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Macba makes a call to the barricades

Barcelona’s Museum of Contemporary Art hosts work by Brazilian artist Cinthia Marcelle that aims to “disorganise the hierarchies and binary oppositions that pattern our daily interactions”

Nau is filmed from a bird’s eye view, which is a perspective she often uses MARCELLE WANTED HER WORK TO LOOK ONTO THE STREET INSTEAD OF BEING CONFINED INSIDE THE GALLERY
“It is one of the most exciting exhibitions that can be seen this season in Barcelona” HER NATIVE BRAZIL IS HER MAIN LABORATORY, BUT HER MESSAGES ARE APPLICABLE EVERYWHERE

My cre­ative process is based on the con­vic­tion that art is not above any­thing, nor is the artist above any­one else.” So says Cinthia Mar­celle (Brazil, 1974), whose artis­tic ca­reer span­ning two decades, in­clud­ing the high­light of rep­re­sent­ing her coun­try at the 2017 Venice Bi­en­nale, is the sub­ject of the ex­hi­bi­tion, A Con­junc­tion of Fac­tors, run­ning at Barcelona’s Mu­seum of Con­tem­po­rary Art (Macba) until Jan­u­ary 8.

“It is one of the most ex­cit­ing ex­hi­bi­tions that can be seen this sea­son in Barcelona,” says the di­rec­tor of the mu­seum in Plaça dels Àngels, Elvira Dyan­gani Ose.

Yet it is the pub­lic who has the last word, and in a lit­eral sense be­cause much of the art, which in­clude in­stal­la­tions, pho­tographs and films, re­quires the pub­lic to make de­ci­sions. At the out­set, Mar­celle leaves it to the vis­i­tor to choose whether to go right or go left. It is not a ran­dom choice. On the right, the vis­i­tor will find metic­u­lously arranged and stacked ma­te­ri­als, most of them every­day and seem­ingly harm­less items: rolls of string, match­boxes, smoke bombs, pieces of cloth, rolls of plas­tic or brown paper, bricks, ad­he­sive tape, boxes of chalk, stones, bar­rels, notepads, and chicken feath­ers. On the left are to be found all these same ma­te­ri­als, in the same quan­ti­ties, but they have been used to build a bar­ri­cade that turns the Macba into a space for so­cial strug­gle.

Dur­ing the ex­hi­bi­tion’s open­ing, Mar­celle, in a tank top printed with the im­ages of Lula da Silva and Nel­son Man­dela, would not let the press take pho­tographs of her for the sim­ple rea­son that she does not con­sider her­self to be the au­thor of the work, as she had left set­ting up the bar­ri­cade en­tirely to a group of cre­ators to do as they wished.

It is along the left path (the one on the right ends in a cul-de-sac) that the route con­tin­ues through the ex­hi­bi­tion, which Dyan­gani de­scribes as “a call to dis­or­der in a pos­i­tive and eman­ci­pa­tory sense.” Mar­celle and her ret­inue of col­lab­o­ra­tors have brought to Macba “the de­sire to in­ter­rupt the nor­ma­tive way of con­ceiv­ing the re­la­tions of peo­ple with the world”, ac­cord­ing to race, sex or so­cial class, says cu­ra­tor, Iso­bel White­legg.

Her na­tive Brazil is her main lab­o­ra­tory, but her mes­sages are ap­plic­a­ble every­where. She also shows a great deal of in­tel­li­gence when it comes to weav­ing artis­tic nar­ra­tives from old and new threads that are just about in­dis­tin­guish­able. It is about a past that is very much pre­sent and a pre­sent very much in­her­ited from the past, as can be seen in one of the videos she made from the Venice Bi­en­nale. Nau is filmed from a bird’s eye view (a per­spec­tive she often uses) and shows a group of men dis­man­tling the tiles of a roof in order to get out­side, where they tear up foam mat­tresses and set them on fire. The artist says there was a dual mo­ti­va­tion be­hind the work: the ter­ri­ble sit­u­a­tion in the pris­ons in Brazil in the 21st cen­tury and the mor­tal­ity of slaves in im­pe­ri­al­ist ships that today is repli­cated in the rafts of mi­grants.

The video’s per­form­ers were builders. Mar­celle often works with am­a­teurs, who she asks to do what they usu­ally do but with a small script change. In the case of the builders, she asked them to undo what they usu­ally do, which is to build roofs.

An­other film shows work­ers from the re­gion of Minas Gerais, Brazil’s ground zero for the colo­nial ex­ploita­tion of min­eral re­sources (in­clud­ing gold and di­a­monds), using an ex­ca­va­tor to mark out the sym­bol of in­fin­ity on the naked red earth that had for­merly been cov­ered with for­est.

Vis­i­tors are for­bid­den (the irony!) from al­ter­ing the bar­ri­cade in­stal­la­tion. Yet they are in­vited to take part in a per­for­mance, of the plays Sor­tilégio by Ab­dias do Nasci­mento, founder of the Black Ex­per­i­men­tal The­ater, and Une Tempête by Aimé Césaire, one of the founders of the Négri­tude move­ment. In the gallery, or from any­where in the world via the aarea.​co on­line plat­form, the pub­lic can pro­pose songs they think fit in with the sub­ver­sive at­ti­tudes that the texts in­voke, which will then be broad­cast live.

The stag­ing of the plays can be seen from a side win­dow of the Macba build­ing, as Mar­celle wanted her work to look out onto the street in­stead of being con­fined in­side the gallery for the ex­clu­sive en­joy­ment of those who have paid to enter. In­side or out­side, the Brazil­ian artist is con­cerned about the cap­i­tal­ist drift of the art world, and she pro­poses that pub­lic in­sti­tu­tions re­think whether they truly want to com­mit them­selves to cor­rect­ing the evils of their time.

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