Érase (Once upon)
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The tales we’ve been told have a beginning and an end which can be more or less open, but an end at the end. One of the purposes is to teach through morals, metaphors and symbolisms, the “must-be.”
Duty that impacts the life of the attentive reader or the listener who keeps the eyes wide open. Afterward, the story circulates as the fluids of a painful injection of moral, supplied forcefully as punishment, frightened by evil, always disguised under different costumes, depending on the tale. You have to know how to see and there is a responsibility to respond as either children or grown-ups. Good and evil are there for us to tell the difference. These stories — sometimes naïve, others very bloody or even sadistic — stimulate aspirations, potentiate the belief in impossible miracles and, of course, generate frustrations in view of the need for happy endings that don’t usually happen in real life. Behind the moral and educating function, the most complex human situations get exposed and explained through methods of prevailing fantasy and in simple terms. That’s what we understand today, between the lines, about and through the tales that reached us.
Richard Lanham stated: “We perceive the world actively and re-creatively; not just registering what is ‘already there’. Perceiving the world means also to compose it, to give a meaning to things.”
Tales aren’t fixed literary forms — their origins lie in oral language, not in its persistent form that’s written — so they’ve always been subjected to modifications depending on the interlocutor. Its pure forms have always been difficult to access, they’ve always been among social, cultural and regional fluctuations that keep us away from the first link of this chain of interwoven characters and stories.
The tale is the perfect instigator and instigation responds to the purpose of the one who gives out the message. The plot isn’t essential, it’s the purpose of telling it that really is. In effect, it’s the search for effect.
This is where these artists try to act from opposed perspectives, but following a similar method. Their mode consists in editing the iconic and constructing metalanguages. The tool is collage.
Salvatierra revises the symbolic and reconstructs fiction with pieces of actuality, locating it in the present, while Schliebener’s art shakes the plots and throws them again into the fray — the narrative itself doesn’t matter. For the first artist, the photographic collage is so perfect that it reveals the childishness, in dreamy tones, associated with the falsehood of perfection, and therefore questions how personality gets conditioned when the tales are settled in the unconscious. The second artist seems to show the result of a catharsis in a pictorial or intuitive manner — the paper collage comes up as the destruction of the mandate.
Once upon the beginning of time, or once upon the way it had to be. Once upon a time.
Catalina Schliebener and Jimena Salvatierra
From September 9th through October 22nd
Tuesday – Saturday, 3 – 8 PM