Recovecos I
2019
Lisa Croner
Giuliana Funkhouser
Svetlana Gayshan
Jeff Maylath
Lexygius Sanchez Calip
Samuel de Lemos
Blanca Bercial
2019
Lisa Croner
Giuliana Funkhouser
Svetlana Gayshan
Jeff Maylath
Lexygius Sanchez Calip
Samuel de Lemos
Blanca Bercial
Recovecos is the Spanish word for nooks, hidden places, and hideouts. Recovecos aims to bring wordsin place to reverberate their messages further than a hidden corner can sustain. To reclaim words place in the arts, to be shown, to be shared, and finally, to be heard.
This project started in the summer of 2019, and has continued with Recovecos II and III. Every exhibition is a different conversation between artists that play with the duality of language, with the texts that intermingle in our everyday life, and with the postmodern clarity of meaning with words. Curated by Blanca Bercial and Samuel De Lemos, Recovecos is an ongoing project, where the expectations are left to the possibilities of language and the discourse that flow from artists works in conversation.
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This project started in the summer of 2019, and has continued with Recovecos II and III. Every exhibition is a different conversation between artists that play with the duality of language, with the texts that intermingle in our everyday life, and with the postmodern clarity of meaning with words. Curated by Blanca Bercial and Samuel De Lemos, Recovecos is an ongoing project, where the expectations are left to the possibilities of language and the discourse that flow from artists works in conversation.
Recovecos II
2020
Jeff Maylath
Lexygius Sanchez Calip
Liu Sang Chi
Miles Stemp
Shao Yan
Samuel de Lemos
Blanca Bercial
2020
Jeff Maylath
Lexygius Sanchez Calip
Liu Sang Chi
Miles Stemp
Shao Yan
Samuel de Lemos
Blanca Bercial
Recovecos III
2020
Tamara Khasanova
Jeff Maylath
Lexygius Sanchez Calip
Miles Stemp
Christian Tan
Zhang Mengjiao
Samuel de Lemos
Blanca Bercial
2020
Tamara Khasanova
Jeff Maylath
Lexygius Sanchez Calip
Miles Stemp
Christian Tan
Zhang Mengjiao
Samuel de Lemos
Blanca Bercial
Audio Book / 2020
Wood, back spray, mylar, cord
((Transmitting sound ))
((Transmitting sound ))
Handle with Care / 2020
Pins, nails, fishing hooks, fabric, metal wire
Handle with Care / 2020
Typewriter on petals
Anne Bremer Memorial Library’s 37th Artists’ Book Contest Award
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Typewriter on petals
Anne Bremer Memorial Library’s 37th Artists’ Book Contest Award
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Trash poems / 2019
Shredded poems in a jar
Anne Bremer Memorial Library’s 36th Artists’ Book Contest Award
Shredded poems in a jar
Anne Bremer Memorial Library’s 36th Artists’ Book Contest Award
I’ve been taking photos in the streets of San Francisco from 2017
I wrote a poem for every one of them
Photos and poems inhabit this jar as TRASH
Their subjects inhabit the streets
Day after day
Living and non-living inhabit the unseen
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I wrote a poem for every one of them
Photos and poems inhabit this jar as TRASH
Their subjects inhabit the streets
Day after day
Living and non-living inhabit the unseen
The Creek / 2021
El arroyo
Typewriter on paper, water
El arroyo
Typewriter on paper, water
Care / 2020
Handle with Care Series
Barbed wire
8.5 in x 23.5 in
8.5 in x 23.5 in
Self
Care, Health Care, Dental Care, Skin Care, Life Care, Don’t Care, Care Taker,
Care Plan, Personal Care, Hair Care, Primary Care, Child Care, Palliative Care,
Critical Care, Take Care, Give Care…
Living in San Francisco, I have heard the word ‘care’ countless times, to the extent that I started questioning if this word has lost its meaning due to the extreme use that is made of it. ‘Care’ has become a ready-made word. Yet ‘care,’ like barbed wire, hurts if we are close enough to handle it.
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Living in San Francisco, I have heard the word ‘care’ countless times, to the extent that I started questioning if this word has lost its meaning due to the extreme use that is made of it. ‘Care’ has become a ready-made word. Yet ‘care,’ like barbed wire, hurts if we are close enough to handle it.
Bestiario / 2020
Typewriter on mylar
From Poetry as a Critical Form
Typewriter on mylar
From Poetry as a Critical Form
How can poetry be translated from one language to another without losing its essence? For this project I have translated Julio Cortazar's first short stories book Bestiario, words filled with metaphors that transcend the ordinary to deeper existential and sociopolitical questions. (((Bestiario))) consists of 8 short stories narrating monstruos appearances in the daily life of different people. The monsters and the stories in the book are metaphors for the quotidian of the everyday and from the writer's personal and historical context. Their complexity can only be translated with simple acts, and in an effort to translate the untranslatable, I have translated the eight stories to symbol-based poems. Each pair of symbol-based texts signify one story contained in Cortazar’s book. Through this self-made language, I seek to illustrate the essence of each story in the simplest way possible, and question the use we make of languages, how we shape them, how they shape us in return, and ultimately, how we make sense of them.
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Sound Poems Series
Concrete Poems Series
Air Poems Series
Untimed / 2020
Clock mechanism, acrylic plastic, fishing line
From Photography Without Camera / Machine Gaze
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Clock mechanism, acrylic plastic, fishing line
From Photography Without Camera / Machine Gaze
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Present / 2019
invisible ink on white wall, UV flashlight
From Recovecos II
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Projection at Tunnes of the Mind
ZAZ 10 Corners Times Square
invisible ink on white wall, UV flashlight
From Recovecos II
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Projection at Tunnes of the Mind
ZAZ 10 Corners Times Square
This is Okay / 2019
Tape on wall
Two-side mirror
Collaboration with Lexygius Sanchez Calip
From Mistranslation
Tape on wall
Two-side mirror
Collaboration with Lexygius Sanchez Calip
From Mistranslation
Holes of Speech / 2019
galvanized steel sheet
///
holes of speech / 2019
4’18’’
Voice narrating Julio Cortazar’s Me caigo y me levanto poem in Golden Gate park, in-betweness-ness environmental sounds reverberations and echoes
From ...
galvanized steel sheet
///
holes of speech / 2019
4’18’’
Voice narrating Julio Cortazar’s Me caigo y me levanto poem in Golden Gate park, in-betweness-ness environmental sounds reverberations and echoes
From ...
Pauses in spoken language were never silent but mute. These pauses contain all the ambient sounds that immerse diction within a soundscape. On the other hand, written language pauses have names but not sound.
How does an ellipsis sound?
How do we pronounce a word made of punctuations marks?
In Holes of Speech, I recorded the sound of my voice reading a poem of Julio Cortázar in a tunnel of Golden Gate Park. Afterwards, I listened to the sounds in-between words, the pauses, the punctuation marks. These silences contain sounds yet we never grasp them.
For that, I made a composition of those sounds in-between my voice.
This sound installation contains punctuation marks sounded and augmented, distributed to conform new words.
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How does an ellipsis sound?
How do we pronounce a word made of punctuations marks?
In Holes of Speech, I recorded the sound of my voice reading a poem of Julio Cortázar in a tunnel of Golden Gate Park. Afterwards, I listened to the sounds in-between words, the pauses, the punctuation marks. These silences contain sounds yet we never grasp them.
For that, I made a composition of those sounds in-between my voice.
This sound installation contains punctuation marks sounded and augmented, distributed to conform new words.
Self Care, Health Care, Dental Care, Skin Care, Life Care, Don’t Care, Care Taker, Care Plan, Personal Care, Hair Care, Primary Care, Child Care, Palliative Care, Critical Care, Take Care, Give Care...
Living in San Francisco, I have heard phrases containing the word ‘care’ countless times, to the point that I started questioning if the word has lost its meaning from extreme use. Care, like barbed wire, only hurts if we are close enough to handle it.
Who cares? Who really cares when we say we ‘care’?
To care is to be hurt. Yet, the closer we get to the unknown, the more we care.
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Living in San Francisco, I have heard phrases containing the word ‘care’ countless times, to the point that I started questioning if the word has lost its meaning from extreme use. Care, like barbed wire, only hurts if we are close enough to handle it.
Who cares? Who really cares when we say we ‘care’?
To care is to be hurt. Yet, the closer we get to the unknown, the more we care.
Stiffness can’t stop the water / 2020
Single channel video
Collaboration with Lexygius Sanchez Calip
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Obra parte de la exposición Photography
Without Camera II. ¿Cómo podríamos fotografiar sin cámaras? ¿Cómo ejercemos
una función fotográfica entre nosotros? Ouroboros presenta un loop infinito de
fotografías en un abrir y cerrar de ojos. El ojo está tomando fotografías
constantemente,una narración de memorias fotográficas. Cada vez que mi ojo se
cierra, tomo una fotografía de la persona que está mirando el vídeo, que a su
vez, toma fotografías de mi ojo al mirarlo con los suyos, ambos nos encontramos
en un uroboros fotográfico, en una fotografía constante.
How could we take photographs without a camera? How do we photograph each other?
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How could we take photographs without a camera? How do we photograph each other?
