Sobre El Muro - Spencer Byrne

SOBRE
EL
MURO
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SOBREELMURO/OVERTHEWALL
PORTLAND/HAVANA
MARCH/2012
Sobre El Muro
(c) 2012
Contributors:
Samuel Ashman
Drew Lenihan
Anna Daggett
Participants:
Samuel Ashman
Drew Lenihan
Spencer Byrne-Seres
Matt Mulligan
Taylor Wallau
Tim Howe
Karen Taylor
Maria Boyer
Kati Haas
Anna Daggett
Miranda Lancaster-Moore
Samir Bernárdez Cabrera
Héctor Remedios Fernández
Yadniel Padrón Aguilera
Nora Ochoa González
Martha Julia Borrell Catalá
Linet Sanchez
Fernándo Reyna
Adrián Curbelo
Advisor:
Elliott Young
Edited by:
Spencer Byrne-Seres
Samuel Ashman
Drew Lenihan
Design:
Spencer Byrne-Seres
Printed by:
Publication Studio
Portland, OR
Preface
Written by:
Samuel Ashman
Inspirado por los trasfondos políticos
de mucho del arte en la Oncena Bienal de
La Habana, Sobre el Muro es un proyecto
dirigido a mostrar la capacidad de un discurso valioso a través de culturas a pesar del
desacuerdo entre Cuba y los Estados Unidos.
En marzo de 2012, un grupo diverso de 11
estudiantes universitarios de Lewis & Clark
College representando cada uno de los cuatro años y ocho distintas carreras, viajaron a
la Habana para establecer un intercambio de
culturas entre artistas cubanos y estudiantes
de arte. En Cuba, los estudiantes se reunieron con artistas que estaban involucrados en
un proyecto colateral de la Bienal llamado,
“Detrás del Muro.” Detrás del Muro llevó la
obra de 25 artistas al paseo simbólico de la
Habana, el malecón. Mientras que la mayoría
de los artistas eran cubanos, habían artistas
de varios lugares y perspectivas incluyendo
Colombia, Puerto Rico, España, y la diáspora
cubana. Cargado de importancia cultural, el
malecón es un lugar arquetípico para el arte
público. Uno podría decir que es el lugar más
visitado en la ciudad tanto por extranjeros
como habaneros igualmente. Sin embargo,
más que un lugar de encuentro o un buen
sitio para sacar fotos, el malecón está lleno
de simbolismo. Al trazar la frontera de la isla,
el malecón es tanto un límite físico como un
recuerdo del límite de lo que Cuba le puede
ofrecer a su población. Para mucha de la gente entonces, el malecón es el lugar de desempeño para preguntas sobre otros gobiernos
y culturas, preguntas sobre lo que hay detrás
del muro.
Detrás del Muro acentúa la dualidad que
tiene el malecón como símbolo cultural y
de limitación. Todas las piezas, menos una,
fueron diseñadas específicamente para el
sitio. La pieza de Arlés del Río, “Fly Away,”
consiste en la silueta de un avión en una
alambrada. Sólo se puede ver la silueta con
bastante espacio entre el espectador y la
obra, y un espacio abierto detrás de ella.
Así, Del Río usa y se incorpora a la escala
del sitio en la pieza con eficacia. Al otro lado
de la avenida, Adonis Flores aprovecha un
andamio que ha sido puesto para apoyar
un antiguo edificio. Esto se ve mucho en la
Habana ya que los edificios que no pueden
ser restaurados por razones de recursos
Inspired by the political undertones of
much of the artwork in the Eleventh Havana
Biennial, Sobre el Muro is a project aimed
at demonstrating the capacity for valuable
cross-cultural discourse despite political dissidence between Cuba and the United States.
In March of 2012, a diverse group of 11 Lewis
& Clark undergraduate students from eight
different majors and all four class years,
traveled to Havana in order to establish a
cultural exchange with Cuban artists and art
students. In Cuba, students met with artists
involved in a public art project in the Biennial entitled “Detrás del Muro” (Behind the
Wall). Detrás del Muro brought the work of
25 artists to Havana’s symbolic seawall, the
malecón. While the artists were predominately Cuban, the project involved artists from
various places and perspectives including
Columbia, Puerto Rico, Spain, and the Cuban
Diaspora. Laden with cultural significance,
the malecón is an archetypal venue for public
art. It is arguably the most frequented place
in the city by locals and foreigners alike.
But other than a meeting place or the site of
many photo opportunities, the malecón is
rich in symbolism. Tracing the island’s border, the malecón serves as a physical limit as
well as a reminder of the limit to what Cuba
has to offer its populace. For many, the malecón is thus the jumping off point for questions about other governments and cultures,
questions into what lies behind the wall.
Detrás del Muro accents the duality of
the malecón as both a cultural landmark and
a symbol of restraint. Save for one work, all
of the pieces in the project were designed
specifically for the site. Arlés Del Río’s piece,
“Fly Away,” is the silhouette of an airplane
cut into a chain link fence. The silhouette is
only visible with sufficient space between
the viewer and the work, and an open space
behind it. As such, Del Río effectively relies
upon and incorporates the scale of the site
into his piece. Across the street, Adonis
Flores takes advantage of a scaffold installed
to support a deteriorating building. This is
a common sight in Havana, as many buildings that cannot be repaired due to a lack of
resources are supported to prevent collapse.
Mounted on the scaffolding in Flores’ piece
are flattened pieces of rusted metal spell-
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“Fe”
by Adonis Flores
“Fly Away”
by Arlés del Río
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están apoyados ante de que se derrumben.
Para su pieza, Flores montó pedazos de metal
aplanados y oxidados en el andamio en los
cuales se escribe la palabra ‘Fe.’ Mientras
que ‘Fe’ es la denominación química para el
hierro, en español la palabra también significa el concepto mismo de fe. Por lo tanto, la
pieza sugiere que si recursos como el hierro
siguieran siendo disponibles, es más una
cuestión de fe. Ambas piezas de Del Río y
Flores pueden ser interpretadas como obras
de disidencia política. Pero si uno le pregunta
a los artistas si tienen intenciones polémicas,
no simplificarían la obra a una crítica del
gobierno. Mientras que “Fly Away” puede
ser leída como un adelantamiento a deseos
de irse de la isla, para Del Río la pieza es más
un lugar donde se puede escapar del perjuicio; no tiene necesariamente, un mensaje
político. Flores también mantiene que su
pieza es polisémica. Por eso parece que estas
obras no sólo ofrezcan una crítica política,
sino que están dirigidos a interactuar con los
que pasan por el malecón. Sin embargo, por
el interés que tienen tantos cubanos sobre
el mundo detrás del malecón, las obras de
Detrás del Muro seguramente evocarán preguntas sobre el gobierno y de sus relaciones
internacionales. La obra de Del Río instiga al
tema de tránsito y el deseo de viajar afuera
de la isla. Por lo tanto, “Fly Away” puede ser
entendido como un mandato para el poder
de intercambiar con otras culturas, algo que
la mayoría de los cubanos no pueden hacer
por razones políticas.
Motivado por arte tan vocal, los estudiantes de Lewis & Clark formaron pares con
estudiantes del Instituto Superior de Arte de
la Habana para crear obras de arte colaborativas con una voz compartida. A través del
mutuo trabajo, cada par expresa un concepto
hecho en colaboración a pesar de las diferencias de perspectiva. Así es que cada proyecto
muestra la capacidad de un consenso aún
las diferencias de origen. Algunos de los
proyectos fueron concebidos y terminados
en marzo, mientras que otros crecieron tras
las semanas y meses que siguieron, promoviendo el intercambio de ideas y valores.
Lo que resultó fueron obras de varios medios, pero con el mismo tema. Lo céntrico
de cada proyecto es la idea que aunque hay
ing the word ‘Fe.’ While ‘Fe’ is the chemical
designation for iron, in Spanish the word also
means faith. Flores’ piece thus suggests that
whether resources like iron will remain available, is a contingent matter of faith. Both del
Río and Flores’ pieces can be interpreted as
works of political dissent, but ask the artists
whether their intentions are polemic and they
are reluctant to reduce their work simply to
a critique of government. While “Fly Away”
can be read as encouraging desires to leave
the island, for del Río the piece serves as a
place to escape from all sorts of prejudice
and does not necessarily carry a political
commentary. Flores too insists that his piece
is open to a variety of interpretations apart
from those concerning political commentary.
So it seems that these works aren’t meant to
offer a political critique as much as they are
aimed at interacting with those that visit the
malecón. But because there is so much curiosity in Cuba regarding the world beyond the
malecón, the works in Detrás del Muro are
bound to evoke responses that involve the
questioning of government and international
relations. Del Río’s piece incites associations
with transit and the desire to travel outside
of the island. Therefore, “Fly Away” can be
interpreted as a call for the freedom to interface with other cultures, something that most
Cubans are denied for political reasons.
Motivated by such vocal artwork, Lewis &
Clark students formed pairs with students at
Havana’s Instituto Superior de Arte in order
to create collaborative works of art with a
shared voice. In working together each pair
expresses a concept developed cooperatively
in spite of differences in perspective. Each
project thereby demonstrates the potential
for consensus apart from differences in background. Some of the projects were conceived
and completed in March, while others developed over the weeks and months that followed, furthering the exchange of ideas and
values. What resulted were works of art from
a wide range of media, but with a common
theme. Central to each project is the idea
that although there are barriers between the
people of Cuba and the United States, there
is room for fruitful social discourse. Sobre
el Muro brings attention to this space for substantive cultural exchange while stressing its
un bloqueo entre la gente cubana y la gente
estadounidense, existe un espacio para un
discurso social. Sobre el Muro llama la atención a este espacio de intercambio social con
sustancia mientras que indica la importancia
de ello en la comunidad global.
Las obras en Sobre el Muro elaboran el
motivo de Detrás del Muro; un muro físico
sirve como una metáfora para barreras
más abstractas. EL muro al que se refiere
Sobre el Muro es el que está en contra de
colaboraciones como estas. Desde la falta de
diplomacia entre Cuba y los Estados Unidos
sigue una falta de intercambio social. Sin
embargo, las obras de Sobre el Muro representan relaciones interpersonales fuertes que
crecen a pesar de las barreras políticas. Aquí,
arte es el barco donde se pueden juntar dos
culturas que de otra manera hubieran estado
apartadas. El arte sobrepasa la división física
entre cada artista por crear un espacio donde
la colaboración puede seguir existiendo. Las
obras fueron concebidas en Cuba y exhibidas
en los Estados Unidos para que sean contempladas desde ambos lados del muro.
importance in the global the community.
The works in the exhibit elaborate upon
the motif in Detrás del Muro of a physical
wall serving as a metaphor for more abstract
barriers. Literally, “Sobre el Muro” translates
to “on top of the wall.” However, it could
also be taken to mean “over the wall,” or
even, “about the wall.” Like many of the
works in Detrás del Muro, the title “Sobre el
Muro” is open to various interpretations. But
what is consistent in each of these interpretations is the presence and significance of
a barrier. The wall under consideration in
Sobre el Muro is that which keeps collaborations like this one from taking place. From
the lack of diplomacy between Cuba and the
United States follows a lack of social intercourse. However, the pieces in this exhibit
represent fulfilling interpersonal relationships that developed in spite of political barriers. Here, artwork is the vessel for crosscultural intercourse between two cultures
that are otherwise kept at a distance. The
artwork thus transgresses the physical divide
between each artist by creating a space
where the collaboration continues to exist.
The works were conceived in Cuba and are
exhibited in the United States in order to be
contemplated from both sides of the wall.
Initital meeting between students
from Lewis & Clark and the ISA
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The Exhibition/La Exhibición
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SOMEWHERE BETWEEN IDENTITY AND PLACE:
a testament to new dialogues in
SOBRE EL MURO
By Drew Lenihan
Havana and Portland are two cities in the
Americas that appear on the surface to be
a world apart; one tropical, sunny, with the
heir of a lost identity in a struggle of colonial,
communist and contemporary idiosyncrasies;
the latter, rainy and hidden in the forests
of the northwest, in a constant flux to define and redefine itself, an amalgamation of
pastiche individualism. While vastly different
in geography, climate and language, the two
cities share a certain daring vibrancy in their
permissive tolerance for the arts and their
acceptance of collective, vanguard-driven
art and radical self-expression. Both cities
seem to push and redraw the boundaries of
what can constitute art and this definition is
pragmatically played out in a public, shared
experience.
In Havana, as Cuban artist Duvier Del
Dago once told me, citizens approach art
with a more critical eye than he has seen in
other parts of the world and interact with the
work poetically, intimately trying to extract
its deepest meaning and metaphor and apply
it to their own human condition. On the Havana streets or the malecon, the historically
and culturally charged seafront promenade,
you will find Cubans discussing the arts
openly amongst each other, be it a frustrating conversation about government censored
hip-hop group los aldeanos or collectively
lending critical eyes to the newest work from
Cuban rock star artist Kcho.
Similarly in Portland, this social democratization of art occurs with hipsters passionately discussing the influence of artist Donald
Judd outside of a cafe or groups of artists
assembling to manifest their creative energy
in the PICA’s Time Based Art Festival. Essentially, both cities have the grand and often
mysterious potential to organically produce
creative minds, and subsequently, a visual
creative dialogue amongst its own citizens.
It therefore seemed appropriate, if not
completely necessary to bring young emerging artists and minds from theses two artistic
havens together through the project you now
hold in your hand, Sobre el Muro or as its
translated from the Spanish, Upon the Wall.
Student-artists from the Instituto Superior de
Arte, the premier art university in Cuba and
Lewis & Clark College, a small liberal arts
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Attendees viewing Bichito de Luz, a
documentary about Detrás del Muro,
a collateral project for the 11th
Havana Biennial
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school in the hills of Portland came together to
construct a theoretical foundation to promote artistic discourse between their countries and then
to create art collectively as a means to overcome
the structures and ideological differences that bar
us from freely collaborating.
The process towards the final projects you
will see in this catalog had many barriers placed
in its way; many muros or walls challenged
the group to climb over and discover their own
shared creative experience. Most notoriously, the
American embargo against Cuban socialism, one
of the most outdated and outwardly blind American foreign policies to date, had to be circumvented through the educational merit loophole
found in American sanctions against Cuba. Education and art became our tools or in some interpretations, our excuses to build the boat to carry
ideas and passions between two institutions of
knowledge. This occurred during March of 2012
in the cupulas or dome shaped studio workshops
of the ISA and around the city of Havana. Later,
the project came to full fruition with an exposition
at Lewis & Clark College’s Hoffman Gallery for
two weeks the following August.
Initially, fellow trip leader and curator Samuel
Ashman and I thought that the scope of the artistic dialogue between young Cubans and Americans would primarily focus on the embargo that
politically polarized the group of peers. Theoretically, the overarching goal of the project would
be a transcendence of political ideology through
whatever creative medium necessary. However, once we reached Cuba and as the projects
evolved, it became evident that the politics did
not manifest in the themes of the art. As we sat
together upon the wall looking out towards both
countries, critiquing the blind ignorance of the
US’ foreign policy and the frozen iron fist of the
Castro regime, we discussed the frustrations we
had with our respective political landscape and
then realized that this political quandary didn’t
necessarily translate into art we were intending to
nor the dialogue we sought to learn from.
As we moved away from the politics, the
dialogue we so desired resolved itself through
the exercise in collaboration; it transformed into
what passions we shared and how these passions
or the anxieties that compelled us to make art
manifested. Ultimately, the process of creating
concepts and fulfilling these ideas through the
objects you see was the conversation. Artists
Kati Haas and Adrián Curbelo bonded over their
love of installation, sculpture and the principle of putting more emphasis on the process
rather than the final object. Speaking to the
process, they brought in more members of
the collaborative group to partake in a dinner
party where we were encouraged to eat, drink,
talk, and sketch. Later these conversations and
specific moment in time translated into their
installation of a table cloth embroidered with
drawings and texts from the dinner.
More conventionally, others in the group
embraced the differences between us rather
than what we shared in common. Collaborators Taylor Wallau and Fernándo Reyna’s work
addresses the difficulty of overcoming the
language barrier between Cubans and Americans. As paraphrased from their artist statement: “We each chose books that were written
in our native tongues that inspired our artistic
processes and we attempted to alter the pages
in a manner that transcends the written words
and that may be associated with our respective
homelands.”
Thus the conclusive, visual dialogue of the
work became more powerful and meaningful
than a typical, verbal conversation about art
could ever be. The artists were able to teach
each other about what inspires them to make
art, remarkably without the use of language.
Therefore, they articulated their deepest understanding of what drives and inspires them in an
alternative manner. In addition to the collaborative nature of helping each other upon the
wall towards the final dialogue, the exercise
was in the full sense of the word, self-reflective;
the artist teaching the other while teaching
themselves again why they made art in the first
place.
In terms of mere logistics, access to materials in Cuba challenged our creative spirit
and one collaboration directly critiqued the
significance of personal materials. The group,
comprised of photographer Miranda LancasterMoore, artist Time Howe and Cuban artists
Yadniel Padrón-Aguilera and Nora OchoaGonzález decided to use personal items they
held most dear to them as their medium. By
placing them in water and oil and shooting
them with a macro lens on a digital camera, the
group redefined the meaning of their personal
affects while destroying the muro of accessibility of raw materials. This relinquishment
of material illustrates a sacrifice for the sake
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of art. The project also imagines a means to
discover what each individual held dearest
and ultimately to bring the four artists closer
by assimilating each others material narratives. The final series of photos are warm,
intimate, and have a sense of dreamy surrealism. If material, regardless of meaning,
surrounds us, then art is omnipresent.
The time we had to work in Cuba was
limited and the most imposing parameter
in the collaborative process. A collective
passion to make the most of the time we
had and to spontaneously create with what
was momentarily at our disposal gave the
projects the heir of arte pour le arte, a corner stone of modern art’s mentality. In other
words, the participating artists became collaboratively passionate because the creative
energy surrounded us as we emitted and
communicated it to one another.
Maria Boyer and Marta Borrell-Catalá,
both relatively new to visual art and from
musical backgrounds, used the collaboration as a way to push each other to experiment with new media and develop a series
of paintings on paper. Said Boyer, “On one
of our final days in Havana, Marta set me up
in her studio floor with paper, an enormous
array of paints, and an instruction to use only
my hands (and feet, as I later employed) so
that the art would be flowing as organically
as possible from within us to the paper. In
the work are the products of a human and
artistic connection which transcended political, social, economic, border, ideological, and
even linguistic boundaries. These are symbolic of elements of our personal freedom.”
While transcending these boundaries, the
two broke free into something experimental
and taught each other freedom is not always
clean, but messy and daring, something we
must achieve by overcoming personal doubt
or insecurity Their series of paintings on
paper say to the viewer, art is not a landmark
one arrives at, but a road that one travels,
sometimes never knowing the final destination or place.
Sobre el Muro started in Portland,
emerged as a physicality and dialogue in
Havana and then presented formally back in
Portland. Convexly, our dialogues continue
to grow through different lenses, one Ameri-
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can, one Cuban, and one as a shared understanding of combined viewpoints, media, and
passion. The lens interchanges from one to another but the artist is free to return to their native lens, or modify it. Two artists directly confronted this. In Spencer Bryne-Seres and Héctor
Remedios Fernández Standard Landscape, the
viewer sees a time-lapsed video of sunsets
from Havana and Portland. The same sun occasionally syncs together, evoking the notion that
we are one, but also veers off. As they wrote in
their artist statement, “Although the arc of both
suns remains the same, the landscapes are
blended, creating a visual and temporal space
that represents the artists’ creative and collaborative process.” This process, this fantastical
space, allows the artists to acknowledge their
shared experience in the sun while seeing their
own difference in context and then uniting to
create their own spatial identities.
Throughout and after this process, even
right now, new dialogues, friendships and
ideas are forming and they continue to evolve
and manifest, regardless of idiom, media, or
nationality. A new shared space, neither American nor Cuban yet both at the same time, is
ultimately what Sobre el Muro created. It is an
autonomous space and dialogue that redefines
and mixes identities and places. Through the
internet, verbally, through hand signals, the
paintbrush, our gallery show, or this catalog,
the project continues to broaden and enrich
these autonomous spaces where artists are free
to explore unknown dialogues in experimental
ways. We are not bound to some fixed identity
a government lays out for us, but explore and
borrow these shared identities as we move
through life. Sobre el Muro, in essence, was not
some cliche cultural exchange that’s intention
is to stress difference and then pick apart what
separates us, but an experiment in acknowledging difference and moving forward towards
a new conversation in what we can potential
share and learn from each other. If we spend
too much time taking down the wall, and no
time figuring out how to build our own, then
we’ll be stranded where this collaborative process began, as an idea floating through the air
but sin lugar, to start the next dialogue.
THE WORKS/LAS OBRAS
Tim Howe, Bend, OR
Miranda Lancaster-Moore, Denver, CO
Nora Ochoa González, Camagüey, CU
Yadniel Padrón Aguilera, Camagüey, CU
Untitled
Digital prints, 20”x24”
Our distance is what initially separates
us, but ultimately binds us. Without noticable difference we are blind to what
similarities might be staring back. The
items we hold dear, or even the items we
hold because we must, become the landmarks that show our unique histories, but
at the same time present themselves as
emotional common ground.
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Héctor Remedios Fernández, Sancti Spíritus, CU
Spencer Byrne-Seres, Santa Fe, NM
Paisaje Estandar/Standard Landscape
Video installation
Paisaje Estandar/Standard Landscape is a
collaborative project by Spencer ByrneSeres (USA) and Hector Remedio (Cuba).
Footage was shot from two locations, one
in Portland, OR and the other in Havana,
Cuba on May 4th, 2012. The videos create a 6 hour continuous shot of the sun,
viewed from two different locations; 3
hours of footage were shot at each location, beginning at 6:00 p.m. and ending
at 9:00 p.m. Although the arc of both
suns remains the same, the landscapes are
blended, creating a visual and temporal
space that represents the artists’ creative and collaborative process in producing the videos.
Paisaje Estandar/Standard Landscape is
part of a larger project between the two
artists titles Dialogo/Dialogue. These
collaborative works all focus on initiating dialogues through the investigation
of commonalities concerned with meanings
of place, time, synchronicity, and history.
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Paisaje Estandar/Standard Landscape
Héctor Remedios Fernández and Spencer
Byrne-Seres
Installation views:
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Opposite and previous page:
Samuel Ashman, Santa Fe, NM
Samir Bernárdez Cabrera, Camagüey, CU
Samir and I met for the first time in
March of 2012 and tasked ourselves with
producing a collaborative piece. Despite
our differences in perspective we found
that we have many similarities in opinion. This discovery was made over the
course of our conversations in person
and by other means after leaving Cuba.
What is for certain is that Samir and I
developed a meaningful inter-personal
relationship. What is uncertain is how
this relationship is quantified. Is
it measured by the brief time we spent
together, the emails we exchanged, the
files we shared? There is an abstract
wall between Samir and I that makes it
difficult to identify in what our relationship consists. And on display is the
contra-positive of that wall. Here, a
concrete wall demonstrates the substance
of our relationship. Only through the
construction of the wall can the product
be revealed.
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Matt Mulligan
Untitled
Archival digital prints
La Habana breathes with a vitality
frozen in time, as a mix of beauty
and nostalgia leak from its seams.
To exist within the city’s limits
evokes an inspiration of creativity while simultaneously embracing
one with the heat of the sun and the
weight of political stagnation. This
photographic series hopes to reflect
the pace of cyclical existence and
display the beauty of what it is to
reminisce.
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Opposite:
Taylor Wallau, Palo Alto, CA
Fernando Reyna, Bayamo, CU
Books, string, ink, oil and acrylic
paint
As human beings, we rely on verbal language as our main method of communication; we use words for everything, but
they can also rapidly become one of the
most significant barriers between individuals. While I was in Cuba, I was
able to form a connection with a Cuban
art student, Fernando Reyna, who does
not speak any English. Although I studied Spanish in high school, my ability
to communicate with a native speaker is
limited, so we were forced to overcome
the obstacle by improvising and finding
other means of communication, such as
visual language. Both Fernando and myself are passionate about literature and
philosophy, in addition to the visual
arts, and we have both experimented with
incorporating language into our work.
For our collaborative project, we decided that it would be appropriate to
explore the relationship between language and visual media, by using books
as the medium for our piece. We each
chose books that were written in our
native tongues, by authors that have inspired our artistic processes, and that
may be associated with our respective
homelands. Each book alteration portrays
a unique reading and interpretation of
the content. More importantly, we attempted to alter the pages in a manner that transcends the written words,
because the viewers may not understand
the language that is used by the original author. The result is intended to
form a visual expression of ourselves
and our experiences, which are unified
by the process of our collaboration on
this piece. Through visual art, even in
its most basic element of mark making,
we found that we are able to communicate
something more abstract, and perhaps
more essential than what we could explain using words.
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Papal Noise
Siempre
This was the first work I completed under the
nose of my artist partner Martha. Several days
into our stay in Havana, Pope Benedict (El Papa)
made the first papal appearance in Cuba for well
over 35 years. At this scene, I became intensely
aware of the caucophony of simultaneously occurring sounds pouring out of Catholics and drunken
agnostics alike, from the Cuban choir, drone
airplanes, and screeching traffic. Overwhelmed
by the profundity on many different levels, I
immediately began constructing a work of music (I can’t truly call it a song) encompassing
the aural and physical power and power I found
riveting and palpable. This painting was my attempt at capturing the music I had been hearing
on repeat in my head, unable to express while
in Cuba, through paint on paper. This was an
accomplishment I had previously thought impossible for me, but with Marta’s guidance, I feel
I somewhat succeeded.
The culmination of my first day spent
painting since I was too young to have
enough self-doubt. Rooted in this is the
theme of the power of joined forces, of
joined hands. Through the claiming of
one’s own power via the use of both of
one’s hands, or through the meeting of
minds and forces between different minds
and bodies. Siempre, meaning “always” in
Spanish, is one of my favorite words,
phonetically and in simple meaning, in
the Spanish language. Here I wanted to
express the necessity and eternal nature
of expression of the self through art,
through music, all visual art forms,
and the endless possibilities for their
intersection.
Page 24
Maria Boyer, Raleigh, NC
Martha Julia Borrell, Catalá, Las Tunas,
CU
Oil and acrylic paint on paper
No Wrong Side of the Tracks
To create this, I used every facet of my
bare hands and bare feet, particularly
my clenched right fist, to create this.
This speaks to a crossroads, an exodus,
a disapora, a cultural exchange, immigration, emigration. Also brought to
mind was the concept of animal migration, the tenacity of willing, biannual
change of location for survival purposes, and the intense power of that.
Animals know no national boundaries. Essentially, we all own the world, we are
all residents of Earth, we all have much
to give and give back.
Having never before considered myself a
visual artist in any sense of the word
and only a musician where “art” is concerned, the presentation and even mere
existence of these works you see hanging here is monumental for me. This is a
direct product of the exchange of ideas,
confidence, encouragement, and inspiration between myself and the amazing
Marta, my partner with whom I joined
forces at the ISA. Marta, a passionate music lover and former piano student
herself, connected with me sincerely
over the invisibile limitations that exist between using a variety of artistic
mediums to express, and the fear that
can accompany breaking down the walls
of taboo and the nervousness associated
with imperfection. Through a tedious and
beautiful process of communication using Spanish, English, hand signs, drawings, singing, and facial expressions,
we began to build a connection, emotionally and artistically, of a sort I have
never had the opportunity to build ever
before. She forced me out of my protective bubble, encouraged me not only to
just paint, but to paint the music that
I hear in my head and that I compose,
as she has been doing in her own way
for years. On one of our final days in
Havana, Marta set me up in her studio
floor with paper, an enormous array of
paints, and an instruction to use only
my hands (an feet, as I later employed)
so that the art would be flowing as organically as possible from within me to
the paper. Before you are the products
of a human and artistic connection which
transcended political, social, economic,
border, ideological, and even linguistic
boundaries. Also, these are symbolic of
an element of my personal freedom.
Page 25
Kati Haas, Sonoma, CA
Adrián Curbelo, Camagüey, CU
Untitled
Embroidery, cloth, rice, plantains,
beans, ceramic bowls
It starts with a dinner, continues with
an offering.
Connections and digestion. Remembering
and creating. This is the present. How do
we spread it in all directions? It is not
the thing, it is the action.
Empieza con una cena, continua con una
oferta.
Connecciones y digestión. Recordando y
creando. Este es el presente. ¿Cómo lo
extendemos en todas direcciónes? No es la
cosa, es la acción.
Page 26
Below and reverse:
Untitled
Kati Haas, Sonoma, CA
Adrián Curbelo, Camagüey, CU
Installation views:
Page 27
Page 28
Liberty of Movement in Havana
and the Art Industry
By
1
G. Edward Ebanks, “Urbanization in
Cuba,” PSC Discussion Papers Series
(1998): 4.
2
3
Ebanks, “Urbanization in Cuba,” 4.
“Decree 217: Heightened control of
internal movement,” last modified June
1999, Cubanet, http://www.cubanet.org/
ref/dis/09270201.htm
One of our most fundamental rights as
humans is our right to movement. Our right
to movement ensures our ability to fulfill our
aspirations, to start anew, to return and raise
a family, to make a better life for oneself or
one’s family. Our history, our ancestry, is
a heavy flow of migration, each generation
moving anew, following their own dreams,
sprouting, flowering, and eventually decaying, but knowing that the new generation
carries on. The liberty of movement is a
gateway to hope and to greater possibilities
for the future. In conflict with human rights
ideologies, many governments have established restrictions to migration, both internal
and international. In Cuba, there are laws that
prohibit Cubans from rural providences to
move to Havana without the government’s
permission. These restrictions block many
Cuban citizens from the benefits of city life.
When I first became interested in these ruralurban restrictions in Cuba, I assumed that in
the art industry, it must be necessary to live
in Havana because it is the economic center
of Cuba. Foreign investment and interest in
Cuban art occurs in Havana, and to live as an
artist in Cuba, I thought that one must reside
and do business in Havana. Thus, my inclination was that Cuban migratory restrictions
must have an effect on aspiring artists. However, after speaking with several people that
I met in Cuba, Elvia Rosa Castro, an art critic
in Havana, and Linet Sanchez, an art student
at the ISA (Instituto Superior de Arte), I have
come to the conclusion that while living in
Havana benefits artists, one does not have
to live in Havana to be a successful artist
and that rural-urban migration restrictions in
Cuba can be overcome.
Since the dawn of the Cuban revolution,
governmental policies have slowed down
rural to urban migration and have affected
the growth of Havana. Some of the policies
focused on equalizing urban and rural wages,
while others restricted internal movement.
In 1997, 74% of Cuba’s population lived in
cities.2 According to the Population Refer-
Anna Daggett
ence Board in 1996, Cuba has a relatively low
level of urbanization compared to other Latin
American countries, such as Uruguay (90%),
Argentina (87%), and Chile (86%).2 Cuba’s
rate of urbanization since 1960 is the slowest
in Latin America and the Caribbean; meaning
governmental policies for curbing urbanization have been fairly effective. This could
be due to many factors, but the rural-urban
restrictions that Cuba has in place are probably a high contributor.
The most prominent rural-urban restriction is Decree 217. Decree 217 is a law that
created internal migratory regulations for Havana by requiring Cubans to obtain government permission before moving to Havana.
Fidel Castro passed Decree 217 on April 22,
1997 and justified implementing this decree
by stressing high rates of overcrowding and
crime in Havana, as well as stressing ensuring the security of Cuba. The Committees
for the Defense of the Revolution (CDRs),
pro-government groups that are said to be
“the eyes and ears of the revolution”, helped
Castro to gather information on potentially
illegal residents of Havana. Within a week
of signing Decree 217 into law, the Cuban
government deported around 1,600 “illegal”
Havana residents and threatened many other
residents with fines and the “obligation to
return immediately to their place of origin.”
Within a year, many more residents were
deported, but the constant flow of incoming
immigrants to Havana balanced this decline
in the city’s population from deportations.
In the end, the decree did not result in massive deportations, but the decree did and still
does effect incoming migrants to Havana,
who can not choose where to live and are
confronted by the police with demands for
papers and proof of legal residency.3
Decree 217 was passed just six years
after the collapse of the Soviet Union, which
resulted in a massive economic crisis for
Cuba because the Soviet Union, as one of
the largest socialist regimes world wide, was
their major source of income and monetary
Page 29
assistance. The Special Period (the period
after the collapse of the Soviet Union) was
a time of unprecedented economic hardship
for Cuba. When I asked Elvia if she knew of
Decree 217, she responded,
“Of course I know the law. It was
established in the Special Period as a
consequence of the avalanche of people
who came to the capital because it was
easier to earn a living there…In Havana,
there are homes in a miraculous static
condition, in danger of collapsing, where
more than twenty overcrowded people
live, and they take turns to sleep. While
one half sleeps, the other half sits on the
Malecón. The crowding was the result of
a huge population in a city that grew very
little in urban and construction terms.”
As is obvious from Elvia’s words, the
infrastructure of Havana could not handle
the swarms of people that have continued to
move to the capital in hope of a better future.
Decree 217 is still in effect today; however, it is hard to know if it is enforced well or if
it continues to pose challenges for incoming
migrants to Havana. While Decree 217 has
been used often to deport or harass political
dissidents, to keep overcrowding in the city
under control, and to decrease crime rates in
Havana, I was interested in how it affected
aspiring artists. I have not had a sufficient
amount of conversations and interviews with
Cuban artists to make any firm conclusions.
However, from the conversations that I have
had, it seems that aspiring artists born in
regions outside of Havana are largely unaffected by Decree 217 and other rural-urban
migration restrictions.
There are a number of things that enable
Cuban artists to overcome migratory restrictions, such as Decree 217. Elvia and Linet
both revealed that migration restrictions do
not apply to students of any type of school.
Linet, when speaking to if she had undergone any bureaucratic processes to move to
Havana, clarified that it is not necessary to
reside in the capital to study at the ISA, you
just have to pass the entrance exams. She
said, “People who don’t live in the capital live
in the school’s residence. So I did not have
to undergo any bureaucratic processes to
live in Havana during my studies at the ISA.”
Page 30
The migration restrictions do not apply to
students; however, they do present problems
for artists interested in living and working in
Havana after graduating.
Elvia mentioned that the majority of
artists that our group did studio visits with
when we went to Cuba were not native
“habaneros”, meaning they were not born in
Havana. This indicates that many artists who
have finished school and settled in Havana
have overcome the restrictions set in place
by Decree 217. While going to school, housing is not an issue. However, once graduated,
students must register where they are living
with the government, which can pose problems. As Elvia said,
“In one way or another, the graduates
of the ISA (Instituto del Superior de Arte)
or other schools find ways to live in Havana, first with temporary addresses and
other tricks. Now, with the sale of houses
legalized, the problem is subdued. In my
opinion, the artist that complains of being
from another province, (besides Havana)
and because of this, claims to not have
the luck of an artist from Havana, is simplistic and lazy. The fact is that not living
in Havana you have less information, less
exchange of ideas, and less access to
promotion. So then this artist is in disadvantage logically, because like in every
country less developed or not developed, everything always happens in the
capitals. But I always say that everything
depends on the will of the creator, look,
the person that I consider the best Cuban
documentary film maker of the moment
lived in Camaguey, his name is Gustavo
Pérez, and is now doing a fellowship in
New York. I have been writing since 1994
and I lived in Sancti Spíritus and already
people knew me. He who has aspirations can come to Havana and he who is
very talented could stay in Baracoa (an
extremely isolated town on the Eastern
tip of Cuba), and he would be known and
recognized.”
Elvia is saying that while living in the
capital is an advantage, if you are a talented
and driven artist, you will be recognized
wherever you are producing art in Cuba. She
emphasizes this by pointing out that many
4
Associated Press, “Cuba to Allow Thousands to Own Homes,” The New York Times,
April 12, 2008.
artists (including her and Gustavo Perez)
are from places outside of Havana and
have been extremely successful in their
careers, no matter where they reside.
In conclusion, Decree 217 and other
rural-urban migration restrictions have
had a relatively minimal impact on aspiring artists. These migration restrictions
are mostly aimed at keeping the serious
overcrowding problem in Havana under
control. In a 2008 New York Times article, they stated, “Cuba, which is home to
11.4 million people, suffers from a severe
housing shortage. Officials say half a
million additional homes are needed.”
4
This critical shortage and lack of new
housing development ensures that the
very poor areas of Havana are more
subject to enforcement of Decree 217. For
example, Elvia is from Sancti Spírtitus, a
city in the middle of Cuba. She moved to
Havana in 2000 and did not have to ask
permission from the government to move
because she moved to the “municipio
plaza”, a more wealthy area of Havana.
Decree 217 affects the poorer and overcrowded districts of Havana the most.
Students and people that can afford to
live and move to the wealthier districts in
Havana are mostly not affected by Cuban
migration restrictions. Overall, aspiring
artists born outside of Havana have the
ability to move to Havana to fulfill their
artistic goals. As Elvia said, “Everything
depends on the will of the creator.” If
the will and determination and talent are
there, bureaucratic procedures such as
Decree 217 don’t stand a chance of blocking Cuban artists from their dreams.
Students visiting with Jorge Fernández,
director of the Wifredo Lam Center.
Page 31
Special thanks:
Juan Delgado Calzadilla
Elvia Rosa Castro
Idalma Fontirroche
Elliott Young
Stuart Ashman
Julia Portela
Linda Tesner
Kirsten Fix
Marcia Lenihan
Casey McManemin
Maritza Urra
Jorge Fernández
Jorge Wellesley