TERESITA FERNÁNDEZ Hurakán(Hanna), 2020 mixed media collage on wood panel 6 x 8 x 2.25 inches
Photo: Matthew Herrmann Courtesy of the artist and Lehmann Maupin, New York, Hong Kong, Seoul and London
「アーティストとの対話: Teresita Fernández」
徳田 佳世 (Curator)
I have tried to do my part by remaining at home as much as possible during the pandemic. I'm fortunate that my studio is a four-minute walk from my home, so it has given me the opportunity to focus on creating quiet, smaller works. This has been a very inward process, an experiment in privacy and silence.
Right after the quarantine was announced here in NYC, back in late March 2020, I started a series of small 6" x 8" collages that were done in a very meditative, instinctive way. The images looked like embryos, or abstract organic forms, under a microscope, or maps and aerial views of places. They were fuchsia, bright red, and neon yellow on darkened matte backgrounds. More than anything, they were experiments in image-making while I thought about the research I was doing on the Caribbean and the way that region has shaped our sense of nation, citizenship, and what we often classify as "dominant" or "periphery" in terms of geography. I thought a lot about what all these tiny islands mean. The Caribbean is the exact first point of colonial contact and conquest in the Americas. In many ways, it physically also reminded me of the similar archipelago of the Seto Inland Sea in Japan, a place I have always loved since I created a work in Naoshima in 2009 titled Blind Blue Landscape.
TERESITA FERNÁNDEZ Hurakán(Katrina), 2020 mixed media collage on wood panel 6 x 8 x 2.25 inches
Photo: Matthew Herrmann. Courtesy of the artist and Lehmann Maupin, New York, Hong Kong, Seoul and London
This past November I exhibited these small works in my show Maelstrom at Lehmann Maupin here in NYC. (Teresita Fernández, Maelstrom visual essay). They were installed in a room surrounded by a drawing of blue horizon lines that suggested the rise and fall of tides and water levels. Each small collage was named after a historic hurricane. In this way, the works really are about the idea of destruction, catastrophe, both natural disasters but also the man-made ones that stem from colonization and violent abuse of both the land and the people. They also suggest a kind of hope and redemption, a calm after a storm, and the sense of renewal and rebirth that always comes with devastation. In many ways, this global pandemic is also like that, a kind of devastating dismantling of systems and structures that perhaps also allows the radical act of imagining a world that can be more balanced and equitable, environmentally, racially, and economically.
Teresita Fernández, Brooklyn, NY February 2021
Photo: Natalia Mantini