Scattered across the cracked desert floor, the heavy flashlights cast long, bright shadows that contrast with the warm blues of the settling dusk. They are a man-made imposition on the arid turf, a calculated alteration to a landscape that time forgot. In "Luciérnagas" (Fireflies), Mexican photographer Alfredo de Stefano returns to his favorite setting--the desert--to address the interplay of the natural and the built environment, transforming these utilitarian objects into ethereal beams that seem to move and dart like lightning bugs on a dark night. The result is startlingly beautiful.
De Stefano's photograph is part of "superreal: alternative realities in photography and video," the current exhibit at El Museo del Barrio, which features works that "challenge the notion of the camera's lens as presenting visual accuracy." Many of the 70 works in the show, which were largely culled from the museum's permanent collection, intentionally distort our perception of reality by employing surreal elements or odd perspectives. But others demonstrate an acute awareness of the dubious proposition that photography can serve as a direct translation of the world around us. Through ironic juxtaposition, surreal touches and the subversion of stereotypes about race, gender and class, these works actively remind us that what we see in a photograph or film is the artist's mediated construction of our lived experience.
The exhibit includes works that date from the 1960s to the present, in a variety of mediums including painting, photography, collage and video. Younger artists are presented alongside more established names such as Andres Serrano, Miguel Rio Branco and Tania Bruguera. Despite the remarkable range and size of the show, a strong curatorial hand and the spare presentation of the works prevent the exhibit from feeling cluttered or losing its narrative focus. Organized by Margarita Aguilar, who recently stepped down from her post as director, it is El Museo's first major photography show in years.
It follows, then, that the photos are particularly strong. One untitled 1979 portrait by Sophie Rivera--part of a series in which she stood outside her apartment building and asked passersby to sit for portraits in her home studio--addresses the conventions of the studio portrait while making a defiant statement about ethnic identity and stereotyping. We see a young man dressed in a silk shirt, unbuttoned to reveal a silver cross hanging from his neck. His hands are clasped nervously and his eager, open expression as he gazes into the camera suggests his vulnerability as a subject--his lack of control over how he is portrayed. While Rivera created this series of monumental portraits to depict the "real" Nuyorican community and negate the discriminatory depictions of Puerto Ricans found in popular media, she is ultimately the one who frames the narrative and decides who serves as a representative figure. Always, it is the photographer who dictates what we see.
The exhibit also includes many conceptual works, in which the hand of the artist is more readily apparent. In "Soap Opera," Costa Rican photographer Priscilla Monge captures fluffy clouds of soap as they spiral down a black and white staircase, collecting in pools on the linoleum floor. The continuous flood of soapy water seems to suggest the futility of the unseen cleaner's efforts. Taken together, the sly titular reference to the telenovela and the familiar trope of cleaning as "women's work" allude to the enduring clichés of woman as both domestic goddess and overdramatic hysteric.
Of the videos, one that I found particularly compelling was "Abstracción Azul," by Guatemalan artist Naufus Ramirez-Figueroa. In the film, a young man stands knee-deep amid dried reeds on the side of a highway, unmoving as the wind gusts around him. After thirty seconds, another figure appears and begins to paint the body of the young man in a shade of neon blue, slowly covering his entire body in thick, oozing paint. Ramirez-Figueroa made the work--a tribute to his late Uncle Xito--as a powerful demonstration of how those we lose remain physically present, but not as ghostly, fleeting specters. When we accidentally set an extra place at the table or catch a glimpse of a familiar face in the crowd, we are reminded of how these individuals stay with us, as visions that never quite disappear. This otherworldly representation of loss and haunting underscores how sometimes only the surreal can truly communicate the particular, peculiar way that we experience reality.
The exhibit will be on display through May 19.
For more information visit the museum's official website by clicking here.