Hallucination by the sea-shore (Fernando Cocchiarale)
Hallucination by the sea-shore is the oldest of the works by Marcos Chaves featured in this exhibition. The title of this 1994 piece nevertheless seems up-to-date and apt for this event at the Gallery of Casa de Cultura Laura Alvim, located at one of our city’s picturesque landmarks, Ipanema Beach. Its privileged geographic location suggested to us the curatorial approach for this show, which presents a cross-section of Chaves’ production based on the artist’s works that explicitly or indirectly refer to Rio de Janeiro.
Hallucination by the sea-shore consists of an assemblage of two objects acquired by the artist on the same day without any previous aim to join them: an old edition of the only book published by poet Augusto dos Anjos (1884–1912, from the state of Paraíba), Eu e outras poesias, together with a bibelot in terracotta of a nude boy seated on a dark base, holding an open book on his crossed legs. He is, however, lacking his right foot and head, which were broken off before Marcos acquired the piece in a secondhand store in the district of Santa Teresa.
That the artist opened the book and placed the statuette on its middle seam, holding it open at the pages of the poems “Alucinação à beira-mar” and “Vandalismo”, determines that the meaning of this work can only be grasped in the intercrossing between the legible (the titles of the poems) and the visible (the broken bibelot, without foot or head).
This investigation of the semantic possibilities that arise in the intersection of the words and the objects/images that inhabit our daily life and Chaves’ image repertoire is not, however, a characteristic limited to this work. It pervades his entire oeuvre.
Arising in the appropriation of images and everyday objects found by the artist, his work takes an alternative course to that of formal invention and strictly manual artistic production, which are characteristic to the conventional languages of art that survived modernism (painting, sculpture, drawing and printmaking). It thus belongs to a foundational genealogy of contemporariness that can be mapped beginning with the rise of collage and assemblage, within the cubist and surrealist, as well as Dadaist trends, which began to incorporate fragments of real objects to the fictional rectangle of the canvas. Proposals like that of the ready-made (Marcel Duchamp) and the surrealist objet trouvé incorporated the practice of appropriation as a method of creation and visual invention.
In Marcos’ case, the procedure of collecting and combining objects is fundamental. Made based on previous ideas or fortuitously generated by things found in the streets or secondhand shops, this procedure of collecting is essential to the artist’s poetics. But this appropriation of objects is only one facet of the artist’s method. The ambulatory delirium, as defined by Hélio Oiticica, is a fundamental part of Marcos’ visual experience. He takes long walks through Rio de Janeiro, with a gaze always alert to unexpected situations, that he almost always records in photographs and videos.
In an interview given to Ivan Cardoso for the film HO (1979), Hélio Oiticica speaks of his relationship with the street. “I discovered the following: the relationship with the street that I make is something I summarize in the idea of the ambulatory delirium… Actually, my return to Brazil was a kind of mystical encounter with the streets of Rio, a mystical encounter already demystified. Previously, in the 1960s came the construction of the mystification of the street, the mystification of dance, of Mangueira; now it’s a process of demythification, together with mystification, two things that come together with each other: so I take pieces of the asphalt from Avenida Presidente Vargas – before they closed the hole made for the subway, all of the pieces of asphalt had been pulled up… All the pieces of Rio de Janeiro have a concrete and living meaning for me, this thing that I call concrete delirium. … There is thus something that essentially involves the absorption of these things; the beach, the sea also has this” (pp. 32 and 33 of the book A pintura depois do quadro, edited by Luciano Figueiredo and published by Silvia Roesler Edições de Arte).
The ambulatory delirium can therefore be taken as a method or guideline of visual production. It consists in walking through the cityscape and collecting objects, remnants and images the wanderer comes across by chance, with the aim of fueling ideas and generating new artworks based on the material collected.
In the ambulatory delirium, the artist resorts to the landscape no longer as a regulator of his pictorial production, but rather as a source from which he gathers the poetic elements for his work, editing them.
Therefore, the artist does not restrict his action to the ambulatory delirium and the appropriation of tools and images. His work method supposes a following step: that of articulating the material collected, even though, in certain cases, it may have been determined by the unexpected encounter of one or more objects, as occurred in the case of Chaves’ Hallucination by the sea-shore.
The connection of the components in Marcos’ artworks takes place, above all, through an ironic interplay between the word (present in the works themselves or assimilated to their titles) and the objects and images he finds. Chaves thus invented a syntax which – although it does not possess rules, since its meaning is specified in each artwork – provides the meaning for the overall set of his production.
In this sense, the recurring allusion to Rio de Janeiro in his production – the focus of the present show – does not evince a thematic preference, but is rather the consequence of his work method. The ambulatory delirium takes place in the street and thus leads to encounters and surprise. It is therefore natural that the city the artist lives in and walks through often plays a prominent role in his works.
Not all of the artworks in the show involve landscapes and emblematic scenes of a city whose dazzling beauty is so often portrayed from a few vantage points – including scenes of Sugarloaf Mountain, which has informally acquired the status of Rio de Janeiro’s official image.
This emblematic scene does, however, take part in three artworks in the show. The first is a video from 1997, Eu só vendo a vista, in which Sugarloaf Mountain, shot from the Dona Marta Belvedere, imposes its stony immobility on the dynamics of the streets of Rio, practically invisible in light of the monumental scale of the recorded scene. The other two are more recent works, consisting of photographs made between 2008 and 2010.
Desculpe o transtorno presents us with a situation in which a scaffold being set up on Botafogo Beach was photographed with Sugarloaf Mountain in the background, suggesting that the mountain itself is undergoing restoration. For its part, Rio olímpico shows the image of improvised public gymnastic and weightlifting equipment, in terrible condition, with the emblematic mountain once again in the background. If we consider these artworks from a point of view similar to Hélio Oiticica’s, in regard to the dynamics of the ambulatory experience, we can take the 1997 video as a work of mythification of the city’s greatest icon, while the photos that suggest the precariousness of the mountain under repair, or show the poorness of the equipment meant for physical exercise, installed in front of it, act as its demystifying counterpoint.
Besides these artworks, two others also concern icons of Rio de Janeiro’s nature. These are Just to balance (in which the profile of Pedra da Gávea serves as a base for a Buddha, also seen in profile; the mountain and image are connected by a morphologic resemblance, creating a religious alternative to the Catholic tenor of Rio’s other famous icon, the Christ the Redeemer statue) and Bis, an ironic reference to the traditional applause for the sunset at Ipanema Beach, without an encore.
In works such as the video Cópia / Colares (Rio) and the photo Rio 40º, the city can be clearly recognized thanks to the titles. Without these, however, its identity could not be readily established. While in the former the name “Rio” appears written along the side of the last bus recorded in the long take composing the film (the city is also alluded to in the homage to Raymundo Colares, who during the 1960s produced the series Ônibus), in the latter, the graphic similarity that the asphalt deformed by Rio de Janeiro’s heat bears to the city’s topography is clear within the exhibition’s overall context.
Rio de Janeiro, however, is not reduced to its most obvious iconic face. It is, above all, the locus of affective and socio-urban experiences that do not possess the glamour of its most widely publicized face. The sequence of photos Conserto para banheiro is one of these works. The repair of the bathroom in a friend’s house left a patch of cement next to the sink that clearly evokes Marcel Duchamp’s celebrated Self-portrait in profile made in 1958. Chaves wrote the phrase “Rose Sélavy” near this patch, and then photographed it in a zoom sequence.
Hallucination by the sea-shore celebrates the delirium of Marcos Chaves’ gaze and words. Without Rio de Janeiro, the content and direction of his work could not have been the same.