On the internationalization of Cuban
art, the uses of engraving, and new art spaces in Havana
La Sexta Puerta, the studio-workshop of Ángel Ramírez (b. 1954,
La Habana), could also be a time machine—or maybe an art history class. The
artist himself could serve as a teacher, or he could let his works speak of the
connection to Romanesque art and show how in history there are processes that
are repeated or can be used in different contexts, even with centuries in
between.
In the enforced quiet of his workshop, two large colonial
windows separate Ramírez from the bustle of Obispo Street. From this hubbub, he
has distilled the essence of the street cries, popular sayings, and the gossip
of habaneros, transforming them into aesthetic impressions in various
formats. These works shake hands with literature, because for Ramírez the
relationship of text to image has been a constant—a clever way to combine
sensations and mix them with the medieval imagery that is never absent from his
art, and that helps him in explaining the context of here and now.
Ángel Ramírez, Llegas, preguntando por toda Cuba,
2014
Courtesy Ángel Ramírez
He acquired these aesthetic resources through his work as an
engraver—a technique he studied by sheer chance, he says, but which has served
as a linking element among all his works. Not even the latest technology can
replace the taste for playing with wood and metal. "My work tries to
communicate with an internal discourse that I enjoy while I’m creating it, but
I know that once finished, it can fall on good or bad terrain," the artist
remarks to Cuban Art News.
His works delineate the symbolic space of each stage of his
life. So it’s possible to identify thematic groupings that define identity, the
challenges of the diaspora, power, and hierarchy. But in all of them, the
figure of man is highlighted, with his social processes translated into
artistic motifs that provoke the viewer with suggestive titles: Darla Kara
(2004), Marchar Unidos (2004), Todo está Kuadrao (2005), Paciencia
mucha paciencia (2008) En su lugar descanse (2011), De noche y
ciego, siego (2012). In many of them, the artist repeats motifs, going from
woodcut to canvas and from sculpture to installation on a journey of great
dedication.
According to critics, the exhibition Kafé de la bodega
(2002) established Ángel Ramírez as a mature artist. But 13 years later, Ángel,
who is unusually modest for an artist, still tells us that he is not yet
established.
So, at what point in your career are you?
Right now, in a very sweaty one (laughs). I´ve worked hard for
many years and I don’t think it´s time to jump ahead and consider the future,
but rather to continue creating and to be true to myself, which is what
interests me most.
My work has been steady, but I´ve gone through different
periods. In my generation, we didn’t study to be artists, but rather to be art
teachers. We were all teachers of teachers. When I graduated, the idea of the
independent artist was just beginning, but it grew very slowly.
But art has moved on: previously, it was found in the biennials,
which are purely cultural institutions. Now art is found in fairs, which are
commercial institutions where galleries participate, not artists. Everything
has changed a lot. Artists who emerged in each of these stages have more easily
found their place. I have been in the middle.
However, we cannot say that your work has been limited, the
variety of media you use is proof of that. Do you prefer one medium over
another?
I prefer not to be bored. I don’t like to repeat, or to produce
too much. There are artists who put together a way to create and produce
infinitely. That's not bad, it's what works with the market. But it doesn´t
give me pleasure. I live on my creation and I have not starved.
What about the thematic groupings then?
The themes don’t vary too much: one is oneself, and also in
context. My work is almost journalistic in that sense, because I reflect what
is happening at the moment—what I live and what happens around me. That is the
constant in the work.
How do you assess the new trends in contemporary art?
I think you cannot do everything. People have their time and
their way of approaching creative work. These new trends will have to settle
down, and then we´ll have to discard. Although one thing does not replace the
other: throughout the world, people are still painting, making sculpture, and
creating works of all kinds. Photography didn’t finish off painting, cinema
didn’t end theater; they complement one another. The digital world has an
impact on painting, for example, but painting continues. Art is a means of
communication, and everyone invents his own story. Contemporary art is not necessarily
that which is tied to technology. With new media, you can frame an old
discourse, or vice versa.
But there are techniques, such as engraving, for example, which
are often avoided.
Engraving has to do with a way of thinking, a way of predicting
what will happen. And it also has the incentive of surprise, because in the end
unexpected things occur. There have been different historical reasons for
engraving. Right now, in Cuba, people are making works related to it but are
not considered prints as such. Because right now the need for multiple images
is not very important to Cubans.
Engraving is widely used to print copies of works that are very
successful, to be sold cheaper in the market. But in Cuba it’s the opposite: if
you make a printed image, you have to sell a complete edition in order to
recoup the investment you make when you sell just one picture or other work.
Engraving doesn’t make much sense. Great artists, such as Miró and Picasso,
experimented with engraving, played with technique. But that is past; there is
very little to do in this regard.
Nevertheless, for my work engraving was an important tool,
because it has another side: the manual work, a taste for wood or metal—all
that is in my work. Moreover, engraving teaches you to paint, helps you
organize. What has happened is that many engravers continue selling the
technique—that is, what you can achieve with it—and that is boring.
It’s what I was saying about video and new technologies: no
matter how new they are, you can get bored with them, if we limit ourselves to
video for the sake of video, or photography for the sake of photography. Right
now, there is too much engraving for its own sake. The boom of the 1990s, with
Belkis Ayón and Ibrahim Miranda, is very far from what is being done now,
although there is the occasional interesting project.
However, these are boom times for Cuban art, thanks to the new
social context in the country. Do you think the island could be identified as
the epicenter of art in this region?
Very good art is being made in Latin America. We sometimes think
we’re the navel of the world, but if we compare Cuban art with that made in
Brazil, Argentina, Mexico, or Colombia, we would see that our art is a little
disoriented and preoccupied with looking outside, rather than looking at
itself. Therefore, some works are empty, in the sense that the artists don’t
look at themselves, at the immediate source that an artist can have.
The internationalization of art is a sign of our times. Anyway,
there is good art production in Cuba and that is undeniable, especially because
people can have good educational training. Now, Cuba is also in a boom, and
people worldwide are very curious to come here before things change too much.
And that's largely thanks to the market…
In Cuba there is no art market. But the international market,
now more than ever, sets out the routes to follow. Many young artists are
guided by these commercial paradigms, and only think about what they can take
from this, how to do it so it fits into the international market.
In Cuba there is also a boom in the so-called studio-gallery,
which allows greater mobility of works. Could these spaces become some kind of
competition for official galleries?
I couldn’t say. There are many artists in Cuba, and these studio
spaces can’t cope with that. A serious gallery may represent 20 or 25 artists,
but consider that most of those 20 or 25 artists already have at least an
initial trajectory, some kind of preliminary recognition; there is not much to
be done for the many artists who have to work individually. That is true
throughout the world, but what happens here is that the galleries are not as
aggressive, to the extent that they prevent an artist from moving on unless
represented by the gallery. In Cuba, those officially represented can also work
independently.
Although there is no legal framework for establishing private
galleries.
No, but there is a space that nobody deals with. There are
beginning to emerge spaces that are not run by artists, but by critics or
curators independently, and who have a group of artists. For example, Factoría
Habana is a gallery run by and curated by a foreigner. I think that's
important, because a little competition doesn’t hurt.
Many Cuban artists were already exhibiting in the United States
before December 17, and many interested people in the art world have been
coming to Cuba. I don’t think anything spectacular will happen from now on. But
there are some who are too optimistic and others who are overly pessimistic,
which is ridiculous, because there is certainly a good chance that we will
continue to move forward. In the 1990s, hardly anyone knew what was going to
happen. Now at least there is a prospect of progressive movement.
Lianet Hernández (Artemisa, Cuba, 1989) Graduated in
journalism from the University of Havana. She works at Casa de las Americas and
often collaborates on Casa Contemporánea magazine.
Source:http://www.cubanartnews.org/