MD-22

The coffee here in Mexico is strong - and its effects are long-lasting! Our espresso-tonic was tasty, yet we both carried separate buzzes all day long.

Arif sets off exploring.

The pavement and the sidewalks are very damaged here, from the big earthquake in 1985. Where we are staying is in the middle of the hardest hit zone of CDMX - and it seems the most neglected. I twisted my ankle while navigating the cracks, momentarily distracted by some scene unfolding on the street, and thinking I should probably watch my step. The irony. Thankfully, it mended itself quickly.

While walking, I passed a blind man who was navigating this same treacherous walkway, tapping his cane in front of him, and I wondered how he managed such a feat on this terrain with holes and cracks that could easily swallow a foot or break a bone. Disjointed pavement slabs, huge drops from unusually high curbs - each footfall to be considered with care... it must be like navigating a minefield. We had wondered earlier about the curb cutouts for disability access; the sidewalks are truly un-navigable for anyone in a wheelchair.

A curb cutout on a narrow sidewalk punctuated with phone poles

Museo de Arte Moderno

The Museo de Arte Moderno was a short bus ride away. I'm still amazed how big CDMX is; a short bus ride is 30 minutes. As always, the studies in contrast are profound, in demographics, in wealth, in interest - truly parallel worlds.

Museo de Arte Moderno, CDMX

I have a real soft spot for the modernists. I love their utopian view of the world. They were on the trail of something very cool and harmonic. Maybe I'm a modernist at heart; I certainly bumped around this context growing up and was enchanted by the architecture of the International Style. Viva Modernismo!

The fibreglass cupolas cast a curious glow in the space

There was a huge variety of work on display across many floors, surrealists, figurists, social realists, abstract art, and sculpture inside and outside in the sculpture park – modernism is a big umbrella.

Remedios Varo

In my wanderings through this enchanting space, with so many beautiful works, I discovered the work of Remedios Varo.

María de los Remedios Alicia Rodriga Varo y Uranga was born... in Catalonia. Varo arrived in Mexico City in late 1941, part of a large migration of Spanish intellectuals and artists... The characters pictured in Varo's artwork resemble herself, with heart-shaped faces, long noses, and almond-shaped eyes... Her paintings, often depicting journeys and encounters with strange people, also reflect the frequent travel of her childhood and her traumatic experience of exile and war...Varo considered surrealism as an "expressive resting place within the limits of Cubism, and as a way of communicating the incommunicable"... Wikipedia
"La Huida" Remedios Varo 1961

I was curiously drawn to these works, and mistakenly assumed them to be the work of a male painter. I'm still not sure why. The first work, "La Huida," was hard to decipher but felt like it had some compelling narrative going on. An umbrella boat? The man making a sail with his cape? Were they floating on Clouds? Is that brown water gushing out of a cave? Are they going upstream? Her hand is on a fancifully strange and ineffective tiller, yet her wistful glance goes elsewhere.

Curious, and it turns out to be part of a triptych...

Toward the Tower, 1960; Embroidering the Earth’s Mantle, 1961; The Escape, 1961. Oil on hardboard. Museo de Arte Moderno.

Allegoric and autobiographical works that were made late in her life.

In order to understand the work of Remedios Varo we must know the formation she had since her childhood, and to understand these three works in particular it must be taken into account that Varo grew up influenced by the ideals of her parents. Her mother, who was a faithful Catholic, instilled in the painter to be a believer in religion, while her father as a free thinker and man of science led her down this path of reason... Triptych by Remedios Varo, Wikipedia

That offered a clue to why it may have resonated in particular... Sounds a lot like my mother and father - just slip muslim in for catholic, and omit the patriarchal encouragement. Prest-o Chang-o.

Other Things

There were far too many wonderful works to soak up...

Canto triste por Biafra, Gilberto Aceves Navarro. 5 panels, 1969

Arif and I returned completely exhausted after navigating CDMX crush hour.

What a trip and what a buzz.


As always, thanks for reading and indulging!
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