Kuba

There were many exhibits at Reina Sofia I found interesting, and many more I thought, “That’s art? How is ‘a video of a guy drawing an ink picture while being wet with a garden hose’ art?” it was interesting that so many modern artists are choosing video as their medium.

A video I enjoyed was watching the artist draw on glass, as if I were the canvas. Several I was befuddled by involved American politicians: Nixon, Reagan, etc. A disturbingly powerful video was footage of atomic bombs, shown to the soundtrack of an old song from the ‘40s, singing about meeting again some sunny day, while on the screen ground zero glowed like the sun.

But the exhibit that really stuck with me, other than “Guernica,” was “Kuba.” (I can’t put the symbol above the “u.”) The artist lived in the shantytown, Kuba, (I think it’s in Cuba,) for several years. The citizens of it have formed a tight knit and enduring community. He interviewed many people and videoed their stories.

You walk into a room full of televisions, at least 30. Each one has a chair in front. Each set and each chair is unique. There is a kitchen chair, a lawn chair, an armchair, etc. And on each tv set is a different person, telling their story. I didn’t sit in a chair but I think you could.

It was fascinating, a modern and more personal version of what the old masters were conveying with “Market Day.”

I saw the story of a young man, who asked for leave from the army, thinking he would get the normal 20 days. He got six. So he stayed 20, thinking he would get a “Ha, ha, you bad boy.” and a slap on the wrist. Instead he got two years in prison, of which he served five months.

Another one was a girl whose family left the barrio. Her father had a coffee house with an apartment above. She hated it. She felt smothered, and kept running away.

Eventually her father gave up the coffee house and built another shack next to the first one. He lives in one; his wife lives in the other. The girl switches between.

She said something like, “ Out there are rules. Before you visit your neighbor you must call and ask. There are doors that shut people out. Here you are free. You can visit anyonek, any time. I can’t live out there; I can’t breathe.”

I wonder what stories Navasota could tell?