{"id":14578,"date":"2020-10-15T13:06:58","date_gmt":"2020-10-15T13:06:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/artjournalstg.wpenginepowered.com\/?p=14578"},"modified":"2020-11-18T15:43:08","modified_gmt":"2020-11-18T15:43:08","slug":"context-cursileria-and-sorrow-beatriz-gonzalez","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/artjournal.collegeart.org\/?p=14578","title":{"rendered":"Context, Cursiler\u00eda<\/em>, and Sorrow: Beatriz Gonz\u00e1lez"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

From Art Journal <\/em>79, no. 3 (Fall 2020)<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Ana Mar\u00eda Reyes. The Politics of Taste: Beatriz Gonz\u00e1lez and Cold War Aesthetics<\/em>.<\/strong> Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2019. 328 pp; 105 color ills. $104.99, $27.95 paper<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Beatriz Gonz\u00e1lez: A Retrospective.<\/em><\/strong> Exhibition organized by Tobias Ostrander and Mari Carmen Ram\u00edrez. P\u00e9rez Art Museum Miami, April 19\u2013September 2, 2019; Museum of Fine Arts Houston, October 27, 2019\u2013January 20, 2020<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tobias Ostrander and Mari Carmen Ram\u00edrez. Beatriz Gonz\u00e1lez: A Retrospective<\/em>.<\/strong> Exh. cat. New York: Prestel, 2019. 280 pp.; 200 color ills., 50 b\/w ills. $45<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

Posed the question \u201cWhat should be done first: approach the context or the particularities of the artistic practice?\u201d by the Museum of Modern Art\u2019s C-Map initiative, art historian Ana Mar\u00eda Reyes responded, \u201cA historian needs to understand the cultural, historical, social specificity of a moment of artistic creation and reception. . . . It would be irresponsible history to completely decontextualize art from its history.\u201d1<\/a><\/sup> Rich, multivalent context as means to weighing Colombian Beatriz Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s early artistic production (1964\u201370) is exactly what this assistant professor of Latin American art at Boston University offers readers with her monograph The Politics of Taste: Beatriz Gonz\u00e1lez and Cold War Aesthetics<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The author\u2019s analysis is buttressed by field research including access to the artist\u2019s personal archive, twelve hours of personal interviews with her, and archival work in Medell\u00edn, Colombia, all benefiting from institutional support including an award from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation and a Santander fellowship at the David Rockefeller Center for Latin American Studies at Harvard University. Reyes\u2019s skillfully crafted text is the first single-author monograph on the artist in English.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Making the difficult task of measuring reception appear easy, Reyes methodically organizes her study into five chapters, each considering art critical response to a particular exhibition in the chronological trajectory of the career of Beatriz Gonz\u00e1lez (b. 1938, Bucaramanga, Colombia). Through her reception narrative Reyes reveals aspects of Colombia\u2019s social anxieties, class distinctions, and political frustrations and fumbling, all the while elucidating the motivation behind the artist\u2019s \u201crecycling aesthetic,\u201d which employs jarring color, combined elite and lowbrow culture, and irony to quietly deploy social criticism.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To open \u201cDis-cursis,\u201d the book\u2019s introduction, Reyes places Gonz\u00e1lez at the Pasaje Rivas in Bogot\u00e1, the flea market that the artist regularly scoured for furniture that she used in her assemblages as supports for her imagery; comprising that imagery were figurative translations of cursi<\/em> (tacky) mass-produced, popular items, from religious and secular chromolithographs, to advertisements, to sensational or patriotic news clippings.2<\/a><\/sup> Immediately Reyes alerts readers to the importance of Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s purposeful titles, wordplays imbued with wit and multilayered meaning engaging a discourse of high\/low and good\/bad taste. She states her thesis outright: \u201cGonz\u00e1lez\u2019s works serve as effective critical tools that interrogate the politics of taste, the boundaries of representation within cultural circuits, and art\u2019s relation to symbolic violence\u201d (5). From the start, Reyes convincingly reads Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s art as one that resists an international aesthetic (i.e., post\u2013World War II abstraction), arguing that through appropriation and \u201ccalculated regionalism\u201d (11) the artist attacked conventions of good taste to spotlight the great divide between the Colombian elite and popular classes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Reyes stages her analysis against the backdrop of Colombian political history; the bloody internecine war of the 1950s known as La Violencia gave way to a return to democratic rule by the National Front coalition government (1958\u201374) under Alberto Lleras Camargo. The era was a \u201ctime of disillusionment\u201d (3) marked by \u201climited democracy, intense modernization programs, and Cold War tensions\u201d (27) that Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s early artistic production responded to. Throughout, Reyes examines reactions to Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s art, especially those of a key supporter, cultural powerhouse Marta Traba (1930\u20131983).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Reyes\u2019s tracking of Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s artistic development and the responses to her work in the critical press begins with the first solo show, Encajeras<\/em> (Lacemakers), presented at the Bogot\u00e1 Museum of Modern Art (MAMBO) in 1964. While the press praised the internationalist style evident in her series of thirteen abstract paintings that referenced at once Johannes Vermeer\u2019s The Lacemaker<\/em> and Colombian Pielroja cigarette pinup calendars (56), Reyes underscores the artist\u2019s subversive approach in \u201cdeveloping a counternarrative to the hegemonic discourses of artistic autonomy and internationalism\u201d (34) as she begins to undermine elite cultural expectations with satire, even while appearing to meet those expectations stylistically through increasing abstraction in this series based in representation. Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s approach to her study of The Lacemaker<\/em> recalls Mexican Alberto Gironella\u2019s earlier initiation of a two-decade-long dissection and reassembly, in a committed neofigurative mode, of canonical works by Francisco Goya, Diego Vel\u00e1zquez, and Jan van Eyck. For example, Gironella in Metamorphosis of a Queen<\/em> of 1958 appropriates Queen Maria Luisa\u2019s portrait from Goya\u2019s The Family of Charles IV<\/em>, abstracting its naturalism while cuttingly morphing her face into a furry owl\u2019s. Reyes briefly acknowledges precedents such as Gironella to Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s old masters appropriations and recontextualizations in this first chapter. She will show that as Gonz\u00e1lez begins to turn to mechanical reproductions as source material, critical response to her engagement with lowbrow culture will reflect deep class divisions and the elite\u2019s perception and fear of the masses as communist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Scholars, following the artist\u2019s lead, have acknowledged The Sisga Suicides<\/em> of 1965 as Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s formal and conceptual breakthrough, marking the beginnings of her turn to poorly reproduced newspaper photographs illustrating violent and tragic stories as source material for her oil-on-canvas paintings and her later enamel painting on found objects.3<\/a><\/sup> In chapter 2, Reyes conducts an extended analysis of The Sisga Suicides<\/em>, which in 1965 won Gonz\u00e1lez a second prize for painting at the Seventeenth National Salon of Colombian Artists; Reyes expands her reading of Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s unmodulated, loud, poster-like portraits beyond Pop appropriation of a sensational, yellow news item (the tragic narrative of a working-class couple\u2019s suicide pact, carried out to preserve the woman\u2019s moral reputation) to a broader contextual discussion of contemporaneous class prejudice, attitudes toward women\u2019s sexuality and reproductive rights, and anxieties around rural-to-urban migration, population growth, and the perceived threat of communism. A comparison yet to be explored is Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s stylistic relationship to that of a contemporary, Cuban painter and graphic artist Ra\u00fal Mart\u00ednez (1927\u20131995).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Taking 1886 as her starting point, Reyes also outlines the history of Colombia\u2019s National Salon, noting that 1965 signified the \u201cpassing of the baton to a new generation and a changed course concerning aesthetic criteria, this time privileging assaults on aesthetic conventions . . . [and signaling a move] away from universal participation toward counterculture impulses that hinted at political engagement\u201d (85). It was in this Seventeenth Salon that Gonz\u00e1lez earned her career-long label of \u201cpainter of cursiler\u00eda<\/em>\u201d (74). Continuing her inquiry into reception, Reyes records the heated debate between Traba and other critics over the acceptability of awarding prizes to artworks, such as Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s The Sisga Suicides<\/em>, that reflect \u201cnew positions\u201d in Colombian art, reject consecrated abstraction, and contest \u201cnotions of refinement and good taste\u201d (109). Appreciated here is the biographical insight Reyes offers as she reveals how early Gonz\u00e1lez-Aranda family lessons in taste informed the artist\u2019s choice of lo cursi<\/em> as a strategy for social criticism.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In chapter 3, provocatively titled \u201c\u2018Cut It Out\u2019: Impropriety at the MAMBO,\u201d Reyes examines Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s short-lived second solo exhibition at MAMBO comprising fourteen oil paintings evincing a faux collage and scrapbook aesthetic. She positions Gonz\u00e1lez\u2014a \u201cpainter of the tacky, the lowbrow, and that which is ours (\u2018lo nuestro<\/em>\u2019)\u201d (29)\u2014against the background of the 1967 student protests at the National University, where the exhibition took place (briefly, before being closed by military crackdown). Gonz\u00e1lez appropriates and recycles the devotional and popular imagery of chromolithographs mass produced in Cali by printer Gr\u00e1ficas Molinari to address neocolonial questions of race, gender expectations, and \u201cthird world\u201d status in her oil painting, a strategy subsequently taken up by some Chicanx and neo-Mexicanista artists.4<\/a><\/sup> Reyes persistently ties Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s artwork to the political, economic, and social context of the time of its initial presentation, while highlighting the artist\u2019s success in \u201ccollapsing categories of the modern and traditional and high and low\u201d (151).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chapter 4, \u201cNotes for an Exclusive History of Colombia,\u201d considers Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s strategic approach to national patrimony in her award-winning diptych Apuntes para la historia extensa I y II<\/em>, submitted to the Nineteenth National Salon of Colombian Artists in 1967. The oval portraits of rival political heroes, Colombia\u2019s founding fathers Sim\u00f3n Bol\u00edvar and Francisco de Paula Santander, painted in a flat, reductive, \u201cunrefined\u201d manner, which Gonz\u00e1lez based on newspaper reproductions of nineteenth-century paintings of the independence leaders, both challenged notions of official culture and questioned the performance of the bipartisan National Front coalition regime (164). Apuntes<\/em> represents Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s first application of commercial enamel to metal plates, a technique that she would later incorporate in her furniture assemblages. Once again Reyes shows the subversive intent behind Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s insistence that reminders of popular culture and \u201clower\u201d class life gain entrance to elite institutions. As the author recounts, the critical reception of Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s heroes ranged from accusations of plagiarism by journalist Arturo Abella to applause from critic Germ\u00e1n Rubiano Caballero, who lauded the artist\u2019s \u201cdeliberately clumsy technique\u201d and \u201cloud and dirty colors\u201d (165), or colores chillones,<\/em> as Gonz\u00e1lez would call her palette (69).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In chapter 5 Reyes arrives at Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s furniture assemblages, or mobilario<\/em>, for which she is famously known, studying the reception of Naturaleza casi muerta<\/em>, the artist\u2019s submission to the Second International Coltejer Biennial in Medell\u00edn in 1970, where she inserted her chromolithograph-inspired painting Our Fallen Lord of Monserrate<\/em> into a faux-wood metal bedframe that she purchased at a local marketplace known as Los M\u00e1rtires. For a competition whose European jury favored geometric abstraction, Gonz\u00e1lez deliberately intended her work to challenge biennial audiences and parody \u201cmodernizing\u201d aesthetic expectations; those jurors dismissed this first of many mobilario<\/em> produced in the 1970s as \u201ca derivative and belated example of U.S. pop art\u201d (181). Defending Gonz\u00e1lez, Traba insisted that the artist\u2019s expression was one of resistance against US cultural imperialism (215). Whereas in their time Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s furniture pieces were transgressive in content, medium, and motivation, by the 1980s such strategies were accepted elsewhere. For example, a Neo-Expressionism emerged in Mexico (neo-Mexicanismo) that freely combined high and low, sacred and profane, and a parodic national iconography, as was evident in the 1987 exhibition El Mueble<\/em> at the Galer\u00eda OMR, Mexico City, for which eight artists paired with local artisans to produce mobilario<\/em>; included were Rocio Maldonado\u2019s Tocador<\/em> (Dresser) and Javier de la Garza\u2019s Biombo<\/em> (Screen).5<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Reyes concludes her close study of Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s early career by alerting readers to a subsequent shift in the artwork, marked by the 1985 tragedy at Bogot\u00e1\u2019s Palacio de Justicia, where hundreds of victims, including Supreme Court justices, were killed in a battle between the military and M-19 guerrillas. From that moment, Gonz\u00e1lez abandoned humor for grief in her approach to social criticism. Reyes explains, \u201cTo date, Gonz\u00e1lez continues to paint images of pain, loss, and suffering inspired by images that she collects from the mass media in her genre of critical history\u201d (222), all in response to Colombia\u2019s culture of violence and human-rights violations that has resulted from the escalating civil war and narco-traffic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now in her early eighties, the working artist has of late been receiving renewed and wider attention. In addition to Reyes\u2019s The Politics of Taste<\/em>, which offers broad contextual analysis within a focused time frame and selection of artworks, Beatriz Gonz\u00e1lez: A Retrospective<\/em>, at the P\u00e9rez Art Museum Miami and Museum of Fine Arts Houston (MFAH), presented the artist\u2019s first career retrospective in the United States. Mari Carmen Ram\u00edrez, the Wortham Curator of Latin American Art and director of the International Center for the Arts of the Americas (ICAA) at MFAH, co-organized the exhibition in tandem with Tobias Ostrander, independent curator and former chief curator of the P\u00e9rez Art Museum Miami. This survey followed on the heels of a 2018 retrospective at the Centre d\u2019arts plastiques contemporains (CAPC) in Bordeaux, France, the \u201cmost extensive monographic exhibition ever organized in Europe about this internationally renowned Colombian artist.\u201d6<\/a><\/sup> Equally impactful in breadth, Beatriz Gonz\u00e1lez: A Retrospective<\/em> comprised more than one hundred artworks produced between 1962 and 2018 in a range of media, installed chronologically at MFAH in the galleries on the upper deck of the Caroline Wiess Law Building. Permeating the viewers\u2019 experience of Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s trajectory was the audio for artist Shaun Gladwell\u2019s slow-motion video BMX Channel<\/em>, projected on a loop in the lower gallery; spilling over the guardrails into the open floor, the driving, electronic-ambient soundtrack with its rhythmic, haunting music seemed fitting as one took in Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s loud, dissonant palette, surprising supports, and art of parody and sorrow.7<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n\n\n\n

An array of fauve color greeted viewers as they looked from the lower-level lobby to the open galleries above. Secured to the railings were nine of Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s revised street signposts, Pictografias particulares<\/em>, of 2014; bearing silhouettes of burden carriers, they alerted viewers to political content addressing Colombians\u2019 precarious existence. Beyond them, Tel\u00f3n de la m\u00f3vil y cambiante naturaleza<\/em> hung from floor to ceiling; at an impressive twenty-three by thirty-nine feet, the artist\u2019s \u201ccurtain,\u201d first seen at the Venice Biennale of 1978, presents a monumental revision of \u00c9douard Manet\u2019s The Luncheon on the Grass<\/em> of 1863. Finally, the introductory wall confronted the viewer with a larger-than-life, black-and-white portrait of the artist from 1965, a commanding presence at twenty-seven years of age. Framed by The Sisga Suicides<\/em> behind her, this photographic record signaled the exhibition\u2019s archival approach, where in nearly every room display cases held a variety of documents\u2014from source material such as newspaper clippings, postcards, and chromolithographs to rare exhibition catalogs, testaments to the artist\u2019s long career. Each of the many galleries revealed Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s radical experimentation through examples of her altered objects, in addition to her paintings, prints, and drawings. Her supports ran the gamut from shower curtains and wallpaper, to examples of her mobilario<\/em>, to a drum, breadbasket, television, coatrack, ceramic candy dish, and more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Accompanying Beatriz Gonz\u00e1lez: A Retrospective<\/em> is a handsome, weighty, beautifully illustrated publication of the same title, with full-page color images of all works in the exhibition. Selected by the New York Times<\/em> as one of the best art books of 2019, the catalog is authored by curators Ostrander and Ram\u00edrez, with contributions by Carolina Ponce de Le\u00f3n, pioneering scholar of Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s work, and historian Gonzalo S\u00e1nchez G., as well as a text by the artist in which she reviews her oeuvre in relation to her major installation Auras an\u00f3nimas<\/em> of 2007\u20139.8<\/a><\/sup> A twenty-nine-page chronology compiled by Jos\u00e9 Ruiz Diaz and Natalia Guti\u00e9rrez offers a year-by-year progression of the artist\u2019s life, with biographical snippets, exhibition history, context from Colombian political and cultural history, and archival images. And there is a scholars\u2019 treasure trove of additional back material: several historical, critical texts about and interviews with the artist published between 1964 and 2005 in Colombian newspapers, journals, and catalogs, reproduced from the ICAA digital archive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ostrander, in his exhibition essay \u201cAn Art of Contradiction,\u201d walks readers through Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s production from the 1960s to the 1980s, focusing, like Reyes, on the artist\u2019s engagement with popular taste. \u201cThe Pigments of Sorrow,\u201d Ramirez\u2019s close analysis of Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s post-1985 production, contends that ultimately \u201cit is the depth and intensity of Beatriz Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s approach to individual and collective grief that perhaps represents her most outstanding contribution to contemporary art.\u201d9<\/a><\/sup> As these recent studies of Gonz\u00e1lez\u2019s life production make clear, her formally and thematically layered artwork continues to provide a springboard from which to consider complex, unequal power relationships: the disparities between genders, the elite and popular classes, and the \u201cfirst\u201d and \u201cthird\u201d worlds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Teresa Eckmann<\/a><\/strong> is associate professor of modern and contemporary Latin American art history at the University of Texas at San Antonio. She is the author of Neo-Mexicanism: Mexican Figurative Painting and Patronage in the 1980s<\/em> (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2010) and curator of Alberto Mijangos, 159: A Retrospective of His Art and Life<\/em> (Centro de Artes, Department of Arts and Culture, City of San Antonio, Texas, 2018\u201319).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Editor’s Note<\/em>: Ana Mar\u00eda Reyes began her term as a member of the Art Journal<\/em> Editorial Board after the commissioning of this review. She was not involved in its editorial process.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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<\/div>
  1. Ana Mar\u00eda Reyes, \u201c5 Questions with Ana Mar\u00eda Reyes,\u201d<\/a> Challenging the Global: C-Map Experts Respond to 5 Questions, Post: Notes on Modern and Contemporary Art around the Globe<\/em>, April 20, 2017. ↩<\/a><\/span><\/li>
  2. Reyes expands the definition of cursi<\/em> beyond \u201cbad aesthetic taste\u201d (24) to mean \u201ca word saturated not only with class condescension but also with anxiety about a threat emanating from the popular classes, revolutionary fervor, and social changes engendered by modernity\u201d (26). ↩<\/a><\/span><\/li>
  3. See, for example, Tobias Ostrander, \u201cThe Art of Contradiction,\u201d in Beatriz Gonz\u00e1lez: A Retrospective, 16\u201317; Hans Ulrich Obrist, \u201cBeatriz Gonz\u00e1lez,\u201d in Conversations in Colombia<\/em>, ed. Karen Marta (Bogot\u00e1, Colombia: La Oficina del Doctor, 2015), 26\u201330; and Gina McDaniel Tarver, \u201cArt for a New Reality,\u201d in The New Iconoclasts: From Art of a New Reality to Conceptual Art in Colombia, 1961\u20131975 (Bogot\u00e1, Colombia: Universidad de los Andes, 2016), 44\u201351. ↩<\/a><\/span><\/li>
  4. See, for example, Tere Romo, \u201cThe Chicanization of Mexican Calendar Art,\u201d<\/a> Smithsonian Center for Latino Initiative; and Teresa Eckmann, \u201cJavier de la Garza and Alejandro Arango: Reevaluating Signs of Identity,\u201d in Neo-Mexicanism: Mexican Figurative Painting and Patronage in the 1980s<\/em> (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2010), 169\u201390. ↩<\/a><\/span><\/li>
  5. See \u201cEl Mueble 8 Artistas,\u201d a trifold published by the Galer\u00eda OMR (Mexico City) for the exhibition of the same title opening November 24, 1987, featuring artwork by Gilberto Aceves Navarro, Alejandro Arango, Aristides Coen, Javier de la Garza, Roc\u00edo Maldonado, Georgina Quintana, and Pablo Rulfo. ↩<\/a><\/span><\/li>
  6. Vincent Berjot, in Beatriz Gonz\u00e1lez: 1965\u20132017<\/em> (Bordeaux, France: CAPC mus\u00e9e d\u2019art contemporain de Bordeaux; Madrid: Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sof\u00eda; Berlin: KW Institute for Contemporary Art, 2017), 202. ↩<\/a><\/span><\/li>
  7. The soundtrack is by Kazumichi Grime; the artwork is dated 2013. ↩<\/a><\/span><\/li>
  8. See Holland Cotter, Roberta Smith, Jason Farago, and Martha Schwendener, \u201cBest Art Books of 2019,\u201d<\/a> New York Times<\/em>, December 5, 2019. ↩<\/a><\/span><\/li>
  9. Mari Carmen Ram\u00edrez, introductory wall text to the exhibition Beatriz Gonz\u00e1lez: A Retrospective<\/em> at MFAH. ↩<\/a><\/span><\/li><\/ol><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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