January 2021
Nยบ 2
Vol. 1
Cover: Iwazaki, Nagato, (2008)Driftwood, [Series of wooden sculptures] Installation in Monti Fuji
κάθαρσις -Kathársis-
Catharsis can be understood as a process of purification and emotional, mental and spiritual freedom. Its origins are attributed in Greece, where Aristotle made use of the word to explain the sensation of the souls being cleaned after watching the greek tragedies. The cathartic method is the one used to elevate the emotion and beyond that, the liberation of it. It is curious to think about art works as part of the cathartic method. Who hasn't cried, shivered, been angry at an artwork? Catártica was born as a project with the intention to explore, experiment, discover and explode at the maximum, our capacity to feel through art.
Magritte, René, (1928)Le faux miroir [oil on canvas] MoMA, Nueva York, Estados Unidos
Who are we?
What do we want?
We are a group of students of different disciplines with the ambition of carrying art to anyone who needs it. With the desperation of making us be understand and heard in this world with so much noise, Catรกrtica allows us to have a voice behind tinted letters, having speeches that although they are monologues, open the dialogue in the students community and field professionals, and specially reach everyone who ignores, wants to know and feels ready to read voices with contrasting opinions. In a nutshell, Catรกrtica is our tool to make us understand and communicate our sensible and affective relationship with our world.
ONE ONE DAY DAY AT AT A A TIME TIME
ROMPAN ROMPAN TODO: TODO: DOCUMENTARY DOCUMENTARY OR OR
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HISTORICAL HISTORICAL FICTION? FICTION?
MATTER MATTER OF OF TIME TIME DEFINITIONS DEFINITIONS
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SO SO MUCH MUCH INK INK
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MY MY ART: ART: LOOKING LOOKING FOR FOR
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INTROSPECTION INTROSPECTION
DEADLINE DEADLINE
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TODAY TODAY II FEEL FEEL NOBODY NOBODY
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ONE ONE DAY DAY AT AT A A TIME TIME
María José Díaz I have the feeling that I have to survive everything. I consider different scenarios and always ask: how to escape? how to get out alive? Of course everything in my head seems easier because whenever I want I can turn back to reality. Weeks ago I got on a plane, I wanted to see my family from Monterrey. When I fastened my seatbelt, a black cloud flooded me. The plane collapsed, one of the wings fell apart. The crew went insane, but I didn’t. I stayed in my seat, feeling how the blood rushed through my cheeks, squeezing my sister’s hand. Squeezing the only thing that was real. How How
to to
escape? get
out
alive?
Real life is not like that. For some time now I feel like a tingling sensation in my body, a knot in my stomach and glass pieces in my throat. Some days ago I had a panic attack. Lies, I get attacks daily. They start in the most innocent way , then a thought gets into my mind. It plays with my guts, it feeds from my oxigen, it sucks me until I'm left paralised. Is this how Harry Potter felt when the dementors sucked his soul?
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There are days when I feel like a dementor, I suck on all the energy of those who surround me. If I were one of them I would be fat, because I’m always hungry, I want more. Leave them empty.... Let them feel how I do. Empty. I started going to the psychologist. I stopped feeling. Immersed
engrossed
drowned
‘They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can’t see them. Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory, will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself – soulless and evil. You’ll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life.’ (J.K Rowling)
In one class I read “La casa inundada” (The Flooded House) by Felisberto Hérnandez. At first I didn’t understand, until I became the house, I became the woman who floods her house and induces everyone else to do it. I went to the psychologist. I was tired of sucking (me), of drowning (me). I was diagnosed with Depressive Disorder and Anxiety, I wasn’t surprised, I was relieved. Millions of people have depression or anxiety, OCD, bipolar disorder, etc. and they don’t know it. They drown and drown others in the process. How to escape? How to get out alive? Living a day at a time, focusing on the moment. In the past months I made a lot of mistakes, I regret a lot of things, but I wouldn’t change a thing. If the dementors could go to the psychologist they would understand that the easiest thing is to suck everyone else, suck on their happiness and devour their good memories. The easiest thing is to flood a house, drown in the sea, but I don’t want the easiest things. I'm scared, reality surpasses me, living a day at a time and not knowing how to escape. Terrifying. That’s life, terrifying, filled with dementors and crazy ladies that flood their houses. But you have two options: be like them or live one day at a time, giving the best of you.
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ROMPAN ROMPAN TODO TODO DOCUMENTARY DOCUMENTARY OR OR HISTORICAL HISTORICAL FICTION? FICTION?
Lucero S.T. History is the discipline that studies the events of the past. It is a narration considered legitimate and objective, so sometimes we forget that it is not an exact science, it is not inflexible or unquestionable. In the cinematographic genres, its equivalent is the documentary, since it pretends to be an audiovisual story that objectively shows reality. Rompan todo was released last December 16th on the streaming platform Netflix and it didn't take too long to generate arguments about the curatorship of the bands and events that were mentioned in the six episodes. The problem with Rompan todo is that it has been cataloged as a documentary series when it is obviously not objective. The story, told by an Argentine composer, musician, and music producer Gustavo Santaolalla -and his friends-, certainly have biases, but this does not diminish his contributions.
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Rompan todo is a sociopolitical look at the 'history' of Latin American rock. From the first minutes is emphasized that it is a musical genre imported from English-speaking countries, and by being adopted by Spanish-speaking regions is attached to the language, instruments, and context of each place. But the most remarkable contribution of Rompan todo is the remembrance that rock was considered one of the main enemies of the State while Latin America was controlled by authoritarian governments.
Rompan todo put Latin American rock on the mouth and sound systems of all Netflix users by emphasizing its sociocultural importance in the political context of the second half of the 20th century. It reminded us that to differ is totally valid. It reaffirmed that rock is more than aesthetic or musical conventions, it is a cultural weapon capable of having an impact on the world.
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MATTER MATTER OF OF TIME: TIME: La La Piedra Piedra del del Sol Sol
M. I. Flores Nachón
One of my biggest obsessions is time. I am haunted by it, but I love trying to stop it with my eyes. Everything is always a matter of time. Time, as understood by prehispanic cosmogony, is a sacred liquid, with a constant and cyclical flow, matter and protagonist of preoccupation and attention. One of the pieces that I’m most passionate about, as an Art History student and mexican citizen, is La Piedra del Sol. La Piedra del Sol (best known as Aztec Calendar) is a basalt monolith, in which we can appreciate and understand the cosmogonical discourse of the mexicas (aztecs). I believe there is an aura of mystery and ignorance surrounding the piece, like there is in basically every other prehispanic object. Today I want to sit down to understand it with you; making a formal analysis of the piece and the essentials of each one of it’s rings.
THE FIVE SUNS To understand at an iconographic level it is necessary to know where everything comes from. The myth of the five suns, or the five eras, tells the story of the origins of life, the flow and the end of time. Tezcatlipoca and Quetzalcoatl, both dual and antagonic deities, responsible for the creation of the eras and the ends of them. The first sun, The sun of the earth Tlalchitonatiuh, created by Tezcatlipoca lasted 676 years in which humans lived at peace until Quetzalcoatl provoked the cataclysm that ended the era, the jaguars
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started devouring everything at its pace, at the same time the sun shut down, leaving the earth in a complete darkness. The second sun was created by Quetzalcoatl, the sun of Wind Ehécatl, its breath gave life to humans and everything around, until Tezcatlipoca intervened and triggered gusts of wind that killed humans on earth. Tlaloc was the sun of the fire rain, the third era that lasted 364 years, until Quetzalcoatl caused the rain to be set on fire, burning everyone. The fourth sun, Chalchiutlicue was the sun of water, it shined for 312 years until it flooded the earth and every living thing drowned. The gods gathered in Teotihuacan, a city in which men become gods, they confronted one another and questioned who was meant to be the next sun. Tecuciztécatl, a deity known for his arrogance and wealth, offered himself to jump into the fire pit that would give light to the sun, the major gods,
on the other hand, elected Nanahuatzing as a candidate, he was an old, poor and bubbly god. When the moment of jumping into the fire arrived, Tecuciztécatl froze and stopped, Nanahuatzin on the contrary, accepted his fate and let himself drop. Teciciztécatl, after seeing his sacrifice and bravery, jumped right after. The major gods waited until they saw the sun come out, Nanahuatzin had become Tonatiuh, the fifth sun. Behind his brightness, another star, Tecuciztécatl as a ball of fire just as bright. The gods couldn’t allow a second sun, so they decided to throw a rabbit at Tecuciztécatl’s face, making him the moon. Tonatiuh, our fifth sun, the era of movement in which we are right now, waiting for the end and the birth of the next one.
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WHAT DO I SEE? Right in the center of the monolith, we see the first deity: Tonatiuh. The sun of movements awaits with his tongue out, in the shape of a flint knife asking for sacrifice. On his sides he holds hearts in his hands with claws. Surrounding Tonatiuh’s face we can see the last four suns, on the upper right side Tlalchitonatiuh, on the left side Ehécatl, down to the left Tlaloc and last Chalchiutlicue. Represented in between each one of them, the cardinal points. The next ring around the sun, presents 20 days of the calendar system, called Tonalpohualli, it can be read in counterclock.This 20 days are combined with 13 numbers - understood as months-, causing the lunar year to have 260 days. The next circle is divided into five sections that represent weeks of five days, accompanied by eight sun rays that resemble the first bright star in the morning: Venus.
WHAT DO I UNDERSTAND? The aztec calendar and counting system depended on, as I said before, the lunar calendar, Tonalpohualli, 13 months of 20, but also on a solar calendar called Xoiuhpohualli, which consisted on 18 months of 20 resulting on 360 days, and five days of void called Nemontemi, in which the astronomical count was “invalid” but its calendarization was important as they were days in which the earth was left alone by the gods, anything could happen. Let’s remember that beyond the representation of the year as we know it, prehispanic art objects, like La Piedra del Sol, reminds us of the count of time, of this sacred liquid with constant and cyclical flow, destined to repeat itself until the end and rebirth of times. Having explained the myth of the five suns, I hope that what we see in the monolith is clearer. We can see the cosmogony of the mexicas, a system of thought that moved an entire culture and continues to permeate our current days. It is a myth of creation that sustains the ideology of a cultural pole and it is not appreciated until we understand it. A huge stone with profound meaning. The calendar system embodied in the monolith is surprisingly precise, and it is now that we understand the exactitude of the combination of both, the lunar and solar calendar, that we realize that all we have, palpable in our hands, we owe to our the ones who sowed our past. One of my biggest obsessions is time, how curious that even that could have been sowed centuries ago
Florescano, E., 1997. El Mito Nahua De La Creación Del Cosmos Y El Principio De Los Reinos. México, D.F.: Universidad Veracruzana.
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DEFINITIONS DEFINITIONS A year ago I wrote asking me: What is art?Today I ask myself: What am I? I’ve always enjoyed writing, but I have never considered writing about myself for Catártica. I feel like Catártica is such a perfect space that it doesn’t deserve to host my messy thoughts, I don’t want to screw it all. But at the same time, I understand that it is such a free space that I can shout and be heard without bothering. 15 days ago I got a hip surgery. I had one surgery like this before, like a mirror, on my right side, but for some reason this time I feel exhausted. The encouragement I had last time, is non-existent this time. It is curious how I feel sorry for all of those who live their lives sitting or lying, but I don’t want a pinch of compassion. I'm seated and I will be for the next six months, I feel the looks of pity and confusion. I do not enjoy those. 2020 was a blank page, it allowed us to scribble really weird things on it. Definitely it wasn’t my worst year, that title was awarded to 2016, but 2020 gave me time to think, to suffer and hate it all. I could write once a month for people who I don’t personally know, but who I feel like is always listening. It allowed me to question myself with incomprehensible thoughts. Something I thought I knew, I’m not so sure anymore.
Camnitzer, L. (1968). This is a Mirror, You are a Written Sentence . [Polyestirene]. Daros Latinoamerica Collection, Zürich.
M. I. Flores Nachón I paint, but I am no painter. I write but I am no writer. I study Art History, am I an Art Historian? Once I curated an exposition… Am I a curator? A year ago I asked myself, what is art? Art is a lie, that was one of my many conclusions; art is whatever the artist wants it to be. Beyond what a cinephile can say about me… Am I art? Do I have something to say? A year ago I cited This is a mirror, you’re a written sentence (1968) by Luis Camnitzer. I am a written sentence, beyond the 6 screws that don’t even get to define themselves. Beyond my bruised arms and red-eyes. Once I wrote that I was the captain of my own paper boat, I am not so sure about that anymore. I don’t know where the tide is taking me and a lot less I know how to sail a boat.
It is complicated thinking about defining oneself. This year I started psychological therapy, finally I convinced myself that I needed it because I wouldn’t let my past trauma define myself. I am not my past, but what is my present? Can we please stop trying to define things? I think that there are things that just are, without the necessity of being defined nor explained. I am a written sentence, I just don’t know what it reads.
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SO SO MUCH MUCH INK INK I had a dream. I was lying on the grass somewhere in a big country. Suddenly, someone came from below, carrying a large wire and a little box. The wire didn’t reach me and I had to get some meters closer; when I was close enough, I threw myself into the ground again and looked at the sky with folded hands. I didn’t know what time it was, but the sun didn’t hurt my eyes. That someone took something out of the box, I couldn’t see what it was, but I found a cloud with the shape of a Komodo dragon, and I thought to myself, in my dream I thought, when was the last time I had seen a Komodo dragon, or if I even knew what a Komodo dragon was and why was it called a dragon. I reached to the conclusion that it was all for publicity. I had that conclusion in my dream, and all of a sudden, I extended my hand and that someone put a bucket of ink on it. It reached my arm and the little machine that someone had taken out of the box started making noises. I continued watching the dragon, whose head had become an old sneaker and its body had lost its shape. The sneaker found its pair and they both went running; I closed my eyes and felt the light without seeing it. I was there for a long time, until the needle tickled me and I dropped the ink all over my hands. I spilled the bucket which was already gushing over the grass and painting it in black. I saw this when I opened my eyes, also I saw how the clouds began turning into a gray color, with one shape or another; moving quickly and blinding the sun. I turned my head to see my arm, I had it all streaked with figurines of all shapes and sizes, icons, words, faces, dates, signs I didn’t recognize. I knew that my other arm and my legs remained untouched, empty, with some spots but in general silent. I knew that I was lying there on the grass so that I could make more streaks, more letters and drawings, but I had spilled the ink and the sky had other plans. He knew it before I said something; he removed the needle from the machine to put it again in the box, an instant later he closed it. He stood up and left when the first drops of rain fell on the grass, over me and over my horror to the void.
Fernando Salas 14
MY MY ART: ART: Looking Looking for for introspection introspection
I've been drawing for as long as I can remember. Since I was a kid, I felt inspired a lot by characters and the style of anime, as I grew up, I started giving a more personal touch to my drawings; I grew to like realism. I started giving a story and an own significance, to the point in which more than being a hobby, drawing became my refuge; my means of expression as my mental health deteriorated in an imminent or constant way. When I had to choose a career, sometimes insecure about it, I chose to major in plastic arts, with the idea that it might be the right thing to do. I wanted to express things that are meaningful for me. At the same time I wanted to portray beauty with my ideas; but while I was good with the technicalities, I felt like I was lacking essence, and that left me uneasy. I always felt like something was missing, it was always hard to try and finish my work. Through some exercises and readings I understood that I needed to understand more of myself to achieve my goals. Besides that, my taste and personal interest in science and technology, among other things, helped me take the decision to change from art school to Biomedical engineering. Since then, I haven’t made any progress in my art, but I’ve worked on myself and I’ve
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thought about what I want to do with my art, and I believe that now I have it clear: I want to illustrate episodes that represent my issues with depression or my life situations, but also topics of impact on humanity. I want them to be beautiful and specially filled with color, something that is characteristic of my work. I don’t expect people to interpret the meaning right away, but I would be willing to explain; In hopes that maybe someone can relate with it.
My best pieces are the ones that I present here. They are three years apart from one another, one is from 2017 and the other one from 2020, a lot of things happened in that time. Yes, they are connected to each other, and to its name I add “The wakening” because it was the moment in which I finally had a clear and real idea of my intention with art and my life itself. In fact, it is one of the unfinished pieces that I began working on during my art school period that I finally finished. Koi Girl (2017). Watercolors 12 x 21 cm.020
@sawane.tan
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Koi Girl: The wakening, 2020. Mixed media: óleo con intervención digital.
Dalí, S. (1931) Persistence of Memory, [oil on canva] MoMA
DEADLINE DEADLINE
When mi father was told he would die from a heart attack, he wasn’t afraid; He was even told the age he would die; I don’t know because I covered my ears just in time. When I asked him if he feared dead, he said no. I asked if he didn't care about life, he said no. The news had fulminated him with such bliss that the smile was still wrinkled on his skin. I thought my father now lived life involuntarily, chained to the counted days and us. I asked, are you happy because you're going to die? He said: I've been told I'm going to die, my heart will stop and I'm going to die. Don't you realize? They finally confirmed it, all this time I've been alive. We'll see what's next. .
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Sandra Sofía Smithers Garciaruíz
TODAY TODAY II FEEL FEEL NOBODY NOBODY Today I feel nobody So nothing I will do today let my boyfriend be sad Because the sun is rising too late Let my father grumble For my lacking of profession Old man save your compliment Today I don't feel special Excuse me officer I have no identification While I was doing my homework My dog ate it, it's a confession If my tire is flat Don't worry, keep the car I'm sorry Mr. Jackson I won't attend your mansion. Take all my belongings And give them to my cat And if Plato comes back Ask him how he got that back Since everything is fixed Please close my room I will melt into my bed Without singing this song.
Creador: Steven Puetzer | Imagen propiedad de: Getty Images
-Amatista
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Dear Dear authors authors
If you are interested in publishing with us, take into account the following: 1. All texts and artworks must be sent to the Catรกrtica official email 2. Every text received will be checked by the Catรกrtica team. 3. If the editor considers it, changes will be made on the text, always respecting the authors original voice. 4. If you consider translating your own text into Spanish you can do so, our translators will check the process. 5. The texts and works must be sent in the following format Microsoft Word Arial 12 pts Margins superior and inferior must be 2.5 cm and 3 cm on the sides Images and illustrations should be cited in APA and sent in JPG or PNG
@catarticarevista
@catarticarevista catarticarevista@outlook.com catarticarevista@gmail.com
Magazine Director María Inés Flores Nachón @notae_stethicallypleasing maines_flores@live.com Cover Desing Antonella Guagnelli Cuspinera @antonella_gc antonella.guagnelli@gmail.com Editor Fernanda Loutfe Orozco @ferorozco ferlorozco@hotmail.com Editorial design Junuen Caballero Soto @junuencaballero junuen.caballero@gmail.com Publicity Lucero Solís Tellez @lust_tsul lucero.sol.tel@icloud.com María Inés Flores Nachón @notae_stethicallypleasing maines_flores@live.com
Artil Maria José Diáz @mapi_md mapidiaz42@gmail.com El Séptimo Arte Lucero Solís Tellez @lust_tsul lucero.sol.tel@icloud.com Arts 101 María Inés Flores Nachón @notae_stethicallypleasing maines_flores@live.com Crónicas de Marte Luis Fernando Salas Ramírez @fersalasrz luis.salasrz@udlap.mx Catalogarte Katia Michelle Campos Mora @papacreativa katy_campos11@hotmail.com Noche, Derroche, Nochera Alejandro Domínguez Nieto
Rincón de los poemas Sandra S. Smithers sandysmthrs smithersgr@gmail.com Ambulantes: Interviews Diana Carolina Gomez Ortiz @dcgo98 diana.gomezoz@udlap.mx Translators Ana Delia Castillo González @anna_2121 Claudine Gabriela Aguilar Encinas @gabe.docx
Glosario Catártica Emma Patricia Zamudio Salas @emma.zamudio.92 emma.zamudioss@udlap.mx Spotify Diana Carolina Gomez Ortiz @dcgo98 diana.gomezoz@udlap.mx