Showing posts with label Raimond Chaves. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Raimond Chaves. Show all posts

Monday, September 26, 2011

'THE PERIPATETIC SCHOOL: ITINERANT DRAWING FROM LATIN AMERICA' CURATED BY TANYA BARSON AT THE DRAWING ROOM



'The Peripatetic School' exhibition view






Mateo Lopez, Nowhere Man, drawings installation, 2011



Brigida Baltar, Forest Flora, earth drawings on paper, 2008



Ishmael Randall Weeks, Fragments, installation, 2011





Gilda Mantilla and Raimond Chaves, Carbon Copy Drawings from the Amazonian Library in Iquitos, 2011


Jorge Macchi, Missing Points, 2007, cut out map of the world



Andre Komatsu, Constructing Worlds, entropic drawings, 2010




Nicolas Paris, Hurry Slowly, 2007-ongoing, found objects which detonate ideas for drawings



Tony Cruz, Building, digital animations, 2007





Gilda Mantilla and Raimond Chaves, Abstract, 2011, slideshow made of drawings found at the Amazonic Library in Iquitos


Brigida Baltar, drawing


Brigida Baltar, Untitled, brick dust drawing, 2008


Tony Cruz, Distance Drawing San Juan/London, an attempt to draw the distance from San Juan to London, 2011


Brigida Baltar, Tony Cruz


The Drawing Room's new space in Bermondsey


Christian Rattemeyer giving a talk at the Drawing Room


The Peripatetic School [Gr. peripatein – to walk about]
Itinerant drawing practices from Latin America
Curated by Tanya Barson
with Brigida Baltar, Jose Tony Cruz, Andre Komatsu, Mateo Lopez, Jorge Macchi, Gilda Mantilla and Raimond Chaves, Nicolas Paris, Ishmael Randall Weeks
22 September - 12 November 2011

The relationship between exploration and inquiry, or moresimply between walking and reflection, is one we can all appreciate (a commonclaim being that our best thinking is done on the move). It has a long pedigree,going back to the school of philosophy founded by Aristotle in ancient Greece,which was rooted in the practice of empirical observation and knowledge drawnfrom experience. The term ‘Peripatetic’ is derived from the ancient Greek term for‘of walking’ or ‘given to walking about’, it is used to mean itinerant, wandering, meandering, or walking.While the school is said to have been named after the peripatoi (colonnades) ofthe Lyceum (chosen as a meeting place since – as a non-citizen of Athens –Aristotle could not own property), it is also claimed that it was because ofAristotle’s habit of walking while lecturing. Thus, peripatetic is also used todescribe itinerant teachers.

In pre-Columbian South America, the Inca road system, orQhapaq Ñan, was the most extensive and highly advanced for its time; 10,000miles of exceptional, all-weather construction that acted as a system ofcommunication, a source of stability, a sign of Imperial authority and a methodof delineating internal boundaries. “The roads were not only used to separatepeople but ‘for thinking, by helping to conceive of the relationship of one toanother’.” However, as the Incas didnot use the wheel for transportation, and did not have horses, the trails wereused almost exclusively by people walking.

Of course, the history of LatinAmerica is littered with exemplars of the epic voyages of conquest, explorationand rites of passage. From the Spanish conquistador Francisco Pizarro whodefeated the Incan empire and began the brutal suppression of indigenous culture,to the German explorer and scientist Friedrich von Humboldt who travelled inCentral and South America between 1799 and 1804 and who wrote extensively onits natural history and geography. Similarly, the motorcycle journey taken byErnesto ‘Che’ Guevara in the early 1950s, that began as a coming of age, butbecame the road to revolutionary politics. In literature and art, there areequally important examples; the writing of Jorge Luis Borges whose partlysurreal, partly existential literature takes as its central inspiration andsubject the city of Buenos Aires, or the work of pioneering video artist JuanDowney, whose Video Trans-America project set out to document the continent –both North and South - during the early 1970s.

This group of artists from acrossLatin America share an engagement with the landscape, whether urban or rural. Morespecifically, they are concerned with travelling or moving through thelandscape, and frequently with walking, which is combined in their work withdiverse approaches to drawing. Images that are the result of itinerancy ornomadism, places, scenes and things observed along the way, abound. They journeyout of the studio, into the neighbourhood, the city, the territory or entirecontinent beyond, in a manner that evokes by turns Surrealist, Borgesian orSituationist metropolitan perambulation, or exploration in wilderness spaces(whether jungle, mountain, desert or pampas). The artist is often seen as asolitary figure, a strolling flaneur or otherwise a lone traveller who venturesfurther afield (predecessors from Casper David Friedrich and Frederick Churchto Richard Long and Francis Alys come to mind). Thus, while these artists sharea sense of the subjective experience of landscape, it results in a diverse rangeof concerns and responses. Through their work they raise questions aboutownership and access to territory and its resources, about borders and systemsof control, and the political and economic struggles that stem from these. The povertyand contingencies of life within some Latin American communities are alsoexpressed (behind the work are the facts of a continent impacted on bypolarised politics, instability and corruption, the failure of utopian Modernistdevelopmentalism, a lack of amenities or access to utilities that are elsewheretaken for granted and where natural disasters such as earthquakes can alsocause chaos and devastation). Some express a fascination with the flora, fauna,topography and natural riches, while also testifying to the tensions betweennature and culture. Several seem to manifest a sense of ‘topophilia’ and anobsession with maps and cartographies – but often seeking to undermine theirrationalist purpose. Others look for the bizarre in the everyday, while alsocataloguing aspects of the lived culture of the continent – aspects of lifethat are overlooked by guidebooks and don’t conform to the picturesque orstereotypical. Their work utilizes models and conventions from geographical,botanical, topographical, political and philosophical or surrealistinvestigation. The individual bodies of work destabilise assumptions about thecontinent. They present instead individual testaments to the extraordinaryheterogeneity of its people, culture, languages, cities and landscape.

These artists address the actions taken by man in the world,his passage through the landscape and impact upon it. Often, they themselvesconduct journeys or undertake residencies as a form of aesthetic nomadism. [AsNicholas Bourriard has argued, nomadism is one of the defining characteristicsof a post-post-modernist era or ‘alter-modernity’.] Symptomatic of this itineranttendency is their frequent recourse to drawing. Drawing has always been themost portable medium, the fundamental exploratory tool to which the artistreturns time and again. However, for these artists, drawing has become a focusof expanded practices that engage with the landscape and culture as a subjectand source for exploration, as well as philosophical speculation. Not only dothey explore the world at large, but simultaneously the parameters of drawingitself, often using unconventional materials or strategies. These artists seekto blur the traditional boundaries between media categorisations; work on paperbecomes sculptural object and simple line drawing becomes video animation.Drawing travels off the page and into the environment itself.

Tanya Barson, 2011

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Co-publication with Ridinghouse. Edited by Tanya Barson and Kate Macfarlane, it will include essays by Moacir dos Anjos, Tanya Barson, Pablo Léon de la Barra & Isobel Whitelegg and colour plates of works in the exhibition.

www.drawingroom.org.uk

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

'MARIHUANO DRAWINGS' BY RAIMOND CHAVES




















Raimond Chaves, 'Marihuano Drawings', drawings done trying to remember how one drew under the effects of marihuana.
(scroll for spanish version)

Marihuano Drawings
Raimond Chaves
A text not yet written about these drawings should tell a series of seemingly unrelated issues. It would be necessary to describe in it, things that happened long time ago and to refer to some incidents of a personal nature. It might be necessary to venture some kind of relationship between these drawings, done like in the air, and the floating perception that today we have of time and space and the sensation that history became fleeting and elusive. It would not hurt either to establish some links with the experiences that some writers like Benjamin, and artists such as and Michaux developed once with hashish and mescaline. And then we would have to tell it all in a way to disable the frivolity and the prejudices that the name might carry with it.

A text not yet written about these drawings would tell that in 1997 with Carolina Caycedo after strolling under the rain and smoking lots of marijuana we drew on large sheets of paper for no other reason than to enjoy and celebrate that we were alive and happy. We drew on the floor, on the bed or over the tables. The pictures came out from anything, and they did by one, two, three and four hands. We cut and glued no matter what. And around us, alone or together, the marihuano drawings grew and accumulated.

“A poster of a singer retouched up insolently, identikits on top of the paper whose tears descended to the bottom of the sheet. Explosions, leaks, swirls, squiggles, airtight strokes so intimate. Everything so intense, everything so arbitrary.”

A text not yet written about these drawings would point out how in 1997 there were a number of issues that thirteen years later would allow them to be read as a significant coincidence.

In 1997, for me, time ceased to exist when I encountered the “undo” function, that possibility of computer writing that made it possible for time to maintain intact its carcass made of measures, terms and ready-made phrases, but that made the relationship between their more conventional orders, that is, between past, present and future, fade away.

In 1997 all this happened in a place where greed for land caused, and still causes, a constant toll of death and silence; in a place where one worked, and still works, without pause in the chemical process capable of compressing the perception of time, and where, to round off, the radio in the buses was determined in turning the future, and hence history, in the chained reiteration of the same old songs.

A text not yet written about these drawings would tell that in 1997 when the "undo" function just started to adjust everything so quietly, I managed to live a great epiphany of softened perception thanks to marijuana.

“And if the grass softens the time, cinema parks it and reading permits the coexistence of parallel times, what the "undo" function achieves is to overturn it, confusing and stunning their orders with only the touch of a finger.”

A text not yet written about these drawings would wonder if today, thirteen years later, one can do some marihuano drawings again. But this time without the help of said substance, while maintaining that sense of freedom and the possibility to break constantly one’s own path. That way of drawing with and against yourself at the same time. With the desire of not being faithful to anything or anyone. Pretending not to say anything and wanting to tell everything.

A text not yet written about these drawings would wonder if the only drawings of which one is able - like the erection of the hanged man or the flailings of a drowned man - are no other thing than prisoner drawings. Drawings condemned not to be other thing but the repetition of the same ways as always, the same tricks, the mere confirmation of what is known. The impossibility of escape.

A text not yet written about these drawings would tell how they have been made between these two poles, coming and going from one extreme to another.

Between Lima and Bogota in November 2010.

*****

Los Dibujos Marihuanos
Raimond Chaves

Un texto aún no escrito a propósito de estos dibujos debería contar de una serie de asuntos aparentemente inconexos. Sería necesario relatar en él cosas sucedidas hace mucho tiempo y referir algunas peripecias de índole personal. Quizás fuera necesario aventurar alguna relación entre estos dibujos, hechos como en el aire, y la percepción flotante que hoy día tenemos del tiempo y el espacio y esa sensación de que la historia se volvió fugaz y esquiva. No estaría de más tampoco establecer algún tipo de vínculo con las experiencias que ciertos escritores como Benjamin y artistas como Michaux desarrollaron en su momento con el hachís y la mescalina. Y de pronto habría que contarlo todo ello de manera que quedaran desactivadas la frivolidad y los prejuicios que el nombre pueda acarrear consigo.

Un texto aún no escrito a propósito de estos dibujos contaría que en 1997 con Carolina Caycedo tras callejear bajo la lluvia y fumar harta marihuana dibujábamos en grandes pliegos de papel sin otro motivo que disfrutar y celebrar que estábamos vivos y contentos. Que dibujábamos en el piso, sobre la cama o sobre las mesas. Que los dibujos salían a partir de cualquier cosa y lo hacían a una, dos, tres y a cuatro manos. Que cortábamos y pegábamos no importaba qué. Que a solas o juntos los dibujos marihuanos crecían y se amontonaban.

Un afiche de una cantante retocado insolentemente, unos retratos seriados encabezando el papel cuyas lágrimas descendían hasta el borde inferior del pliego. Explosiones, fugas, remolinos, garabatos, trazos herméticos de tan íntimos, todo arbitrario de tan vehemente.

Un texto aún no escrito a propósito de estos dibujos señalaría cómo en 1997 se dieron una serie de asuntos que trece años más tarde permiten ser leídos como una significativa coincidencia.

En 1997, para mi, el tiempo dejó de existir al encontrarme con la función “deshacer”, esa posibilidad de la escritura en computador que hizo que el tiempo mantuviese intacta su carcasa hecha de medidas, términos y frases hechas, pero que la relación entre sus órdenes más convencionales, esto es entre pasado, presente y futuro, se esfumara.

En 1997 eso se dio en un lugar, donde la ambición por la tierra provocaba -y provoca- una constante cuota de muerte y silencio; donde también se trabajaba -y se trabaja- sin pausa en el proceso químico capaz de comprimir la percepción del tiempo y en donde, para redondear, la radio en los buses se empeñaba en convertir el devenir, y por ende la historia, en la reiteración encadenada de las mismas y añejas canciones.

Un texto aún no escrito a propósito de estos dibujos contaría que en 1997 cuando la función “deshacer” recién empezaba a reglarlo todo de manera callada, alcancé a vivir una suerte de gran epifanía de la percepción reblandecida gracias a la marihuana.

Y si la yerba ablanda el tiempo, el cine lo aparca y la lectura permite la coexistencia de tiempos paralelos, la función “deshacer” lo que logra es anularlo a punta de confundir y marear sus órdenes con sólo mover un dedo.

Un texto aún no escrito a propósito de estos dibujos se preguntaría si hoy, trece años después, es posible volver a hacer unos dibujos marihuanos -esta vez sin la ayuda de dicha sustancia- pero manteniendo ese sentido de libertad, esa posibilidad de quiebre constante con la propia ruta, ese dibujar con y contra uno mismo a la vez. Con el anhelo de no serle fieles a nada ni nadie. No queriendo decir nada para contarlo todo.

Un texto aún no escrito a propósito de estos dibujos se preguntaría si es que de los únicos dibujos de los que uno es capaz, como sucede con la erección del ahorcado, o los manotazos del ahogado no son más que dibujos de prisionero. Dibujos condenados a no ser otra cosa que reiteración de las mismas maneras de siempre, de las mismas mañas, mera confirmación de lo sabido. Imposibilidad de fuga.

Un texto aún no escrito a propósito de estos dibujos contaría como estos han sido hechos entre estos dos polos, yendo y viniendo de un extremo a otro.

Entre Lima y Bogotá a noviembre de 2010.

http://www.puiqui.com