Paulo Nazareth
07 Jul - 08 Aug 2015
PAULO NAZARETH
Genocide in Americas
7 July - 8 August 2015
Confrontation and transgression are important elements for many contemporary artists who, by basing their work on this conflict, end up bringing to it a belligerent static connotation. This happens in ways that are abrupt at times, and imposing at others, carrying an infinite range of premises for them to affirm themselves in the world. As such, creation takes shape according to aesthetic as well as moral questions, germinating an identity enclosed in its own narrative and thus depriving us of the wonders of contact with the range of artistic thought.
These are the binds, which Paulo Nazareth, in his inside-out logic, breaks from his interpretation of stories he comes across along his path. He objectifies a social connection through which he subtly reorganizes the time of things by contemplation. This, perhaps the most important element in his creation, is what actually forms the cognitive meaning that elevates him above the dissonance and affirms himself on a spiritual platform capable of giving birth to his ideas. Nazareth's connections are based in a realm of mutual transparency, where a kind of radar that captures our indifference, points us toward what we have forgotten along the way.
In the exhibition “Genocide in Americas,” Paulo Nazareth sails across one of those rivers upon which we calmly lay forgetting about time and human tragedy. In his own way, he lucidly condenses action and thought, narratively outlining the various models of genocide that have disgraced the history of the Americas. Day after day, they consolidate themselves in paradoxical outlines. From the brutal extermination that came from colonization, to the enslavement of black Africans who forcibly taken to this new continent were robbed not only of their familial and spiritual ties, but also of their basic humanity. These are themes of which Nazareth subtly reminds us along this tainted timeline.
His video works enable our senses to perceive the solitude and excruciating violence of modern cities in a kind of protest that reverberates in the silence but echoes in our souls. His objects are ordinarily organized on white paper, which emanates lightness so we can see the richness of what initially strikes as shabby. They make us reflect on the logic of the appropriation of capital, on an identity and culture that don't belong to us. A simple empty plastic bag takes on new significance in the noble symbolism of the artist who seeks to reclaim the status of what was profaned for being formatted for the commercialization of a sacred symbolism. The crafting of these objects, in the hands of the artist, denote an agonizing and true study whose objective is to find the most fitting reparation of damages.
Nazareth also guides us across the spectrum of these inheritances through his own clear investigation. He spans alarmingly inhumane statistics of the murders of black, mixed race and indigenous people that have become routine in many countries in the Americas, and Brazil especially. Thus, we focus on this country where police violence (the same as the “Capitães-do-mato”1) is sanctioned by an elite who gives carte blanche for the annihilation of marginalized peoples. In an unique informative process, the artist often comically portrays the paths of a culture that leads to caricature.
Like a declaration of the purity of his spirit, Nazareth strives for the transmutation of dense energies, providing them with a lyrical quality. This is perhaps reflected by his nomination as high priest, responsible for transmitting the oral culture of the Guarani-Kaiowa People The indigenous people who were in Venice in 2013 representing the artist in his installation, were in no way, simple ornaments – or elements of performance – as they were constantly described. First and foremost, Valdomiro Flores and Genito Gomes are human beings who went there to recount their history to passersby. A very respectful and genuine exchange, for Valdomiro – who is a spiritual, religious and philosophical leader – knew that by leaving his land, sanctified by his ancestors, he would be open to constructing a new perspective of the world. Nazareth makes us understand that both sides deserve respect. This wisdom, typical of those who recognize ancestry as a fundamental base for ethnic’s survival, is explored in the dialogue.
The exhibition Genocide in Americas intends to produce parallel sensations to what happened in Venice, but in a way that viewers make contact with new perspectives. In order for them to be understood, it is necessary to approach the contemplative dimension in which Paulo has reconstituted his oral and visual tradition. In this reconstitution we identify with the features and tranquility loaded with the silence and signs of a mother in her fruitless search for meaning in the loss of her child, abducted by the Guatemalan army. In this report there is a lamentation, which, if it does not paralyze us, impels us to take a position and, at this point, find the key to a passage that was never hidden. By granting us access to his research, he kindly guides us toward an essence that is analogous to his ancestors and takes us to another level.
Paulo Nazareth is first and foremost an intellectual who demystifies the methods of European acculturation that has edited his culture and the education of his peers. The abstract networks by which he softly advances with bare feet, provide the foundation for the bases of his academic thought. A dense penetration of the realms of his exhibition allows us to go a bit further in our own failings. Whether through the knowledge of history, or the identification with a struggle that is, above all, human in the broadest sense that this term could possibly embody.
1 Capitão-do-mato: literally “captain of the forest,” a term used in colonial Brazil for the leaders of special militias. They were recruited from among the slaves and/or village inhabitants familiar with the trails of the forest. Their mission was to capture runaway slaves or suppress indigenous uprisings, provoked by the arrival of white colonists occupying the villages. They were usually black or of mixed race, but lost touch with their racial identity from spending so much time with the slave owners, even seeing themselves as white (unlike their peers) and part of the ruling class.
Genocide in Americas
7 July - 8 August 2015
Confrontation and transgression are important elements for many contemporary artists who, by basing their work on this conflict, end up bringing to it a belligerent static connotation. This happens in ways that are abrupt at times, and imposing at others, carrying an infinite range of premises for them to affirm themselves in the world. As such, creation takes shape according to aesthetic as well as moral questions, germinating an identity enclosed in its own narrative and thus depriving us of the wonders of contact with the range of artistic thought.
These are the binds, which Paulo Nazareth, in his inside-out logic, breaks from his interpretation of stories he comes across along his path. He objectifies a social connection through which he subtly reorganizes the time of things by contemplation. This, perhaps the most important element in his creation, is what actually forms the cognitive meaning that elevates him above the dissonance and affirms himself on a spiritual platform capable of giving birth to his ideas. Nazareth's connections are based in a realm of mutual transparency, where a kind of radar that captures our indifference, points us toward what we have forgotten along the way.
In the exhibition “Genocide in Americas,” Paulo Nazareth sails across one of those rivers upon which we calmly lay forgetting about time and human tragedy. In his own way, he lucidly condenses action and thought, narratively outlining the various models of genocide that have disgraced the history of the Americas. Day after day, they consolidate themselves in paradoxical outlines. From the brutal extermination that came from colonization, to the enslavement of black Africans who forcibly taken to this new continent were robbed not only of their familial and spiritual ties, but also of their basic humanity. These are themes of which Nazareth subtly reminds us along this tainted timeline.
His video works enable our senses to perceive the solitude and excruciating violence of modern cities in a kind of protest that reverberates in the silence but echoes in our souls. His objects are ordinarily organized on white paper, which emanates lightness so we can see the richness of what initially strikes as shabby. They make us reflect on the logic of the appropriation of capital, on an identity and culture that don't belong to us. A simple empty plastic bag takes on new significance in the noble symbolism of the artist who seeks to reclaim the status of what was profaned for being formatted for the commercialization of a sacred symbolism. The crafting of these objects, in the hands of the artist, denote an agonizing and true study whose objective is to find the most fitting reparation of damages.
Nazareth also guides us across the spectrum of these inheritances through his own clear investigation. He spans alarmingly inhumane statistics of the murders of black, mixed race and indigenous people that have become routine in many countries in the Americas, and Brazil especially. Thus, we focus on this country where police violence (the same as the “Capitães-do-mato”1) is sanctioned by an elite who gives carte blanche for the annihilation of marginalized peoples. In an unique informative process, the artist often comically portrays the paths of a culture that leads to caricature.
Like a declaration of the purity of his spirit, Nazareth strives for the transmutation of dense energies, providing them with a lyrical quality. This is perhaps reflected by his nomination as high priest, responsible for transmitting the oral culture of the Guarani-Kaiowa People The indigenous people who were in Venice in 2013 representing the artist in his installation, were in no way, simple ornaments – or elements of performance – as they were constantly described. First and foremost, Valdomiro Flores and Genito Gomes are human beings who went there to recount their history to passersby. A very respectful and genuine exchange, for Valdomiro – who is a spiritual, religious and philosophical leader – knew that by leaving his land, sanctified by his ancestors, he would be open to constructing a new perspective of the world. Nazareth makes us understand that both sides deserve respect. This wisdom, typical of those who recognize ancestry as a fundamental base for ethnic’s survival, is explored in the dialogue.
The exhibition Genocide in Americas intends to produce parallel sensations to what happened in Venice, but in a way that viewers make contact with new perspectives. In order for them to be understood, it is necessary to approach the contemplative dimension in which Paulo has reconstituted his oral and visual tradition. In this reconstitution we identify with the features and tranquility loaded with the silence and signs of a mother in her fruitless search for meaning in the loss of her child, abducted by the Guatemalan army. In this report there is a lamentation, which, if it does not paralyze us, impels us to take a position and, at this point, find the key to a passage that was never hidden. By granting us access to his research, he kindly guides us toward an essence that is analogous to his ancestors and takes us to another level.
Paulo Nazareth is first and foremost an intellectual who demystifies the methods of European acculturation that has edited his culture and the education of his peers. The abstract networks by which he softly advances with bare feet, provide the foundation for the bases of his academic thought. A dense penetration of the realms of his exhibition allows us to go a bit further in our own failings. Whether through the knowledge of history, or the identification with a struggle that is, above all, human in the broadest sense that this term could possibly embody.
1 Capitão-do-mato: literally “captain of the forest,” a term used in colonial Brazil for the leaders of special militias. They were recruited from among the slaves and/or village inhabitants familiar with the trails of the forest. Their mission was to capture runaway slaves or suppress indigenous uprisings, provoked by the arrival of white colonists occupying the villages. They were usually black or of mixed race, but lost touch with their racial identity from spending so much time with the slave owners, even seeing themselves as white (unlike their peers) and part of the ruling class.