In 1987, the master of the peripheral arrived in Mexico
City with very concrete plans. As a young architect, he wanted to work in
a government project, on the reconstruction of the huge metropolis
following the great earthquake. He began exploring the city on foot: its
poverty, its masters of improvisation; he saw the buildings that had been
resecured with great effort, but only after having long since been
utilized as temporary shelters, and perhaps his decision to become an
artist was in response to these survival strategies. Alys once said that
he preferred to be a translator than a producer. These days, he primarily
translates elements of the living conditions in one of the so-called
threshold countries into impressive images and actions.
Ambulantes I, 1992 - 2002 80 slide carousel projection
Courtesy Lisson Gallery and the artist
To this
day he has retained a foreigner’s eye, the tourist who sees the special
and the poetic in everyday life. On his walks through the city, he uses
his camera to record dogs, people sleeping, living in the streets, or
taking a brief rest. His perspective always remains at eye level. The
images are less images of poverty than of contemplation. For another
series, he documented people in the act of transporting things. The
incredible towering constructions of cardboard or improvised wagons used
to carry the wares to the next market sometimes transport the entirety of
a person’s belongings.
When Faith Moves Mountains, Lima, Peru, April 11th, 2002
Video transferred to DVD, 15 min
Courtesy Galerie Peter Kilchmann, Zürich
Sometimes he directly involves people in his actions: for the communal
project When Belief
Moves Mountains(2002) in Lima, Alys won over 500 participants who
together moved a sand dune a tiny distance using nothing but shovels. In
contrast to
Santiago Sierra, contemporary art’s other great Mexican by choice, Alys
didn’t pay the participants in his absurd action with money, but with a
feeling of having been part of it all. And in contrast to the 1966-born
Spanish artist, his social criticism isn’t heavy-handed and provocative,
but light-footed and playful, with a refined sense of humor. And even if
the references are unmistakable, particularly in Mexico: on the occasion
of an election which was in his opinion corrupt, Alys used plastic
campaign posters to create ponchos and a pavilion reminiscent of the
improvised sleeping shelters of the homeless. In the film Patriotic
Stories (Multiplication of Sheep), the four-legged creatures cited in
the title can be seen being led around a flagpole on the Zócalo, Mexico
City’s central plaza. Each time they plod around, one sheep is added until
the circle is complete. In Mexico, people still remember that thousands of
civil servants expressed their protest in the late sixties by rebelliously
turning their backs to the government tribunes and bleating. And the art
scene understood the allusion perfectly when Alys was invited to
participate in the 2001
Venice Biennale and sent
peacocks in his place to strut through the Giardini at the opening
reception.
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Multiplication of Sheep, Mexico D.F., 1997,
Out of the series Cuentos Patrias, DVD
Courtesy Galerie Peter Kilchmann, Zurich
The
central Zócalo
plays a role in many of these works: here, Alys used a camera on a tripod
to film the flagpole and the people standing in a row in its shadow,
following the narrow strip like a sundial. On the other hand, the temporal
frameworks of Alys’ works are sometimes unlimited. It’s said that garbage
is filtered seven times in Mexico before it’s ultimately declared to be
garbage. Alys decided to test these mechanisms and threw seven identical
sculptures into the garbage in seven different locations around the city.
He’s been combing the flea markets in search of the small figures for
years, and has already found two of them. Another time, he constructed a
magnetic dog out of roller skates, car batteries, and sections of tin; it
can be taken out for a walk to gather up metal scraps.
Video Still from: Re-enactments, Mexico D.F., 2000,
Courtesy Galerie Peter Kilchmann, Zürich
Working with such concrete references, there’s always a fine line to
social kitsch. Perhaps this is why the works have to remain uncertain in
order to maintain the precarious balance between philosophical and social
orientation, between poetry and politics. As is the case with the firearm
work, Alys’ most dangerous action. For
Re-enactments (2000), he bought a Beretta in a weapons store, loaded
it, and went out for a walk with a slow, smooth pace, holding the weapon
casually at his side like a shopping bag. Eleven minutes passed until the
police overpowered him. Yet he wasn’t aiming for the spectacle. The next
day, he replayed the action in identical manner – with the full knowledge
of the police. Differences between the two films, which are shown next to
one another, cannot be detected.
VW Beetle , (Wolfsburg [D] 1938 - Puebla [MEX] 2003)
Photo: Joachim Ali Altschaffel, Wolfsburg April 2004
The exhibition ends here. There’s no exit, and so the visitor has to walk back
through the exhibition the other way around, trace his paths once again.
Outside, the decision seems natural to leave on foot instead of taking a
taxi to the train station.
Katrin Wittneven is art editor at
the German newspaper Tagesspiegel
as well as editor of the art magazine
Monopol. She lives and works in Berlin.
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