Double Manifestation - Artishock Magazine

Note Written by Me - https://artishockrevista.com/2024/09/12/doble-manifestacion/?fbclid=PAZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAaY0Iclf9OTZCdz2YuG9y0F-kIeXJcUeyznoHahyHy3O93I4BSd0LcYZrjM_aem_NVl3BSDujpSqo-lf2Y4vtA

Text in English below:

DOUBLE MANIFESTATION

Starting June 14, MALBA presents the exhibition Manifestación by the duo Mondongo, composed of Juliana Laffitte and Manuel Mendanha, a tribute to the great artist from Rosario, Antonio Berni, ninety years after the creation of one of his iconic works, which is also a central piece in Argentine art of the 20th century.

This is the first time the museum has invited artists to engage in a dialogue with works from its collection, making Berni's piece available to them, not only to reinterpret but also to exhibit alongside their own pieces. In the words of the artists, Antonio Berni was a great influence who opened the doors for them to work with new materials in painting. Berni advocated for an art deeply committed to the social issues of his time, emphasizing the idea that in the face of an overwhelming reality that cannot be ignored, "artists must keep their eyes wide open." Mondongo takes up this approach to reignite critical debates about the city as a symbol of modernity and progress.

The work by Mondongo that dialogues with Manifestación is a monumental piece weighing 120 kilos. It is a three-dimensional painting made of plasticine, nearly three meters wide and two meters tall, contained within a box that simulates the frame of the original. Unlike Berni, who used newspaper images to construct his vision of protesters, Juliana and Manuel used friends and relatives from different social classes and ages, including themselves, a recurring theme in their work.

In a pre-installation to the main room, there is another representation of Ernesto de la Cárcova's work Sin pan y sin trabajo (No bread, no work, 1884), which dialogues with the banner that reads "Pan y trabajo" (Bread and work), included by Berni in his 1934 piece. While Berni's scene takes place in the Refinería neighborhood of Rosario, Mondongo's composition is set in the streets surrounding Plaza de Mayo, an iconic site for demonstrations in Argentina.

The connection between these two works is reinforced by the presence of a third piece: Villa II, in which the duo employs the classical circular tondo format to depict the slum neighborhoods characteristic of the Global South. Through these interventions, the artists aim to contribute to a genealogical review of how Argentine art has represented excluded communities and social protest.

The installation accompanying the exhibition was undoubtedly the centerpiece, generating discomfort and numerous discussions, even accusations that Juliana and Manuel were "romanticizing poverty." This site-specific work focuses on the precarious housing settlements that emerged in Argentina from the second half of the 20th century, which have significantly multiplied in recent decades due to various economic crises.

Before analyzing this issue, I find it essential to revisit some concepts from Arthur Danto's The End of Art, where he explores how contemporary art has challenged the boundaries of what is traditional and acceptable, suggesting that art has reached a point where the conceptual and provocative are essential to its evolution. Danto argues that with the advent of contemporary art, we have entered a post-historical phase. This phase is characterized by the disappearance of a "master narrative" or a dominant theory defining what art should be.

The installation is a prototype of a humble house that clearly does not faithfully reflect an actual modest dwelling or slum. The artists attempted to recreate a situation reminiscent of the environment in which Antonio Berni lived in his neighborhood. Perhaps this clarification should have been included in the curatorial text to avoid misunderstandings.

Various critiques have pointed out that this work "romanticizes" poverty, but it is challenging to claim this at a time when poverty has increased by more than 15% in the last six months in Argentina, and where the state is not only ineffective but also violent. However, this does not mean that we should attack art or adopt a punitive attitude. This humble house prototype is a way to bring attention to and expose the harsh reality faced by many people worldwide, not just in Argentina. It particularly seeks to expose this simulation of reality to a small segment of our population that consumes art but may not fully understand what poverty means or the implications of being poor. Many of us, myself included, despite not belonging to the upper class, have also never had true contact with a modest home like the one Mondongo attempts to recreate in the heart of one of the country's most important museums, owned by one of Argentina's wealthiest individuals and located in one of the city's most affluent neighborhoods.

My reflections focus on two questions: why can't poverty be represented? Or better yet, how should poverty be represented? The first question suggests that we have returned to a Renaissance-like era where there is an implicit list of what art can or cannot depict and how it should respond to current issues. In times of crisis, many in Buenos Aires' artistic circles consider it inappropriate to create an installation that emulates a slum in a private museum. However, it is easier to adopt a punitive stance and accuse the romanticization of poverty than to question why the work provokes so much discomfort and rejection.

For those unfamiliar with Mondongo's work, their pieces often have an acidic tone, almost dark humor, depicting social realities and situations. This is clearly evident in this exhibition. I don't believe the artists are romanticizing poverty but rather presenting it. Reviewing a work by Antonio Berni from 90 years ago, which reflects situations similar to those we live in today in 2024, is a self-explanatory analogy and, unfortunately, a reality that persists.

This is where Mondongo's magic emerges: bringing one "reality" closer to those who live in another "reality" and who almost always ignore poverty. This is the acidic effect of art: hacking the matrix where it was never thought possible. In this way, Argentina's elite and the museum's foreign visitors are confronted with an alien "reality," generating an emotional impact that may or may not foster empathy toward the most vulnerable sectors.