Marzo 2021
No. 2
Vol. 3
κάθαρσις -Kathársis-Kathársis-
Catharsis can be understood as a process of purificación and emotional, mental, and spiritual freedom. Its origins are attributed to 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 artworks as part of the cathartic method. Who hasn't cried, shivered, been angry at an artwork? Catártica is born as a project to explore, experiment, discover at the maximum, our capacity to feel through art.
Who Who are are we? we?
What What do do we we want? 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 understand and heard in this world with so much noise, Catártica allows us to have a voice behind tinted letters, having speeches that although they are monologues, open the dialogue in the student’s community and field professionals, and especially reach everyone who ignores, wants to know and feels ready to read voices with contrasting opinions. In a nutshell, Catártica is our tool to make us understand and communicate our sensible and affective relationship with our world.
Mayer, Mónica. The Clothing Line
Illustration by : Xaviera Altena
ACT ACT ONE: ONE: María María being being oppressed oppressed
A few months ago my brother, after breaking up with his now exgirlfriend, apologized to me. In his words "I want you to forgive me if I have ever hurt you", that day we cried, hugged and said how much we loved each other. The next day everything was the same again... I am the youngest of the family, my relationship has never been good with my brother and since I realized that a person who loves you doesn't treat you like he treated me, I started to walk away. Mom started treating me differently. I went back to the psychologist My family was breaking apart and they made me think it was my fault. In the course of the relationship between my brother and his ex, and at the peak of the problem, he stopped being at home, he only came for clothes and food. He stayed at his girlfriend's house. The truth is, I felt happier and calmer; I stopped being afraid, but as soon as he returned, I did not leave my room. Mom wanted me to forgive him, to ignore his attacks, his threats. She wanted him to love him because "he is your brother, he is family and you will always have to forgive the family."
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Mom, If we have to forgive family, why don't you forgive my father? He still attacked you, threatened us, beat us and humiliated us, isn't that the same? What is the difference between my brother and my father?
I am trouble in my family because of five reasons: 1. Everyone still sees me as a child, so if I get to talk about politics, sex or gender equality, they make me feel like I'm wrong. They shut me up because "pretty girls don't talk about it" 2. I study a career that, according to them, will not leave me a good future, but "it's good that you have a boyfriend, who will probably support you" 3. I'm not afraid to say no. I have been a vegetarian for 4 years and the only thing my family thought was “she does it because it's trendy”, “it is because she is traumatized” or better yet, “she does it to attract attention” 4. I constantly question everything I have around me and I am not ashamed to say that I do not know something. "If you don't know something, you shut it up because after having an education like you have it, it's a shame that you don't know" 5. I am not a believer. Within a Catholic family, with a grandfather who studied to be a seminarian, not having a belief (or rather not believing in the same thing as them) becomes a problem. "You will go to hell if you do not love God"
How something
to love that
hurts?
Since Mom's divorce, Catholic schools and people have branded us for being sinners, for coming from a broken marriage. An aspect that traumatized us but mainly my brother, who was criticized with more contempt and compared to his father. He has never known how to control his emotions, he is a person full of courage and in the slightest disagreement, he takes out all his hatred. The strongest fight we have ever had was over a dog, but not just any dog, but a rambunctious, ill-mannered black puppy named Cerberus. It was 3 am, my brother had just returned from his girlfriend's house, he came to do homework and was obviously in a hurry because it was due for the next day. He finished it, went to the bathroom, and the dog ate it. * In Greek mythology, Cerberus also known as Can Cerberus, was the dog of the god Hades, guarded the gate of the Greek underworld and ensured that the dead did not leave and that the living could not enter.
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FIRST PUNCH I am cornered, a coward. SECOND PUNCH Mom is crying in the stairs THIRD PUNCH My sister takes the dog to the kitchen, can’t stop crying FIRST STAB “I could hurt you, you are not an animal”
Welcome to the patriarchy, where the only people who win are men and remember, woman, that you have to forgive everything, that if your brother threatens you and then apologizes you must act as if nothing had happened. I hate being a puppet, I hate being represented as a rose, it annoys me to relate to bad men, those who hurt under the water, those who make an innocent face and when they attack you, they justify themselves with “I had a bad past”. We all have a bad past, many do not talk about it, but that is not why we go around the world attacking. They want to be forgiven but they don't change, they don't stop hurting themselves.
80% of the rapes come from relatives. 1 out of 3 women with psychotherapist care has suffered some type of abuse in childhood. 32.4% have been tended without their consent. 16.5% have been forced to sexually touch someone. 16.7% have suffered a penetration attempt without their consent. 9.6% have been penetrated without their consent (IDIAP, 2009)
I began to fight, not only for myself but for my mother, my sister, my friends and for all those women who have no voice, who have been taken from them. Most of my life I have been oppressed, I have been blindfolded, I have been forced to silence in a feminine way, I was educated to serve men but I am not like that. In the last 5 years I have unlearned many things, among them that my body belongs to my partner, that we must forgive and unconditionally love the family, that a woman looks prettier when she is quiet and that our sexual life depends on a man.
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Today I can tell you that none of that is true. My body is mine, if I wear a skirt today, I'm not doing it for my partner but for myself. My relationship with my brother has not improved and the truth is I do not expect it to do so, for me, he is a man that I do not tolerate and although we have the same genes I should not forgive his threats, I should not cover up his abuses. No one can control us and the only person we should fear is ourselves. So, dear female reader, if at any time you have felt oppressed, offended, harassed, abused, minimized or have been the victim of any other type of abuse, do not shut up! The fight is ours and if the others don't understand it then ignore them, forget about them just as they forgot about us. Do not shut up because your voice has a weight, you are important. Fight for yourself, shout for us and fight so that the new generations do not have to scream. Male reader, if you've ever hurt or attacked a woman, fuck you! You don't deserve respect, you don't deserve love, you don't deserve absolutely anything and I will tell you, with all my heart, to wipe away those crocodile tears because all that hatred you have, all that resentment and lack of attention will come back to you. You are your own crop and when you lose everything, you will realize that you are nobody. It does not make you more of a man to yell at a woman, you are not stronger for cornering her, you are not a king for snapping your mother's fingers, nor are you the most desired for forcing them to spread their legs. You are simply a coward, an insecure insect.
María José Díaz 8
THE THE MOLE MOLE AGENT: AGENT: DELIBERATIONS DELIBERATIONS ON ON SENSITIVITY SENSITIVITY
Lucero S.T.
In a nursing home in Santiago, Chile, a spy snuck in along with the residents, using his meticulous diary and a hidden camera to record every movement. His mission: to keep an eye on an inmate, find out if she was being mistreated, and find out who was responsible. All this seems to be typical of a detective movie, yet, I am talking about The mole agent, Maite Alberdi's most recent documentary that is nominated for the Oscars in Best Documentary. "Being sensible" is a phrase often used to describe the production of women, whether they are musicians, writers, or artists. But more than a compliment, it sometimes gives the impression of being a limiting factor that categorizes their production within a series of attitudes that are considered feminine. Simone de Beauvoir (1908-1986) explained it in The Second Sex (1949) with the phrase: "You are not born a woman, you become one", which synthesizes that femininity and its imaginary are a social construction. If we review the etymology of 'Sensibile' we will see that it comes from the Latin sensibilitas and means "the quality of being able to receive stimuli through the senses". Therefore, beyond being a feminine faculty, it is a human capacity. Despite my objection to using the term in question to explain female production, on this occasion I have decided to make an exception to talk about Maite Alberdi because it is a factor that we must recognize to understand The mole agent. Maite Alberdi Soto is a Chilean documentary filmmaker with solid filmography. She has worked as a sound recordist, editor, executive
producer, and director of photography, skills that are reflected in her use of cinematographic resources. In The mole agent, the references to detective films are presented from the first minute, which makes us doubt whether we are watching a documentary or a fiction film. The main character, Sergio, a recently widowed, is hired as a spy by a detective agency. Undoubtedly, Sergio's journey is the axis that marks the film and even the director admits that thanks to his slowness she was able to make different shots to focus on details that would not be captured in a conventional documentary. Although the documentary genre is intended to reveal objective reality, Alberdi admits that to do his
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work she becomes emotionally involved with the stories and people she portrays. To this must be added the ability with which Sergio executes his character as he shows an attitude totally committed to the investigation. It is through this work that we get to know the variety of personalities that inhabit the nursing home -most of them women-. There is the romantic, the poet, and also the escapist, from their daily life we become aware of their talents, their desires, and also their illnesses. The mole agent is a comic, emotional, and touching film that leaves us wondering whether we treat the elderly around us with respect and dignity. This is a distinctive feature of Alberdi's style as she openly assumes the social commitment to telling moving stories that raise questions and mobilize society.
Maite Alberdi's work touches the viewers' sensibility through narratives that deal with the everyday life of micro-worlds. And it is not because she is a woman or because we have a feminine side that we can connect with her films. The reason why we can laugh and cry with The Mole Agent is simply that we are human, sensible beings.
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SUFFRAG-ART SUFFRAG-ART
M. I. Flores Nachón "There is to me something hateful, sinister, sickening in this heaping up of art treasures, this sentimentalizing over the beautiful, while desecration and ruin of bodies of women and little children by lust, disease, and poverty are looked upon with indifference” Virginia Woolf. The suffragist movement is considered to be one of the first feminists fightsprobably the first one with international relevance, because I highly doubt that was the first time a woman raised her voice. The fight itself is defined historically as the pursuit of suffrage, the vote for women. Once the Industrial Revolution started, women started being taken into account as a laborer, working over 12 hours, nevertheless, their voices and forces were only valuable in a working space; socially and politically, women were still silenced. This article is dedicated to Suffragettes; barbaric women, criminals that screamed and vandalized streets in order to get what they wanted: to be heard. The difference between Sufragists and Suffragettes is simple, the method. Sufragists sought the same, but as a Dan -a friend- said while talking about this, they held the belief that words alone would help create the change they wanted, whilst Suffragettes shouted: Deeds, not words!
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I would like to talk about two anecdotes, that according to my field, concern me. The attack at Manchester Art Gallery in 1913 and The Mutilation of The Toilet of Venus in 1914. April 3rd, 1913, Annie Briggs, Lillian Forrester, and Evelyn Manesta entered the Manchester Art Gallery , where a huge collection of Pre-Raphaelites were exposed. According to the guards, those women were barbaric and unstoppable, breaking glasses and damaging our history. They had already ruined a whole wall and continued to break the pieces in the room; no other space had paintings of that value, they destroyed them all. They broke the glasses of thirteen pieces, only four where damaged in a repairable way. Annie, Lillian, and Evelyn were charged with “unlawfully and maliciously damaging” thirteen pictures in the gallery. They spoke.
“Women have to protest against things which are intolerable to them” —Annie Briggs “I have a degree in History, and my knowledge of History has spurred me to this fight for women’s freedom” — Lillian Forrester “I am a political offender” —Evelyn Manesta “If the Law would allow it, I would send you round the world in a sailing ship as the best thing for you” —The Judge.
Evelyn Manesta by Criminal Record Office, silver print mounted onto identification sheet, 1914 Suffragettes Annie Briggs, Lillian Forrester and Evelyn Manestra, 1913 courtesy of Manchester Archives
March 10th 1914, another glass broke and it shook the world. Mary Richardson took a hatchet and broke the glass of The Toilet of Venus by Diego Velázquez. Her hatchet wouldn’t stop on the cristal, she took a butcher’s knife and stabbed
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seven times along the naked woman’s back, fortunately, the art restorer successfully repaired it. Mary participated in many terrorist acts of her time. She was sentenced to six months in prison. The maximum time for art destruction at the time.
"I have tried to destroy the image of the most beautiful woman in mythological history as a protest against the Government of the destruction of Mrs. Pankhurst, who is the most beautiful character in modern history" —Mary Richardson.
Such a shame. Those are not the ways. Those women do not represent me. Those are not the ways of depicting a woman, as another object in the collection of things whose only purpose is to be pretty. Those naked women in paintings, without body hair, without wrinkles, without scars or bruises, without cellulite, don't represent me. I am represented by the ones that scream and fight for me, the ones who raised their voices so that I could wear my hair as I like, so that I could wear pants and I could vote for whomever I want. I am represented by those who quietly say the name of the one who hurt them, I am represented by the ones who shout it and paint it on the forehead of a Colombus statue Those are the ways that got me to where I am, and it seems there’s no other way to be heard. References. Manchester Art Gallery. Manchester Art Gallery Outrage | Manchester Art Gallery. [online] <https://manchesterartgallery.org/news/manchester-art-gallery-outrage/> [ 3 March 2021]. Manchester Guardian, 1913. Manchester Gallery Outrage. Aryse. 2021. Mary Richardson: la sufragista que mutiló "La Venus del espejo" | Aryse. [online] Available at: <https://www.aryse.org/mary-richardson-la-sufragista-que-mutilo-la-venus-delespejo/>
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Today, II am not sick anymore. NO NO NO NO NO Today, am not sickNO anymore. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
M. I. Flores Nachón
O O NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO Five years ago I wrote out of pain, out of fear and the anguish of a dirty soul. Today, I am not sick anymore, and I am not afraid to quote myself and speak.
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO 20.12.16 I thought I was over it. But I think it's hard to overcome something that makes you wake up agitated, with your hair on end, swollen eyes and a dancing jaw. You can't beat something that haunts you at night, and no matter how much the sun drives it away, it's still there. I thought I had overcome the sleepless nights, the shortness of breath, the weight on my chest, I thought you had already died, but I forgot that ghosts existed.
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
O O NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO Since I was a child, I had stopped being afraid of the dark, afraid of the night. But it is shocking how now, I behave like an adult, I live alone, I cook alone, I wash alone, I even make phone calls alone, but I have to sleep with a night lamp plugged in next to my bed. Now closing my eyes is my worst fear, it is shocking how I am so basic, and as a mosquito, I always look for the light. And now, not even taking a shower can take away how damaged my soul has been. It seems I can talk about it all without much concern, but every night in the shower I collapse on the floor crying. And don't get me wrong, I am not crying for him, I am not crying because he left me, I am not crying because I feel alone; I cry because I feel dirty, I feel sick without being it. I cry because he chases me despite having left him. I cry because my bruises could not be drained.
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
Because my "no" was not heard.
O NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO N I cry because when I get dressed each morning, I try to cover my skin as much as possible. I cry because my own body feels alien. I cry because I miss myself.
I thought it would be a matter of time. But time continues passing, and I continue watching
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOToday NO NO NO NO NO NO NO I don’t have to stay up all night, today I sleep without fear. Today I shout and fight for those stories that can’t be heard, I scream because I need you to listen to me and open your eyes to face the problem. Today I am not afraid anymore, today I am no longer sick. You can’t harm me now, J.F.L.G.
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO 16
IF IF II HAVE HAVE TO TO LIVE LIVE If I have to live, let it be without a rudder and in delirium. I stole the verse, someone else stole it before me, and if nobody steals it, this page must remain sad forever, sad since its birth, just in the third line. Sad not like being in the rain but like being in the rain without any fucking need, without waiting for anyone, without going anywhere, without wanting to be in the rain. Life is unbearable sadness, don't you think? Let me be tried as a thief. For all that my family thinks that I am not, for all that I can not tell almost anyone. Freedom is in oneself. Someone in prison knows it, someone in a cell laughs because he knows it, because neither the bars nor the blindness nor the stuttering are as hard as the illusion of being a prisoner. Speaking of which; let me be judged for not living: there is no worse crime. And if I am found guilty, I must be sentenced to death and executed before evening. Age is no crime but the shame of a deliberately wasted life among so many deliberately wasted lives is. said Bukowski. What a lot of things you can do being an alcoholic and a womanizer that even makes you want to. But you cannot walk in the shadow of anyone or you end up being less than that, just a reflection, just a rag, just a of bones capable of following orders, like so many other bags of bones playing to be and ignoring the game. And how not to be a sack of those that falls on the couch and turns on the TV. How. How? If one day I find the answer, I will bury it so that no one else has the misfortune to know and not be able to do anything. You have to choose, all the time you have to choose. ,
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What do we eat, where, who do we talk to, what for, what do we read, when do we start, what do we wear. There isn't much life left after that, it's already Friday afternoon and there's not much desire left after choosing to play dumb for so long. We must nip the problems in the bud, and then do nothing that we do not want, nothing that others want, nothing that has not come to us in dreams. I am already unable to sleep after seven in the morning. You have to follow the stream of the puddle that we are, see where it runs, see where it widens, see how it dries up. And after we realize the impossible of the task we have to give ourselves a shot. Sleep in a lake. Open the gas tap and light a cigarette. Appear and disappear on a cruise ship. You have to know that you are incapable of being what you want, but never accept what you can be. You have to live in a metaphor that never ends and no one understands and no one asks even if no one understands. I recently heard of a guy who moves to the outskirts of town, picks up a hen, feeds it, and now they write together. I mean, the hen does not write anything but accompanies him. Maybe she reads while, over his shoulder, and thinks, I would have said it better, but she shuts up for love. Maybe she'll pick up broken corn and do what chickens do. Maybe she sits in the corner of the desk and pose as if she is brooding, and think: I hope he writes something about me. I hope he tells his friends about me, his readers about me. Translating used to be hard work years ago, I guess. Now it consists of putting entire documents into the Google translator and looking suspiciously at the result but copying it anyway. How easy everything is being made, and we still don't give a shit about living. In 1974, Arthur C. Clarke said that one day a computer would fit on a desk. Thanks to that, people could live where they want and continue working. Cute and capitalist idea, but prettier, I think. Sometimes I think, I suppose not hard enough, that there are already few things that we can invent. Perhaps it is closer to the truth to say that almost all the most useful things have already been invented, and will only evolve but in essence they are there. Great. I hope that one day you will find peace in the light. I feel close: nothing makes me angry, I accept things as they are, I live by and for people and I know how to tell the truth. The rest are details. I have to go, because the son of a bitch I have for a neighbor thinks that we all like rock in Spanish. And it is not like that.
Fernando Salas
TLAHUILLI TLAHUILLI Daniela Felix Tlahuilli Náhuatl
Light of life. Illuminate a person's thinking, guide someone's path.
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Tlahuilli is an industrial design project that is part of the “Vente a México 2020” collection by the Mexican collective La Tlapalería. This collection aims to represent famous and emblematic places of our country through the aesthetic and functional design of objects for the home. Tlahuilli is a table lamp designed with the metal folding technique and inspired by the volcanic landscape where the warriors become legends and the gods touch the Earth, where a volcano named Popocatépetl stands, symbol of our history, our culture and our past. This piece represents the convergence between the ancient world and the present, basing its color palette on the purple hues that are appreciated during the sunrise of the volcanic landscape.
The complete collection is currently exhibited at Espacio CDMX as part of the Inédito Design Week México 2020 edition. @latlapaleria @dfr_design
TECHNICAL SPECIFICATIONS . Table lamp manufactured in 22 gauge galvanized steel with the Metal Folding technique. Laser cut and electrostatic paint finished with a combination of purple, gray and white. The general measurements are 8.5 cm wide, 26.5 cm long and 24 cm high with an approximate weight of 800 gr. Uses LED lighting
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MARISELA MARISELA WALKS WALKS Marisela walks, Marisela walks once, twice Or three times a day. Walks in the sun, over concrete and roads with dirt in Ciudad Juárez. Behind her, come all of the dead. Walks between spits of Chihuahua Walks ‘til Zacatecas. Marisela walks naked in the capital, asks an audience She gets a martyr. One night Marisela runs, crosses the crowded streets she stretches her arms to the city she gets ran over her skull gets ran over like her heart got ran over with a ruby We lose Marisela. It is said that we lost her three times She was killed three times But in fact it was eleven in fact it was 3630 times not even there was she dead What you don’t know is that in this fallen country the dead are never lost.
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Still thinking that the dead can’t talk A long time ago since the trees were painted purple, in front of the prosecutors filled with a bunch of assholes. A long time ago since the dead became sick of this. Marisela asked us to tell you if you want to fuck with someone you can’t fuck with us. Because it has been long since we are dead, really dead There you go, some shots to cry over your fucking father. Because in this country the dead walk Marisela walks Rubí walks Fabiola walks Fátima walks Mara walks. What are you going to do with us In what palace will you hide a bunch of coward men Where will they run to? Where will they run to when we come back to collect the debt for all of these dead
Sandra Sofía Smithers Garciaruíz
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WHAT WHAT IS IS BEING BEING A A WOMAN? WOMAN? to be born What is it to be a woman? like What is it to be a woman? woman What is it to be a woman? like What is it to be a woman? from What is being a woman? What is it to be a woman? delicate What is it to be a woman? dressing What is being a woman? skirt What is it to be a woman? carry What is it to be a woman? pink What is it to be a woman? smell What is it to be a woman? a What is it to be a woman? flowers What is it to be a woman? to be What is it to be a woman? shaved What is it to be a woman? putting on makeup What is it like to be a woman? to be What is to be a woman? submissive What is it to be a woman? sensitive What is it to be a woman? stay What is it to be a woman? quiet What is it to be a woman? lift What is it to be a woman? the What is it to be a woman? voice What is it to be a woman? fight What is it to be a woman? shout What is it to be a woman? walk What is it to be a woman? against What is being a woman? the What is it to be a woman? adversity What is it to be a woman? laugh What is it to be a woman? enjoy What is it to be a woman? work What is it like to be a woman? to be What is to be a woman? mother What is it to be a woman? sister, what is it to be a woman? aunt What is it to be a woman? girlfriend What is it to be a woman? wife What is it to be a woman? cooking What is being a woman? knitting What is being a woman? mend What is it to be a woman? dance What is it to be a woman? smile What is it like to be a woman? sing What is it to be a woman? calculate What is it to be a woman?
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What is it to be a woman? argue What is it to be a woman? reasoning What is being a woman? innovate What is it like to be a woman? to be What is to be a woman? loves What is being a woman? from What is being a woman? home What is it to be a woman? to be What is to be a woman? professional What is it to be a woman? to be What is to be a woman? independent What is it like to be a woman? love What is it to be a woman? pray What is it to be a woman? believe What is it to be a woman? listen What is it to be a woman? have What is it to be a woman? breasts What is it to be a woman? and What is being a woman? hips What is it to be a woman? have What is it to be a woman? fear What is it to be a woman? think What is it to be a woman? to be What is to be a woman? strong What is it to be a woman? and What is being a woman? fight What is it to be a woman? and What is being a woman? fight What is it to be a woman? and What is being a woman? fight What is it to be a woman? and What is being a woman?
To die?
The Ministry of Public and Citizen Security (SSPC) reported an annual increase of 0.3% in femicides in 2020, which would mean that at least 1,015 women died in a murder classified as gender violence. But according to the accounting used by civil associations and independent government agencies, almost 11 women are murdered a day in Mexico.
A.G.C
REFERENCIAS Femicides and sexist violence, the enormous challenges facing Mexico in 2021 in terms of gender. (2021, January 8). infobae. https://www.infobae.com/america/mexico/2021/01/08/feminicidios-yviolencia-machista-los-enormes-retos-que-enfrenta-mexico-en-2021-en-materia-de-genero/
MISS MISS A A Miss A, Miss A, I blame you for everything I blame you for my stress, and my decisions, I blame on you my insecurities and manias my relationship without joy, my irrelevant projection. Miss A, Miss A three times It is because of you that every two months I get disappointed with myself and start over No more poetry, no more songs Life now is like being sober Miss A I don’t longer sleep Miss A I don’t longer eat Miss A I don't exercise Miss A I quit my job Miss a I don’t longer fuck Fulfill your mission, save me Complete your goal, Destroy me But do it from the inside The way you know That feels right Tickle my ribs And fill your fingers with infinite air Constipate my chest so I can bear Til´I shake my ankles and wrists.
Leave me immobile Wishing to implode Make me forget about you Make me forget my love Miss A, kill me Do your fucking job
Alejandro Domínguez Nieto 26
IN IN A A WORLD WORLD OF OF MEN, MEN, SHE: SHE:
LETICIA LETICIA TARRAGÓ TARRAGÓ M. I. Flores Nachón
Sunday, February 14th, I had the opportunity to meet Miss Leticia Tarragó. She had to get surgery and it was really curious to be there, sitting there with her, in my post-surgical recovery while she was too in her post-surgical recovery. She, who in a world of men was a great Mexican Artist from the second half of the 20th century. She, whom I had read about in books and semblances to understand Mexican Art History. So fun to be there, both of us sitting between syringes and medicines. What a wonderful woman, her and all of her family, heartwarming people. As soon as I crossed my first word with her, I knew I wanted to write about her. Honor to whom honor is due. I want to write about you, Miss Leticia, not only for the strong roots I feel crossing under us for the million things that we have in common, like the Pitaya River or back pains but because we’re both women and it is an honor to be writing about you. During the 20th century, Mexican Art was marked by great artists; probably the moment with most international recognition, great names like Diego, David, José, Rufino, then Mathias, Rafael, Rodríguez. Less names like Leonora, Remedios, Kati, María, Lilia, Leticia. Leticia Tarragó was born in Orizaba, Veracruz in 1940, at the age of 13 she began her life as an artist and since then, her work reflects the great mastery of drawing, the thin line that delimits reality from fantasy. Painter of dreams. Pictures, engravings, painted pottery that refer us not only to the internal world of Miss. Leticia, but also to our own unconsciousness; images with living dreams. In her pieces, it is easy for us to lose ourselves in a surreal peace, with characters taken from our imaginary friendships of our childhood. We can relate to them as if it were a story, undo a narrative that only we, and she would understand. Sitting in flying chairs, having tea with a kitten, an elephant, a horse, an angel and a mermaid, Tarragó gives us back the illusion and the color that the gray world has taken away from us.
Leticia Tarragó is a painter of the stillness that disturbs, of the serenity that alters. Estela Shapiro said about her. (Shapiro, 2002)
Teacher, I honor you and I thank you because you, in a world of men with engravings, pencils, inks, melancholic eyes and round faces, opened the way for those who today want to write our history, the History of Their Art.
Leticia Tarragó. Noticias del estudio, Editora de Gobierno del Estado de Veracruz, Xalapa, 2002, p. 9
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QUESTIONING QUESTIONING ART ART HISTORY: HISTORY:
CLAUDIA CLAUDIA BARRAGÁN BARRAGÁN ARELLANO ARELLANO
Lucero S.T. Claudia Barragán is a curator, cultural agent, and specialist in museums, organization of art exhibitions, and cataloguing of collections. She has collaborated with different museums in the field of conceptualization and organization of exhibitions. In Mexico: Antiguo Colegio de San Ildefonso, Museo de Arte Moderno, Museo Nacional de Arte and Museo Colección Blaisten. Abroad with the Metropolitan Museum and the Museum of Modern Art in New York, Grand Palais in Paris, Museum of Fine Arts in Lyon, France, and the Museum of Latin American Art in Buenos Aires, Argentina. She is co-author of several books and exhibition catalogues, among which we can highlight: Mexique 1900 - 1950. Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo, José Clemente Orozco et les avant gardes (2016), 50th anniversary of the National Museum of Anthropology (2014); Mexican Modern Painting from the Andrés Blaisten Collection (2010). Since 2019 she has been working as a professor at the Universidad de las Américas Puebla and advises private collections cataloguing. Due to her experience and vast academic background, Claudia Barragán guides her students both theoretically and practically. She emphasizes the importance of teamwork and invites her students to re-examine the discipline of Art History with a critical eye. The importance of Claudia's work lies in her participation as a cultural agent and the education of a new generation of assertive and judicious artists and art historians.
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REFERENCIAS Feminicidios y violencia machista, los enormes retos que enfrenta México en 2021 en materia de género. (2021, 8 enero). infobae. https://www.infobae.com/america/mexico/2021/01/08/feminicidiosy-violencia-machista-los-enormes-retos-que-enfrenta-mexico-en-2021-en-materia-de-genero/
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