Showing posts with label Inés Estrada. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Inés Estrada. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Introducing Exu

Robert Boyd



A few months back, I wrote about my own personal writing crisis. Writing reviews of art shows just wasn't satisfying to me anymore. Obviously I haven't quit writing--I have written nine posts since then, but none have been reviews of art exhibits.

The problem is that I still see art in the galleries and artists spaces and museums that I love. I would like to share this love. I have an impulse to grab people by the lapels (even if they don't have lapels and even though I am opposed in principal to unsolicited lapel grabbing) and say, "Look at this!" People who follow me on Instagram know this. I frequently post photos of art I just seen and liked. (I'm ROBERTWBOYD2020 if you want to follow me there.)

Anyway, I think it was this impulse to share art I like that made me want to do my new project--a tabloid-sized newsprint art magazine called Exu. There are other things I could have done. I could have curated an exhibit, for example. But an exhibit lasts maybe a month, then it comes down, and not that many people see it--particularly if they live someplace else. I could have started a Tumblr. But while I look at images online constantly, there is something not quite satisfying for me about seeing them there. That was always a problem I had with this blog--I tried hard to show as many images as possible, but I wasn't particularly happy with the small, relatively lo-res images I reproduced.

My background is in print publishing. Before I started the job I have now, that was my profession. I still buy lots of physical books, especially books that have a visual component--art books and comics. I could get them on Kindle or another electronic delivery systems, but for the reasons above, I don't find that particularly satisfying. (I read plenty of all-prose books electronically, though. I'm not a luddite.)

So what I wanted to do was to publish something (IRL as they say) that would show the artwork I liked in a large format. I didn't want to do it the way art magazines like Artforum or, locally, Arts+Culture do--a small picture surrounded by type. I wanted the image to be everything. I wanted it to take up the whole page, or as much as it could. If there is a magazine that embodies this concept, I'd say it's Toilet Paper, the art magazine published by Maurizio Cattelan and Pierpaolo Ferrari--page after page of images with nary a word among them.

I picked the newspaper tabloid format because it's large and because tabloids have a tradition of eye-catching graphics and, well, lapel-grabbing stories. That made me think I wanted there to be narrative content in my magazine. The pictures should tell stories, or at least imply them. So that ruled out abstract images (although in the end, I have one pure abstraction and one word-based image). Then I decided that the narrative could also be prose. I was specifically thinking about literary nonfiction and great magazine writing. So I contacted some writers I know and commissioned some prose. And since we're talking about narrative, the visual printed artistic medium that best exemplifies narrative is comics. I don't know that many Houston cartoonists--it's not a hotbed like of great cartoonists like Seattle or New York. But I contacted the ones I know for a few pages of comics.

The name Exu was inspired by a work of art I saw in Chasity Porter's Dormalou Project (a mobile art gallery). She had a show up of work by Anthony Suber called Archaic Habit. It was a cool show that mixed contemporary African-American pop culture and rootsy African culture seamlessly (and humorously in some cases). One of the works had the word "Eshu" in the title. Eshu is a Yoruban orisha, or deity. I was more familiar with the Portuguese spelling, Exu. In Brazil, Exu is in the pantheon of the syncretic religion of Candomble. He is the god of the crossroads--you invoke him to help you make decisions. I lived in Brazil for a while and I had a statuette of Exu. In Brazil, Exu is identified visually with the Devil. (All the other Orishas are identified with Catholic Saints.) My cheap ceramic statue was a rather old-fashioned representation of the devil--pointy beard, horns, all red.

I realized that Exu looked a lot like Pan. It's said that the modern image of the devil was a result of medieval Italian farmers plowing up old statuettes of Pan, becoming frightened, calling the parish priest who would then associate this horned, goat-footed idol with the devil. I don't know if this story is true, but the resemblance of Pan to images of the devil are undeniable. It pleased me to think that the visual image of Pan migrated to the visual image of the devil who then migrated to Exu, a god that was exported from Nigeria in the holds of Portuguese slave ships. It seemed to me that although Pan and Exu were too very different deities, they had a certain mysterious connection over space and time. (I also liked that they both have three letters in their names.)


A cover idea featuring art by Ike Morgan

So Exu it was. (Exu is pronounced "EY-shoo", by the way). My next task was to pick artists. I knew I wanted the art to be native 2-D art. No three-dimensional art (so no sculpture or installation) and no time-based art (so no film or video or performance). I wanted the transition from artwork to printed page to be as seamless and uncompromised as possible. But the world of 2-D art contains multitudes. The artists I chose had to be familiar to me. It would have been easy for me to simply pick my friends, but I wanted there to be an identifiable editorial vision here. Also, I wanted to pick artists from a variety of genres, styles, schools, media, etc. Many of these artists are unlikely to have ever met one-another, but here in Exu, they can share a space. I want Exu to be a kind of secular artistic sacra conversazione.

So we have street art next to "outsider" art next to MFA art. There's painting, drawing, printmaking and photography. I worked hard at being aware of various artistic traditions and looking at all of them. I'm haunted by the notion that there are great artists out there who I just don't know about. And there were people I wanted to include but for various reasons could not--I couldn't find a way to communicate with them, we couldn't agree on of piece to publish, or most often I just lost the thread as I got busy with other artists.

In the end, here's who is in Exu: Trenton Doyle Hancock, Kelly Alison, Seth Alverson, Debra Barrera, JooYoung Choi, Jamal Cyrus, Bill Daniel, Nicky Davis, Nathaniel Donnett, Matthew Guest, the Amazing Hancock Brothers, Hillerbrand+Magsamen, Perry House, John Hovig, Galina Kurlat, Emily Peacock, Fernando Ramirez, Sophie Roach, Christopher Sperandio, Jason Villegas and Inés Estrada. These are the writers I've included: Great God Pan Is Dead veteran Dean Liscum, Pete Gershon, John Nova Lomax, Jim Pirtle and a piece by the late, great Sig Byrd. And Exu includes the following cartoonists: Mack White, Scott Gilbert, Sarah Welch and Brett Hollis. And the cover is by Ike Morgan. Most of these artists are located in Houston and vicinity, with some from San Antonio, Austin, Waco and DFW (and two expatriate Houstonians in New York).

I'm running an Indiegogo campaign for Exu right now. The purpose is not so much to raise money (even though money is nice!) but to pre-sell copies. Please take a look. And scroll down to see some of the art that will be featured, much larger and in higher resolution, in Exu.



Seth Alverson



Nathaniel Donnett


Fernando Ramirez


Scott Gilbert


the Amazing Hancock Brothers


Hillerbrand+Magsamen


Galina Kurlat


Ike Morgan


Emily Peacock

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Report from the Golden Age of Art Comics: Kuš!

Robert Boyd


Renata Gąsiorowska, Jungle Night (Mini Kuš! #21) cover, November 2013

Latvia is a tiny Baltic state, intermittently independent but historically claimed by nearby states like Poland, Lithuania, Germany and Russia. It was an unwilling part of the Soviet Union until 1991. There are about two million Latvians. When you think of European culture (much less world culture), Latvia must be counted as on the fringe. Of the top of my head, I can't think of any prominent Latvian artists, writers or composers, living or dead.

But as someone who lives in Houston, I have no choice but to believe that culture can pop up anywhere at any time. (Otherwise I'd be forced to move.) The Latvian capital, Riga, is not large but it is old and has a cultural history. In the era of the internet, of Fedex and DSL, of jet travel and high-speed trains, no European country can be truly isolated.

So the fact that Kuš! Komiksi, an international comics publishing house, is headquartered in Riga is slightly surprising but also comforting. They publish cutting edge work by Latvian and international cartoonists. The work is published in English, which is both excellent (it means I can read it) and a little disturbing. One must conclude that they wouldn't be satisfied trying to reach the two million or so readers of Lettish. But English is a colonizing language.


Clockwise from top left: Dace Sietiņa, Bobis (Mini Kuš! #9), September 2012; Mari Ahokoivu, Otso (Mini Kuš! #10), January 2013; Maciej Sieńczyk, Historyki (Mini Kuš! #12), January 2013; Emmi Valva, All You Need Is Love (Mini Kuš! #11), January 2013

Mini Kuš! is a series of tiny comics (4" x 5 3/4" trim size), each given to a single artist. They're beautifully produced objects. They share a common design on the covers but otherwise are quite distinct. They art reproduced in beautifully reproduced in color. The artists are international--for example, Dace Sietiņa is from the Netherlands, Mari Ahokoivu is Finnish, Maciej Sieńczyk is a Polish artist and Emmi Valva is also from Finland.


Renata Gąsiorowska, Jungle Night (Mini Kuš! #21) pages 2 and 3, November 2013

Renata Gąsiorowska, an artist from Poland, tells an updated animal fable in Jungle Night. In the protagonist's world, Jungle Night is a night when the adolescent animals spend the night in the jungle in order to return to their roots. Of course it's actually an excuse for partying. But somehow, our heroine has an urge to go deep into the jungle and really experience life as it was lived so long ago.

The art is beautiful, and one thing that distinguishes it from typical comics art is that the physicality of the paper is not denied. You can see from the pages above that Gąsiorowska allows the warping of the paper from her watercolors to become part of the art itself.


Clockwise from top left: Inés Estrada, Borrowed Tails (Mini Kuš! #17), August 2013; Michael Jordan, This No Place to Stay (Mini Kuš! #18), November 2013; Jean de Wet, Crater Lake (Mini Kuš! #20), November 2013; Berliac, Inverso (Mini Kuš! #19), November 2013

 (Inés Estrada is a Mexican cartoonist. Michael Jordan is from Germany and has nothing to do with the basketball player. Berliac is an Argentinian artist currently living in Norway. Jean de Wet is from South Africa.)


Michael Jordan, This No Place to Stay (Mini Kuš! #18) pp. 10 and 11, November 2013

Michael Jordan's Mini Kuš!, This No Place to Stay [sic] is described as "semi-fictional, semi-autobiographical." It has the feeling of a dream, an anxious dream about being in a hospital and feeling vaguely threatened by the environment. The writing is interesting--it's English, but English as written by someone with imperfect knowledge. Typically, the English in the Mini Kuš!series is perfectly adequate. But in This No Place to Stay, the occasional error or awkward English adds to the feeling of alienation and dread experienced by the bearded protagonist, as does the bilious mostly-monochromatic color scheme.



Clockwise from top left: Amanda Baeza, Our Library (Mini Kuš! #13), January 2013; Tiina Lehikoinen, The Pernicious Kiss (Mini Kuš! #14), August 2013; Emelie Östergren, Runaway Dog (Mini Kuš! #16), August 2013; Heta Bilaletdin, Hideous Fiesta (Mini Kuš! #19), August 2013

(Originally from Chile, Amanda Baeza lives in Lisbon, Portugal. Tiina Lehikoinen and Heta Bilaletdin are from Finland. Emelie Östergren lives and works in Stockholm, Sweden.)

Most (but not all) of the artists in these 13 Mini Kuš! volumes are from the eastern side of Northern Europe, except for a few. Curiously, none are Latvians. (Some of the earlier volumes featured Latvian cartoonists, though.) What this tells me is that Kuš! Komiksi is a very unnationalistic operation. Furthermore, it suggests that the primary creative work is editorial, or to use a popular modern word, it's curatorial. They don't just publish--they host comics events and residencies. Kuš! is an art institution in addition to being a publisher. Given the diminishment of paper publishing in this electronic world, this may be a model for publishers of art comics in the future.

But it is still important to pay for these things. Heta Bilaletdin's Hideous Fiesta, for example, was supported in part by FILI, the Finnish Literature Exchange, an organization that promotes the translation and publication of Finnish literature abroad. Kuš! Komiksi get some support from the State Culture Capital Foundation of Latvia and other governmental organizations from Latvia, Finland and the EU. But they also earn money by selling the published works and they aren't above a little begging on their website.


Heta Bilaletdin, Hideous Fiesta (Mini Kuš! #19) pp. 4-5, August 2013

Hideous Fiesta depicts episodic scenes from a party, particularly as seen from the point of view of an older guest who has been invited and is shocked by the party-goers cynical view of the recent death of a politician. Bilaletdin depicts the party with a combination of drawing and collage, which seems just right for the subject matter. 

So far Kuš! has published 15 volumes of their anthology š! and 21 volumes of Mini Kuš!. Some of the early volumes are sold out, but all the available ones can be easily purchased from Kuš! Komiksi's web store.