The Geometry of Hope

Torres-Garcia’s compositional work -- slate-toned, symbol-filled and neatly Sumerian -- reflects a classical nostalgia that integrates iconography from pre-Colombian through modern times. More notable than the work itself may what be what it represents: the desire of Torres-Garcia to weave together history, politics, philosophy, nationalism and art. This impulse to synthesize reverberates throughout Geometry, with echoes in the work of nearly all the Latin American artists presented. But beware: even as the show suggests artistic continuity throughout the continent, it never suggests sameness.

For example, as Geometry moves from 1930’s Uruguay to 1940’s Argentina, one can detect an angrier, more unabashed abstraction technique; whereas Montevidean Torres-Garcia romances the past, the artists from Buenos Aires -- most of them in their late teens and early twenties -- smash it. Their palpable iconoclasty reveals itself in “misshapen” canvases, a response to the squeezing of scenes into a square frames that had been all but mandatory since the Renaissance period, and which represented, to these young painters, all things picturesque (and therefore illusory).

With the war on, the link to Europe had been further damaged, so, in a sense, the Argentinians had fun with mom and dad away: the kids went Communist, threw around some primary-colored squares and triangles, and left their compositions -- like true Lenin-loving hipsters -- unsigned. This period only lasted around two years, and the resulting work, while not the most flavorful of the exhibit, still effervesces because young people who believed they could change the world drew up its rules. But we’re not sorry to leave them by the time we hit 1950’s Brazil. The country and the period leaves the deepest impression on the museum meanderer by far.

Sao Paolo's painters and designers greet us with a tudo bem of optical illusion, picking up on the Argentinian rumblings of illusion versus reality. Their painted lines and simple shapes return our gaze and ask: are we moving, or are we still? Are we connected, or are we separate? The catchphrase associated with such questions and such paintings is “...an exploration of perceptual psychology.” But leave it to the bootie shakers from Rio to steam the whole joint up, move away from the canvas, and get into the psychology of the body. Their lines are softer, and they don’t call their pieces Square No. 9, or some such thing. Instead, they give them more organic names like Cocoon or The Book of Creation. The Creation piece, a favorite of curator Perez-Barreiro, sits like a bright, poetic origami timeline. Made of cardboard and gouache, it illustrates world history (dating from creation) using only geometry and color; each piece represents a particular epoch or human advance. A loss to the viewer is that, since the objects are under glass, their corporeal quality is diminished (as you can’t assemble and disassemble them as artist Lygia Pape originally intended). Brazil also offers us another Lygia -- Lygia Clark -- whose small metal sculptures reminded us of Frank Gehry’s curvaceous architecture. We also enjoyed a piece by Helio Oiticica, whose portrait of broad, disjointed lines looked like dancing rice noodles. Hard to explain, but they made us laugh and feel hungry at the same time.

Also hard to explain is why Geometry shifts at this point from Brazil to Paris, France. Actually, it’s not that hard. By the late 60s and 70s, Paris had become a mecca for Latin Americans artists; isolated at home, they went abroad to meet one another and exchange ideas. Because such numbers of them worked on both sides of the Atlantic, the Paris and (final) Caracas, Venezuela portion of the exhibit intertwine. Rather than try to distinguish who was working where and when, let’s just say the large, crenulated panels of artist Jesus Rafael Soto drew us in. The shapely black wires suspended in the foreground made us fall into some sort of curlicue abyss. Carlos Cruz-Diez also gave us more of the optical illusion ka-pow we were looking for, this time playing with the construct of color in his work Additive Yellow.

These last pieces of the show, as sophisticated as the first (and the ones in the ample middle ) make for a great day spent in the time machine of art. And when it ultimately drops you back into 2007, well, console yourself with the the thought that it’s not a bad year to be hauling the geometry of hope into.

Additional Photo Credits
Hélio Oiticica
Untitled, from the series Grupo Frente [Frente Group], 1955
Gouache on paper
40 x 40 cm (15 3/4 x 15 3/4 in.)
Colección Patricia Phelps de Cisneros
2001.92
Copyright Projeto Hélio Oiticica

Alejandro Otero
Estudio 2 [Study 2], 1952
Gouache on paper
19.5 x 25 cm (7 11/16 x 9 13/16 in.)
Colección Patricia Phelps de Cisneros
1990.95>