Buenos Aires Herald Sunday, May 5, 2002
By Alina
Tortosa
For the
Herald
If ever an
artist exemplified The dematerialization of art, proclaimed by Lucy
Lippard in the book that answers to this title, first published in 1973, that
artists is Jorge Macchi. From extremely
concrete objects and paintings to the current show at Ruth Benzacar, his work
has dematerialized in substance and perceptually into poetical renderings of
musical and socio-anthropological interpretations.
I would say
without doubt, Macchi is the Argentine contemporary artist par excellence, an
artist at his best. He has worked
quietly and coherently from his beginnings, looking into things and around, to
create objects and situations that may relate to hypothetical situations, as
yet unknown to him, as in the early paintings of the domes of cathedrals, or
that subtly hint at what he has seen and experienced. He still seems unaffected by the respect and
recognition he merits, under a deceptive simplicity that could pass for
modesty. I would not trespass this
simplicity, in the notion that he does not really know the import of what he
has done. He does.
Fuegos
de artificio, the
name of the show, may be interpreted quite differently according to whether we
translate it as “fire tricks” or as “fireworks”. Fire tricks
-trick as ability, special skill, even as an act of magic- answers
Macchi’s interpretation of the title. It
implies the creative resources that allow the artist to discuss a given subject
in such a manner as to mask or play around with the original preoccupation or
information, moving away from literal meanings into irony and/or poetical
nuances. It is a dematerialization
–again- of literal meaning into sensitive perceptions that redefine a practical
situation into a subtle rendering of it that the viewer may or may not
grasp. But even when he or she do not
grasp it, the work is there in aesthetic splendour to intrigue, delight, or
reject. Fire works, of course, is the
explosive instance in which a design is blown out into the air as a sort of
celebration, to then disappear into a memory or into forgetfulness. So it would be safe, perhaps, to keep to the
first meaning.
Intimidad (Intimacy), the first piece to the
right, as one goes in, is a small multiple structure that hints –ironically- at
minimal art without conforming. It is,
rather, a quiet introspective icon that introduces us into the spirit of the
exhibition.
If one
should start on the left hand side, as one goes in, one may walk into the small
video sitting room and look at Les feuilles mortes, the drawings in
pencil on pages torn from a copy book.
Drawings on lose copybook pages at Ruth Benzacar’s are, of course, an
instant reminder of the work by Liliana Porter, but in Macchi the content and
the intentions are totally different.
The small punched out holes, the straight lines that look as if they had
been dropped on the page and the white spaces create a rhythm, that go from lento
to staccato.
These
drawings, Macchi says, were seminal to Ornamento, the wallpaper covered
in tiny flowers, those flowers that finally fall in a dark heap at the end of
the panel. One wonders at the mental
process that turned something quite complex into this deceptive simplicity.
In The
speaker’s corner, he is weaving text and controversy, or the notions of
text and controversy, into long strips of paper cuttings, stuck on the support
with pins, on which inverted commas open and close on empty space. The speaker’s corner, by the way, is
the spot in Marble Arch, in Hyde Park, London, where people may go on Sunday to
discuss or make speeches about anything, however outrageous. This traditional weekly speaking out in
public must have seemed originally hygienic to the Crown, a sort of vaccine
against further evil. Macchi adds new
meanings to this basic intention. This
highly refined and elegant -adjectives that the author feels ill at ease with
–contemporary and relatively precarious, if you will, tapestry is an essay on
the intricate and subliminal paths of information and opinion.
Trained as
an artist, Macchi eventually became involved with performance as well, both
musical and theatrical. He cherishes
this interrelated intervention that drives each participant to take into
account the work of others. He does not
feel this as a limitation, but as context and atmosphere that add to his own
proposal. In La canción del final
(The last song), the blurry names of the cast and technicians of a given
film reel in front of our eyes as they do traditionally at the end of a
film. The words that most people do not
read, but that must be shown. More information that may not be duly processed
by the reader or the viewer.
Music
threads through the work, in the titles: Les feuilles mortes, Nocturne,
Variations, in the video installation: La canción del final, in a
score with music by Eric Satie on which the notes are written in pins, a
wonderful piece. This show exemplifies how
Macchi has been able to achieve one of the aims he set out for himself years
go: to translate musical language into visual work.
In Horizon,
in a detached twilit room, the author has drawn, by sticking pins on the wall,
a straight
line at eye level. The title is
descriptive, and yet, we may assume that the pins and the spaces in between,
barely modified, may also have musical connotations: silence – sound – silence
– sound. Macchi has been working with
pins as media for a very long time. They
design and redesign a specter of possibilities, visual and metaphysical, that
have always been inherent in his work. And it is this mystic quality,
impossibly to measure in terms of acknowledgement or success, that makes him a
major artist.
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