Villagers release a lantern at a ceremony marking the Hungry Ghost festival in Hongling village, Hainan province, China. Small fires are lit underneath to raise the 40 metre paper lantern from the ground.
(Tate Modern / TEOR/ética: A Chronicle of Interventions, Regina José Galindo among others)
Harking back to 1980s New York, the exhibition begins with an archival display of the seminal installation by Group Material, entitled Timeline: A Chronicle of US Intervention in Central and Latin America, the work was originally installed in New York’s PS1 Gallery in 1984, when Central America was in the spotlight of political and economic debate in the West.
Fast forward thirty years and the exhibition returns to this history of intervention and its consequences, through the work of contemporary artists who chronicle related historical episodes, accounts and phenomena.
Two of the films found in this display refer back to U.S. colonialism in Panama and more specifically to the building of the Panama Canal. Humberto Vélez focuses on the metaphor of the subjected human body and the representation of power and strength over a nation, while Michael Stevenson considers the complex relationship sustained between the USA and Panama after the signing of the Torrijos-Carter Treaties in 1977 – which promised the handover of the Canal Zone to the Central American country.
The works of Óscar Figueroa and Andreas Siekmann separately address the existence of a mono-cultural economy based almost exclusively on the extraction of bananas and coffee and the impact that international corporations such as the United Fruit Company have had on the natural and social landscape of much of this region.
The performance work of Regina José Galindo confronts the torrid history of Guatemala and its hidden genocides. Her explorations of unequal power relations often expose the violent consequences that regularly result from political interventions.
This exhibition also explores the effects that external intervention can have on cultural and social trends. This includes examples of both the infiltration and appropriation of contemporary Western culture in remote indigenous communities, as seen in the work of José Castrellón and the imposition or adaptation of international architectural styles, which are boldly displayed and eventually destroyed during the performance work of Naufus Ramírez-Figueroa.
A Chronicle of Interventions is part of the exhibition programme at Project Space, Tate Modern, London.
Artists: José Castrellón, Óscar Figueroa, Group Material, Regina José Galindo, Naufus Ramírez-Figueroa, Andreas Seikmann, Michael Stevenson, Humberto Vélez.
Curators: Inti Guerrero (TEOR/éTica) and Shoair Mavlian (Tate Modern)
A Chronicle of Interventions explores the multiple histories of intervention that have occurred throughout Central America during the 20th century and displays the work of eight practicing artists who each explore various foreign, economic, political and military interventions which have shaped the region.
Screw drivers, wrench, trolley coin, ruler & cutting edge, all combined in this tiny hair clip.
A multi functional hair clip that doubles as a toolbox on the go!
Made of Stainless steel.
A stripey serpent writhes up from the middle of Hyde Park, flicking its tongue towards fleeing crowds, as an exotic bird gobbles up a small child in London Zoo, poking its sharp beak through the cage. A hot-air balloon floats over Kennington, and a plane loops-the-loop above Kilburn, while the rest of the city busies itself below with an air of medieval festivity.
As Europe was about to tear itself to shreds in 1914, this is how the London Underground chose to depict the city, with lavish “Wonderground” maps hung in every station. Packed with little jokes and mischievous details, it was a clear bid to cheer up commuters and distract them from the over-crowded, filthy carriages into which they were about to be squeezed.
Often credited as the map that saved the Underground – doing wonders for the public image of a service on its knees – the fantastical scene was drawn by MacDonald “Max” Gill, younger brother of the master sculptor and chisel-wielding paraphiliac Eric Gill. While the elder Gill’s prolific output, and rapacious sexual appetite (which saw him conquer not only his daughters but the family dog), cemented his place in history, Max has been largely forgotten, consigned to his role as the uncontroversial map-making sibling.
Friends! The brief for our Mabon zine is up and ready. As we’re planning to release this one in time for Yuck ‘n Yum zine fair in Dundee, the submission deadline is the 5th of September. We’re full of ideas for this issue, and we’re excited to see yours. <3
Relevant for today, for today I am planting potatoes. I hate clay based soil.
"In Greek mythology, the Labyrinth (Greek λαβύρινθος labyrinthos) was an elaborate structure designed and built by the legendary artificer Daedalus for King Minos of Crete at the palace Knossos.
Its function was to hold Minos’s son, Minotaur, a mythical creature that was half man and half bull.
Daedalus had so cunningly made the Labyrinth that he could barely escape it after he built it.
Every nine years, Minos made King Aegeus pick seven young boys and seven young girls to be sent to Daedalus's creation, the Labyrinth, to be eaten by the Minotaur.
After his death, Minos became a judge of the dead in the underworld. The Minoan civilization of Crete has been named after him by the archaeologist Arthur Evans.
In colloquial English, labyrinth is generally synonymous with maze, but many contemporary scholars observe a distinction between the two: maze refers to a complex branching (multicursal) puzzle with choices of path and direction; while a single-path (unicursal) labyrinth has only a single, non-branching path, which leads to the center. A labyrinth in this sense has an unambiguous route to the center and back and is not designed to be difficult to navigate.”