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 REVIEW Not Your Mother's Folk Art Maribel Portela creates traditional Mexican figurative sculpture with a modern flair. BY KATE BONANSINGA |
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Ceramic works by Maribel Portela Galeria Cecily Quintana 515 SW Broadway, suite 2, 221-0569 Ends Nov. 30 Galeria Cecily Quintana is the new name of Art of the People. There are changes afoot in Mexico, and Portland gallery owner Cecily Quintana is taking note. During her recent trips south of the border, Quintana observed students and new graduates of fine art universities adopting artistic styles and prejudices similar to those living in large urban centers of the United States and Europe. They have little appreciation for folk art--made by artists without formal training--and consequently turn their backs on a cornerstone of their homeland's art history. The students even shun such famous 20th-century Mexican artists as Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera because they were inspired by traditional art forms. Maribel Portela, a 38-year-old Mexican sculptor whose work is currently on view at Galeria Cecily Quintana, has avoided this trend. A graduate of the National School of Plastic Arts, one of Mexico's more prestigious art universities, Portela also has a deep appreciation for historical and folk art. Her sculptures fuse this with a contemporary sophistication and personality. For example, her figurative works, mostly clay, evoke a reference to Nayarit (200 BC-500 AD) and Mayan (600 BC-900 AD) funerary figurines. These ancient sculptures, usually terra cotta, stand about a foot high. With their vacant eyes and mere suggestions of noses, the ancient figurines present a human form that is not fleshed out but catches the essence of what is human. Portela's square wall pieces, decorated with representational and abstract images both incised and in relief, look to traditional santos (personal altars) found in private homes. Santos integrate the supernatural with the real and seriousness with humor, a characteristic of much South and Central American art and literature. Quintana chose a few pieces from several different areas of Portela's work, so the exhibition serves as an introduction to the artist rather than as a cohesive visual statement. Some of the best are from a series of small, three-dimensional busts that sit atop thin steel rods as though staked. The execution is intentionally naive: Facial features are exaggerated, noses and ears are oversized and eyes are placed toward the tops of the foreheads. The God of Force crosses his hands over his chest in both the clay and bronze versions. Man with Seeds wears a cap that looks like half an opened nut shell and cradles a large seed lovingly in his arms, which are tattooed with images of brown leaves. The Trip raises his hands to his head, on which he balances a boat, complete with passenger. A sketch of a nude man and woman adorns his chest, and he wears a puzzled expression on his face, as though he can't figure out why his neck is so tired. The Trip acts as a transition to the other pieces of note, which are from an installation of small sculpted clay boats originally shown in a group of 700 on the floor of a museum in Monterrey, Mexico. In Navigator of the Aegean Sea, the figure sits bolt upright in his boat, legs outstretched and hands resting on his thighs, in confident control of his direction and his destiny. The Diver, in contrast, does a back dive from his canoe, in search of calmer waters. Portela uses humor to portray cross-cultural human concerns and reactions. Likewise, she uses clay as a vehicle to create a form that's unconcerned with exploring the diversity of ceramic techniques and glazes that preoccupy many potters. She attains her dark palette with washes of manganese stain. Agustin Arteaga, a Mexican art critic who wrote about We Are Time, Portela's 1997 solo exhibition in Mexico City, captures the crux of Portela's art: "Her primary medium is easily confused between the clay which gives it origin and the human spirit which engenders it." Because Portela draws upon traditional art forms while embracing the contemporary avant garde, she is an appropriate choice to introduce Cecily Quintana's redefined vision for her gallery. Quintana named the gallery Art of the People when she opened in 1995, in part to distinguish her enterprise from Quintana Gallery, which is owned by her parents. She also planned to focus on folk art as her parents did, hoping to create a market for finely crafted pieces that are produced by one artist. But it was too difficult for clients to see the difference between these sorts of pieces and the street art created for tourists that is hand-crafted in assembly lines and therefore much less expensive. Quintana now plans to deal primarily in Latin fine art. Most Mexican fine artists (especially the young and educated ones) are hesitant to show in a gallery with a name that suggests folk art, so she changed the name to Galeria Cecily Quintana. The change, which was necessary to build a solid stable of artists, also salutes the gallery's relocation almost a year ago to a charming, airy space on Southwest Broadway and reasserts the gallery's connection to a family of Spanish speakers and gallery owners.
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