Cultural politics as Censorship




Funcionario defiende cancelación de muestra de Pedro Pablo Oliva



PedroPabloO-display

Dibujo de Pedro Pablo Oliva que ilustra su declaración pública, publicada en la internetPor Redacción CaféFuerte
Las autoridades culturales cubanas defendieron el “derecho institucional” para cancelar una exposición del reconocido pintor Pedro Pablo Oliva, y criticaron al artista por sus recientes declaraciones en una carta pública.
En una carta divulgada el pasado viernes, Rubén del Valle, presidente del Consejo Nacional de las Artes Plásticas (CNAP), salió al paso a las declaraciones hechas por Oliva tras anunciarse la suspensión de la muestra Utopías y disidencias, prevista para inaugurarse en el Museo de Arte Pinar del Río (MAPRI), el pasado 10 de septiembre.
“Con ello ejerzo el derecho institucional a tomar las decisiones que estimemos pertinentes en la implementación de la política cultural, en la búsqueda de favorecer un clima propicio para la socialización y democratización de lo mejor de la creatividad visual contemporánea y de ampliar cada vez más los márgenes de la recepción y de la asunción de los contenidos más disímiles”, dijo Del Valle en su respuesta al mensaje publicado por Oliva en su sitio digital.
En su manifiesto, el laureado pintor, de 65 años, culpa a Del Valle por la cancelación de Utopías y disidencias, y arremente contra la Seguridad del Estado por las continuas llamadas a sus amigos y colaboradores cercanos con la intención de vigilar su vida privada y crear un clima de suspicacia en torno a él y su familia.

El funcionario dijo sentirse sorprendido por la afirmación de Oliva sobre la incertidumbre generada en torno a la muestra, y rechazó la existencia de manipulación del caso por “poderes ocultos”. Sin embargo, admitió que existe preocupación por las “posiciones contrarrevolucionarias” que se vinculan a los hechos.
Caldo de cultivo
“Sería ingenuo de mi parte no tener en cuenta que además, en ese contexto afloran paralelamente, individuos con posiciones beligerantemente contrarrevolucionarias que han encontrado en estas circunstancias un excelente caldo de cultivo en el que desarrollar su activismo político”, escribió Del Valle.
En un correo electrónico enviado a amigos y medios de comunicación el pasado 5 de septiembre, Silvia Oliva, hija y representante del pintor, informó de la cancelación de la apertura de Utopías y disidencias tras la visita de Del Valle a Pinar del Río, considerando que no existían condiciones subjetivas favorables en la ciudad.
La propuesta del CNAP es que la exposición se inagure en el Centro de Arte Contemporáneo Wifredo Lam, en La Habana, en febrero próximo, y en el MAPRI en mayo del 2015, como parte del programa de muestras colaterales de la Bienal de La Habana. Oliva se niega a aceptar la propuesta.
Del Valle dijo sentirse también contrariado por el dibujo de la serie Utopías y disidencias que Oliva escogió para ilustrar su carta en la internet. En la ilustración, aparece un hombre amordazado junto a la expresión siguiente: “Les hice un cuento en chino, pero no entendían español”.
Silvia Oliva explicó a CaféFuerte que la carta fue concebida por el pintor “para hacerla circular entre artistas, amigos, instituciones responsables y personas interesadas en saber su posición personal sobre el tema”.
A continuación CaféFuerte reproduce la carta del pintor Pedro Pablo Oliva y la respuesta del presidente del CNAP:
DECLARACIÓN DE PEDRO PABLO OLIVA SOBRE LA CANCELACIÓN DE LA EXPOSICIÓN “UTOPÍAS Y DISIDENCIAS”
A mis amigos, a la Unión Nacional de Escritores y Artistas de Cuba, al Ministerio de Cultura, al Consejo Nacional de las Artes Plásticas y a la Asociación Hermanos Saíz. A todos los que continúan solicitando insistentemente una explicación acerca de la cancelación de mi muestra personal en el MAPRI.
A petición del Museo de Arte Pinar de Río (MAPRI), en el 2011 comencé a trabajar en una muestra que para septiembre del 2014 estaba lista con los últimos trabajos de una nueva serie: Utopías y disidencias. La misma dialogaba sobre mis inquietudes estéticas, sociopolíticas y filosóficas del momento, algo recurrente en mi trabajo desde sus inicios, pero que en esta oportunidad me hacía retornar de forma más evidente aquella primera vocación del cómics y la crónica humorística. Los especialistas del MAPRI, tras considerar detenidamente el proyecto, lo aceptaron sin reparos.
Hace alrededor de cuatro meses, en un encuentro con la directiva del Consejo Nacional de las Artes Plásticas (CNAP), les informé que había conformado una muestra personal, presentándoles el proyecto curatorial correspondiente, donde se incluían imágenes de la serie.
Dicho proyecto proponía una muestra itinerante que recorriera tres puntos claves en el debate cultural, artístico y sociopolítico cubano: Pinar del Río, La Habana y Miami. El objetivo era crear a través del arte un punto de convergencia entre estos tres sitios, un diálogo sobre temas comunes entre públicos cubanos de diferente contexto.
El itinerario comenzaría por Pinar de Río, honrando el compromiso largamente contraído con el MAPRI, por tratarse de mi ciudad de origen y el lugar que donde vivo hace 65 años, y por ser de suma importancia para el sentido de mi obra reciente, el ámbito donde nació la temática de Utopías y disidencias.
La Habana, su segunda parada, colocaba a la exposición en el centro cultural más importante de la isla. Concluiríamos en Miami, puesto que hace varias décadas que la comunidad cubana residente allí valora, atesora y promueve una parte sustancial del arte cubano contemporáneo y de todos los tiempos, deviniendo naturalmente un enclave esencial para la cultura cubana.
En esta primera reunión en el CNAP, expusimos algunas inquietudes acerca de una diapositiva donde se mostraba, sin autorización, una de mis obras más conocidas, como parte de las imágenes que “ilustraban” la “subversión” y la manipulación ideológica del enemigo en el ámbito de la cultura, en una conferencia impartida por un oficial del MININT a un grupo de directivos y académicos de la Universidad de Pinar del Río. Algunos de los allí presenten nos llamaron la atención sobre el comentario del oficial, al detenerse en la diapositiva, de que hay artistas que reciben dinero del “enemigo”. A ello se suman las continuas llamadas, por parte del oficial de la Seguridad del Estado que “atiende” el sector cultura en Pinar del Río, a nuestros amigos y colaboradores cercanos, con la intención de vigilar nuestra vida privada, creando, como es lógico, un clima de suspicacia con respecto a mí y a mi familia.
Atendiendo a esta inquietudes, y percibiendo el riesgo de que sobreviniera una radicalización de estas condiciones, Rubén del Valle Lantarón, presidente del CNAP, nos sugirió que consideráramos, a modo de alternativa, exponer primero en el Centro de Arte Contemporáneo Wifredo Lam en La Habana. En su opinión, exponer en esta institución, “la más importante del contexto artístico cubano”, con un curador asignado, era una forma de legitimar mis obras, limar asperezas y así evitar problemas mayores. En aquella reunión, quedamos en que lo pensaríamos y le daríamos una respuesta.
Debo precisar que Utopías y Disidencias, narra fundamentalmente las historias y divagaciones de un personaje, “Utopito”, que es un cubano, pinareño por demás, lleno de contradicciones, unas veces lúcido y otras no tanto, que intenta explicarse el mundo y su propia realidad. Se trata de un hijo de la tradición plástica cubana, heredero de El Bobo de Abela, del Salomón de Chago, o de El Loquito de De la Nuez.
Algunas piezas de la serie ya habían sido vistas en varias muestras dispersas en La Habana y en el propio Pinar del Río, entre ellas en “Dream City”, organizada en el MAPRI en noviembre de 2011, durante el 2012 en “AB&C”, organizada por la Galería Collage Habana para la 11na. Bienal en la Sala Tangana, Hotel Nacional de Cuba; ese mismo año otras se exponían en la Galería Villa Manuela de la UNEAC, mientras que en lo que va del 2014 se incluyeron cuatro piezas en “Miradas”, muestra homenaje por los 30 años de la Bienal de La Habana en Factoría Habana, y otras cuatro en la exposición colectiva “A este lado del paraíso”, en la Galería El Reino de este mundo, de la Biblioteca Nacional José Martí. Incluso, uno de los dibujos de la serie fue seleccionado como portada para la carpeta entregada a los delegados del Congreso de la UNEAC este mismo año.
Tomando en cuenta todo lo anterior, y pensando además que hacía 20 años no hacía una exposición personal en Pinar del Río -desde “El Gran Apagón”-, decidí que a pesar de todo no debíamos romper nuestro compromiso inicial y continuar con el itinerario previsto. Fijamos con el MAPRI las fechas de la muestra, del 10 de septiembre al 14 de noviembre, día este último en que se cumpliría el 13 aniversario de esta institución.
Todo ello fue informado en carta al Presidente del Consejo Nacional de las Artes Plásticas, firmada por mi representante y enviada el 16 de julio del 2014, de la cual cito textualmente un fragmento:
“Pedro Pablo y nuestro equipo de trabajo, después de haber reflexionado detenidamente a propósito de la conversación en el Consejo, y de constantes intercambios y debates en las últimas semanas, hemos convenido en iniciar el periplo de la exposición teniendo como primera sede la ciudad de Pinar del Río. Conversamos con el director del MAPRI, Juan Carlos Rodríguez, y luego de entregarle el proyecto y exponerle nuestras dudas, el MAPRI mantiene su disposición de acoger Utopías… y asume con responsabilidad el trabajo conjunto. Téngase en cuenta además que la serie se concibió teniendo por motivo y fuente de inspiración primeros la relación del artista con sus coterráneos –como ya se ha expuesto, su protagonista, Utopito, es un pinareño-, y la muestra desea comenzar su diálogo con los públicos de nuestra ciudad. Utopías y Disidencias es también, en cierto modo, un canto, un homenaje de Pedro Pablo al pueblo pinareño.
Existen otras razones de peso para esta toma de decisión. La muestra festeja las dos décadas de El Gran Apagón, obra medular que fuera realizada y expuesta por primera vez en Pinar del Río entre 1994 y 1995. Por otro lado, y creemos que este constituye el argumento de mayor peso específico, hace precisamente 20 años que Pedro Pablo no realiza una exposición personal en su ciudad; aunque es un orgullo para Pinar del Río contar con un maestro de su categoría, contradictoriamente pocas veces su tierra natal ha tenido la oportunidad de ver su obra de conjunto. Se une a ello los trece años del MAPRI (la clausura de Utopías… abrirá el marco de las actividades por el aniversario), institución que fue creada gracias al empuje de Oliva en pos del crecimiento cultural de la región. Por último, la muestra también celebrará simultáneamente, a lo largo de su itinerario, los 65 años de vida y los 45 de carrera artística de Pedro Pablo Oliva.
En conclusión, por acuerdo del Museo de Arte Pinar del Río y del Estudio de Arte de Pedro Pablo Oliva, la exposición será inaugurada en el MAPRI el 10 de septiembre de 2014 y estará en sala hasta el 14 de noviembre. El presidente del CPAP en Pinar del Río, Yoan Lorenzo, está al tanto. La serie Utopías… es en verdad mucho más amplia que la muestra a exponer en el MAPRI, por lo que presentaremos al Centro W. Lam el proyecto de modo que lo tenga en cuenta para el próximo año.”
En efecto, entregamos también el proyecto curatorial en la oficina de Jorge Fernández, director del Centro de Arte Contemporáneo Wifredo Lam, con la petición de que lo discutiera en septiembre con su equipo, como dicta el protocolo, para considerar su inclusión en el cronograma de exposiciones del año 2015, con la condición de que no existiera ningún curador asignado, puesto que la exposición ya tenía curador.
Cuál no sería mi sorpresa cuando apenas una semana antes de la inauguración en Pinar del Río recibimos la visita de Rubén del Valle para informarnos que la exposición estaba cancelada, y pospuesta, porque el contexto actual (refiriéndose a Pinar del Río) no ofrecía la garantía de condiciones favorables desde un punto de vista que subrayaba como subjetivo. No me han aclarado, hasta el momento, la naturaleza concreta de estas garantías inexistentes o en qué, quién o quiénes reside la subjetividad desfavorable que motivó la cancelación.
Lo cierto es que no podré entender nunca cómo a un creador cubano Premio Nacional de Artes Plásticas, Maestro de Juventudes, Orden por la Cultura Nacional, Orden Alejo Carpentier, Utilidad de la Virtud, entre otras, se le puede dar una respuesta tan evasiva, cuando se supone que el otorgamiento de tales honores le concede un voto de confianza a su depositario.
Si todos estos años de compromiso personal con el arte, con la cultura cubana y con el debate de ideas que todos debemos emprender en Cuba para construir un país mejor, parecen no haber servido de nada, y no merecer un mínimo de respeto y transparencia, PROPONGO reunir un jurado de prestigiosos intelectuales cubanos de cualquier rama de la creación o el pensamiento para que determine si aún poseo los méritos suficientes para conservar tales distinciones. Intelectuales de diferentes generaciones, manifestaciones, pensamientos, posturas ideológicas, tal y como es Cuba, su cultura y su arte para que emitan su juicio sin permitir la mediación de otra subjetividad que no sea la propia.
Sé que es injusto proponer nombres, pero a mi mente vienen Roberto Fernández Retamar, Eusebio Leal, Silvio Rodríguez, Reynaldo González, Eduardo Torres Cuevas, Abel Prieto, Guillermo Rodríguez Rivera, Graciela Pogolotti, Miguel Barnet, Roberto Fabelo, Nelson Dominguez, Adelaida de Juan, Pablo Armando Fernández, José Villa, Lesvia Vent Dumois, Desiderio Navarro, Leo Brower, Pablo Milanés, Carlos Valera, Eduardo Ponjuán, Manuel Mendive, Manuel López Oliva, René Francisco, Leonardo Padura, Antón Arrufat, Carlos Díaz, Flora Lauten, Polito Ibañez, Rosario Cárdenas, Senel Paz, Fernando Pérez, Arturo Soto, Lázaro Saavedra, Nelson Herrera Ysla, Lliliam Llanes, Gerado Mosquera, Tania Brugueras, Magalys Espinosa, etc., etc., y tantos más… entre los que incluyera, si pudieran estar entre nosotros, a Alfredo Guevara, Virgilio Piñera, Cintio Vitier, José Lezama Lima, Nicolás Guillén, Heberto Padilla, Dulce María Loynaz, Antonia Eiriz, Santiago Feliú, Guillermo Cabrera Infante, Jesús Díaz…
Profeso respeto por el Centro de Arte Contemporáneo Wifredo Lam, por su equipo de trabajo, por su historia y por su papel en el desarrollo de la cultura visual cubana. Es por ello que la primera vez que exponga allí, si alguna vez sucede, no lo haré por las razones equivocadas. La legitimación de mi obra, y entiéndase por ello la medida de su mérito artístico, pertinencia social y valía cultural después de 45 años de trabajo incesante, no puede quedar a expensas del lugar donde se expone, ni mi entrada a un espacio de arte puede estar determinado por razones otras que no sean las artísticas. No puede ser que el Centro Lam llegue a ser algo así como un salvoconducto para que mis obras se reciban después en otros espacios sin mayores desvelos o sobresaltos. Mi obra dialogará con los demás por su propia cuenta, dondequiera que esté, y pasará lo que tenga que pasar. Por demás, no me interesa probar nada, no necesito nada para reafirmarme en lo que soy, un artista cubano, no de La Habana o de Pinar.
A estas alturas no es posible discernir con absoluta claridad si la cancelación de “Utopías y disidencias” fue una decisión tomada o una presión ejercida desde mi provincia, o si por el contrario “vino de más arriba”. Nadie me aclara nada. Nadie me dice nada. Solo tengo en mi memoria a Rubén del Valle culpándose de todo. Los extraños fantasmas que manipulan esta situación, solo espero que un día den la cara.
Pero una cosa sí tengo por segura: si el MAPRI y Pinar del Río no son también Cuba, si aún hoy, a apenas unos meses del último congreso de los escritores y artistas cubanos, una exposición de arte puede ser cancelada por decreto en una institución pública sin más explicaciones, me pregunto si esto no es una muestra más de la necesidad de cambiar nuestras políticas culturales. Me pregunto ¿qué es un intelectual, sino un hombre que intenta cambiar el mundo siempre, siempre para mejorarlo?
Pedro Pablo Oliva
CARTA DEL PRESIDENTE DEL CNAP A PEDRO PABLO OLIVA
Fecha: 2014-09-20
Estimado Pedro Pablo:
En la noche de ayer, mientras asistía a un homenaje a José A. Figueroa por sus 50 años de vida artística, varios creadores me llamaron para preguntarme si conocía la última declaración abierta que Pedro Pablo Oliva había publicado en su sitio web. Mucho fue mi desconcierto al leer el texto que encabezaba su página, antecedido por un dibujo de su serie Utopías y disidencias donde un Utopito amordazado cavilaba: «les hice un cuento en chino pero no entendían español»
Aunque no acostumbro a intervenir personalmente en diatribas públicas, y me resultan además muy poco gratas, fecundas o edificantes las sagas que generan en la red tales debates, he decidido en esta oportunidad exponer brevemente mi punto de vista. Me motiva en primer lugar el profundo respeto y admiración que siento por Ud. y por su obra, transparente, de indagación social, lúdica, valiente y siempre hermosa. Me motiva también la confusión que han generado en el medio los argumentos que esgrime en su texto y especialmente el modo superficial con que asume la autoridad de mi gestión en este asunto.
Reitero una vez más que asumo la total responsabilidad por las decisiones adoptadas a nombre del Consejo Nacional de las Artes Plásticas, al estructurar y proyectar la estrategia de circulación y promoción de la exposición que Ud. nos presentó. Con ello ejerzo el derecho institucional a tomar las decisiones que estimemos pertinentes en la implementación de la política cultural, en la búsqueda de favorecer un clima propicio para la socialización y democratización de lo mejor de la creatividad visual contemporánea y de ampliar cada vez más los márgenes de la recepción y de la asunción de los contenidos más disímiles. Me sorprende que luego de dos largas conversaciones donde cada cual expuso con absoluta franqueza e independencia sus puntos de vista, y cuyos resultados podrían considerarse acuerdos acerca de los destinos de su exposición, Ud. hiciera públicas incertidumbres referentes a que «nadie le aclara nada». Me resulta inadmisible su apreciación de que he sido orquestado o manipulado para ser la cara de una decisión tomada desde poderes ocultos.
También me resulta insólito su llamamiento a revaluar la pertinencia de sus premios y distinciones, incluso catalogaría de pueril la idea de un jurado y la cita respectiva de nombres de intelectuales y artistas, cuando bien sabe que su trascendente protagonismo en la cultura cubana no está en tela de juicio. Le recuerdo que mi proposición nunca cuestionó su obra, los contenidos de las piezas que integraban el proyecto, ni de la idea curatorial o la concepción general del mismo. Mi decisión de cambiar el orden de la itinerancia de la muestra se fundamentaba en los argumentos que Ud. mismo me ofreciera por escrito en la carta firmada por su hija Silvia el 16 de mayo del presente año, luego reiterados en esta reciente declaración, relativos a tensiones y actitudes de algunos funcionarios de instituciones de Pinar del Río, que resultan poco favorables a su persona y a su obra. Sería ingenuo de mi parte no tener en cuenta que además, en ese contexto afloran paralelamente, individuos con posiciones beligerantemente contrarrevolucionarias que han encontrado en estas circunstancias un excelente caldo de cultivo en el que desarrollar su activismo político.
Entendí que de realizarse Utopías y Disidencias primero en La Habana y luego en Pinar del Río desmitificaría la literalidad con que esta serie asume la crónica humorística de la cotidianidad cubana, y de su natal terruño, según Ud., cautivo hoy de prejuicios maniqueos y radicalismos extremos en sentidos encontrados. Nunca le propuse legitimar ni oficializar su proyecto, solo buscaba multiplicar las posibilidades de una recepción desprejuiciada, polisémica, donde el centro de las reflexiones se enfocara hacia su obra y no solo en interpretaciones manipuladoras de las posibles intenciones o signos político-ideológicos que ella portaba. La propuesta fue exhibir la muestra primero en el Centro de Arte Contemporáneo Wifredo Lam, la institución más prestigiosa del país en ese campo, cuya gestión se ha caracterizado por defender el compromiso del arte y los artistas con la realidad y con su tiempo; y luego organizarla en Pinar del Río, como parte del programa de exposiciones colaterales de la Duodécima Bienal de La Habana. Insisto en que desde nuestra primera conversación, mi propuesta solo suponía cambiar el orden del periplo, contribuyendo así a que la exposición se presentara en La Habana, Pinar del Río, y en otras posibles locaciones.
Hoy libelos de la contrarrevolución circulan con frenesí la noticia de que «el régimen censura una exposición de Pedro Pablo Oliva». Menudo censor ese que instrumentado por el «régimen» propone al artista multiplicar y jerarquizar las posibilidades de proyección de su trabajo nacional e internacionalmente. No es la primera vez que intentan manipularnos y alejarle de las instituciones cubanas.
Le reitero que creo en el diálogo directo, transparente, franco, y en la estatura moral de la palabra empeñada. Ciertamente, el desbroce hacia una Cuba cada vez mejor no se trata de transitar por un campo de violetas, como Rufo Caballero nos insinuara que usted la asume, en una de las más lúcidas lecturas que se han hecho de su trabajo. Las contradicciones de un terreno minado nos imponen desafíos donde cada cual juega su rol desde posiciones distintas, pero no necesariamente antagónicas. Creo y apuesto por el futuro de esta patria nuestra, forjado en un proyecto de emancipación y utopías; confío en la capacidad de la política cultural de la Revolución para generar y propiciar el diálogo, en el respeto a las posiciones del otro, y en la ampliación cada día más de los márgenes de la libertad de creación. Trabajo todos los días y pongo mi mayor empeño en aportar a ello lo mejor de mi capacidad humana e intelectiva. Con profundo agrado lo invito a visitar el 6to Salón de Arte Cubano Contemporáneo donde nuestros más jóvenes creadores han hecho despliegue de agudeza, rigor estético y compromiso con su realidad y con su tiempo.
Con todo mi respeto,
Rubén del Valle Lantarón
Presidente
Consejo Nacional de las Artes Plásticas