Lost in Paradise
Lost in Paradise
Carlos Rolón at the Cummer Museum of Art and Gardens
by Madeleine Peck Wagner
Carlos Rolón at the Cummer Museum of Art and Gardens
by Madeleine Peck Wagner
Carlos Rolón at the Cummer Museum of Art and Gardens
by Madeleine Peck Wagner
Response > Jacksonville, Florida
May 8th, 2019
Art institutions are among our most beloved bastions of colonialism. Public or private, the ostensible raison d’etre for most museums is one of presumptive public good. However, with their Wunderkammer roots, they inhabit the trophy realm: from the National Gallery’s display of Degas, which includes two of the priceless “Little Dancer Aged Fourteen” figures; to the Parthenon Marbles, currently housed in the British Museum (and not likely to be repatriated to Greece any time soon), these are displays of global power and conquest. They reinforce the position of the museum as a display of collections and objects as way the government can assert prestige and kind of historically supported legitimacy. This approach is beginning to change—even as museums mount blockbuster shows, so too many organizations are striving for a more transparent and nuanced approach to curation and to their collections. A part of that means mounting shows that take close and nuanced looks at the legacy of conquest and display.
“Lost in Paradise” a year-long exhibition of Chicago-based artist Carlos Rolón’s recent tile and mosaic works, curated by Aaron Levi Garvey, continues the artist’s ongoing dialogue concerning the effects of colonialism’s ruthless pursuit of wealth. Mounted at the Cummer Museum of Art and Gardens, in Jacksonville, Florida, it is located in the institution’s Weaver Sculpture Garden, a street-facing outdoor breezeway, where five works tread the line between material poignancy and narrative illustration.
Rolón, born in 1970 in Chicago, is lauded for his subversive and often craft-based use of materials. Thinking of his oeuvre, it’s possible that one might default to his function sculptures, including gleaming gold-plated low rider bicycles “Return of the Crown Prince (A Carriage for Haile Selassie),” (2011); or touch on “Boricua Sound System” (2014) a banana-seated huffy bike pulling a cart loaded with the contents of the family sound system, circa 1983, complete with altavoces tan grandes como tu tío. More recently there is the work “90 Years” (2018) an installation that acted as a silent witness to the destruction caused by Hurricane Maria (and by extension Irma). This work shows a wall-sized photo of a shell of a home, while piled in front of it were plastic chairs, blankets, a television, a painting, and other objects rendered useless by the storm and ongoing exposure. It was domesticity devoid of any of the seductive and decorative aspects that often signify Rolón’s work. And this omission, was a gaping visual wound serving to underscore the pain and terror of the storm, and the uncertainty that inevitably followed.
Response > Jacksonville, Florida
May 8th, 2019
Art institutions are among our most beloved bastions of colonialism. Public or private, the ostensible raison d’etre for most museums is one of presumptive public good. However, with their Wunderkammer roots, they inhabit the trophy realm: from the National Gallery’s display of Degas, which includes two of the priceless “Little Dancer Aged Fourteen” figures; to the Parthenon Marbles, currently housed in the British Museum (and not likely to be repatriated to Greece any time soon), these are displays of global power and conquest. They reinforce the position of the museum as a display of collections and objects as way the government can assert prestige and kind of historically supported legitimacy. This approach is beginning to change—even as museums mount blockbuster shows, so too many organizations are striving for a more transparent and nuanced approach to curation and to their collections. A part of that means mounting shows that take close and nuanced looks at the legacy of conquest and display.
“Lost in Paradise” a year-long exhibition of Chicago-based artist Carlos Rolón’s recent tile and mosaic works, curated by Aaron Levi Garvey, continues the artist’s ongoing dialogue concerning the effects of colonialism’s ruthless pursuit of wealth. Mounted at the Cummer Museum of Art and Gardens, in Jacksonville, Florida, it is located in the institution’s Weaver Sculpture Garden, a street-facing outdoor breezeway, where five works tread the line between material poignancy and narrative illustration.
Rolón, born in 1970 in Chicago, is lauded for his subversive and often craft-based use of materials. Thinking of his oeuvre, it’s possible that one might default to his function sculptures, including gleaming gold-plated low rider bicycles “Return of the Crown Prince (A Carriage for Haile Selassie),” (2011); or touch on “Boricua Sound System” (2014) a banana-seated huffy bike pulling a cart loaded with the contents of the family sound system, circa 1983, complete with altavoces tan grandes como tu tío. More recently there is the work “90 Years” (2018) an installation that acted as a silent witness to the destruction caused by Hurricane Maria (and by extension Irma). This work shows a wall-sized photo of a shell of a home, while piled in front of it were plastic chairs, blankets, a television, a painting, and other objects rendered useless by the storm and ongoing exposure. It was domesticity devoid of any of the seductive and decorative aspects that often signify Rolón’s work. And this omission, was a gaping visual wound serving to underscore the pain and terror of the storm, and the uncertainty that inevitably followed.
Carlos Rolón (American, b. 1970), Untitled (Lost in Paradise I), 2018, Cement tile on aluminum panel with food frame, 73 ¾” H x 55 ¾” W x 21 ⅛” D. Courtesy of the Artist and Salon 94, NY.
Carlos Rolón (American, b. 1970), Untitled, 2018, Cinder blocks, ceramic tile, artificial gold.
Courtesy of the Artist and Salon 94, NY.
In its specificity, “90 Years” recalled not just the storm’s destruction, but the destructive attitude of the U.S. towards the island of Puerto Rico. In this, it reflects the artist’s interest in creating pieces that are specific responses to place and context. “Whenever I create work for an exhibit, ninety percent of the time I create work specifically for the space, the surrounding area, what story it will tell, and the impact it will have on the viewer,” said the artist in our conversation about his work.
Though Rolón’s newer pieces veer away from the constructs of his earlier works, they thus address the Cummer Museum directly. The idea of Northeast Florida as home to the oldest city in America (St. Augustine) is one of this region’s best-loved, and most commercially exploited myths. St. Augustine’s economy relies heavily upon tourism, especially that which is centered around history and the beach. Located on the northern edge of the city, the Fountain of Youth’s rejuvenative waters burble for any that pay the fifteen dollar park entrance fee. It’s not a huge attraction, that is to say it is no rival to Disney, but Conquistadors, the Catholic church, and Spain are woven into place names and identity. In St. Augustine, there’s weird aesthetic tension created by the truly ancient buildings, the ones that adopt a Spanish-ish look (tile, stucco and stone); and, those that are either wholly corporate, or are simply pragmatic. But Rolón’s ongoing, diasporic-centric practice, reminds viewers that this theme—which finds purchase across Florida—is not without painful and problematic antecedents. Europeans didn’t just arrive on these shores and build something new, they used every brutal tool at their disposal to erect a version of Europe here.
“Lost in Paradise” is an outdoor exhibit in Florida, and the artist had to solve multiple problems, not the least of which is the very real possibility of hurricanes. He solved the issue of durability by sourcing techniques from homes built in Puerto Rico and South America and these techniques further tied the exhibition to the locale. Tiled, mirrored, and cemented works reflect the methods used by his and other families on the island to take a modest home and imbue it with beauty, grandeur and humor. This sleight-of-hand which transformed common materials into ideological gold also points to way to a refined lexicon that helps provide the language with which to talk about these difficult and culturally unarticulated things. As he reflected in our conversation, “My whole idea is to create a hybrid language that will create a new story and a new idea.” This notion of a hybridization of language is perhaps partially a way to disentangle history from myth by offering a contemporary object up as fodder for discussion. It also tacitly ties to conversations about cultural biases the museum itself is trying to tackle.
“Untitled,” a sculptural work made of stacked golden cinder blocks adorned with mosaics in the form of lush Monstera and Banana leaves, is a direct reference to gold plundered from Puerto Rico. It also might be the most controversial of the five works presented here, as the gesture towards a stolen mineral treasure also leads to memories of exploited human capital, and a land that is still neglected even as it is imagined a paradise by Americans. In our conversation, the artist cited mineral wealth that was taken from the commonwealth of Puerto Rico between 1508 through 1536. The figure is a staggering 4 million in Spanish bullion in 16th century figures; billions today. Enough to help a nation build an empire.
On multiple viewings, in addition to the allegorical weight of gold (actual weight: 28 grams per Avoirdupois ounce), “Untitled” also seems to carry a critique of a president* who would unironically gild his betowered home and then plan to build a wall upon America’s southernmost border in a gross and heavy-handed attempt to solve a problem that doesn’t actually exist. In so doing, it brings to mind the idea that America hates Mexico because it is privy to our darkest appetites, an explanation that could easily be expanded to include the entire Caribbean.
Seen out of the corner of the eye, “Untitled” gestures towards a pyramidal shape with “wall” or fortress-like undertones. Though Rolón’s stated discourse is primarily with Puerto Rico, these echoes of iterations are a part of the lineage of colonialism. So unsubtly exhibited by the current occupant of the Oval Office and his nationalist toadies, thus a golden pyramid seems to serve as a reminder of the literal greatness of a culture Trump and his ilk would vilify. In underscoring gold, but gold that is actually painted cinder blocks: heavy to make, heavy to ship, and gleefully absurd, the piece inhabits the liminal space between poetry and prank.
When I asked Rolón about “Untitled,” he focused specifically on the connection between Puerto Rico and Juan Ponce de Leon. In 1508, Ponce de Leon established the first gold mining operation on the northern coast of the island but left, and was ultimately killed, through his quest for the Fountain of Youth. “There’s this kind of long-lost tale, this pop culture tale of Ponce de Leon and the search for the Fountain of Youth which people don’t really know: When they were mining the minerals in the Caribbean and the Gulf of Mexico supposedly they [the indigenous peoples] told Ponce de Leon there was a Fountain of Youth, ‘to the north.’ He took it literally and got on a ship and landed in Florida, where he ultimately died. What they were trying to tell him, was there are natural hot springs in a part of Puerto Rico that people go to [for healing],” Rolón told me.
On multiple viewings, in addition to the allegorical weight of gold (actual weight: 28 grams per Avoirdupois ounce), “Untitled” also seems to carry a critique of a president* who would unironically gild his betowered home and then plan to build a wall upon America’s southernmost border in a gross and heavy-handed attempt to solve a problem that doesn’t actually exist. In so doing, it brings to mind the idea that America hates Mexico because it is privy to our darkest appetites, an explanation that could easily be expanded to include the entire Caribbean.
Seen out of the corner of the eye, “Untitled” gestures towards a pyramidal shape with “wall” or fortress-like undertones. Though Rolón’s stated discourse is primarily with Puerto Rico, these echoes of iterations are a part of the lineage of colonialism. So unsubtly exhibited by the current occupant of the Oval Office and his nationalist toadies, thus a golden pyramid seems to serve as a reminder of the literal greatness of a culture Trump and his ilk would vilify. In underscoring gold, but gold that is actually painted cinder blocks: heavy to make, heavy to ship, and gleefully absurd, the piece inhabits the liminal space between poetry and prank.
When I asked Rolón about “Untitled,” he focused specifically on the connection between Puerto Rico and Juan Ponce de Leon. In 1508, Ponce de Leon established the first gold mining operation on the northern coast of the island but left, and was ultimately killed, through his quest for the Fountain of Youth. “There’s this kind of long-lost tale, this pop culture tale of Ponce de Leon and the search for the Fountain of Youth which people don’t really know: When they were mining the minerals in the Caribbean and the Gulf of Mexico supposedly they [the indigenous peoples] told Ponce de Leon there was a Fountain of Youth, ‘to the north.’ He took it literally and got on a ship and landed in Florida, where he ultimately died. What they were trying to tell him, was there are natural hot springs in a part of Puerto Rico that people go to [for healing],” Rolón told me.
Carlos Rolón (American, b. 1970), Untitled (Home II), 2018, Porcelain tile and cement on aluminum panel with wood frame, 75 ⅜” H x 52 ⅗” W x 20 ¾” D. Courtesy of the Artist and Salon 94, NY.
Carlos Rolón (American, b. 1970), Untitled (Lost in Paradise II), 2018, Cement tile and hand cut mirror on aluminum panel with wood frame, 73 ¾” H x 55 ⅜” W x 21” D. Courtesy of the Artist and Salon 94, NY.
“Untitled” is Rolón’s first attempt to transform his body of work which deals with the mining of minerals. And to a certain extent, looking at “Untitled” feels like a maquette for something more massive and more complex. In that, it is successful as a non-specific point-of-departure for multiple modes of commentary. Also, as the artist has plans to revisit it over the course of its year on display, it will evolve in real time. Indeed, a visit saw the effects of weather and time on the “gold” in places it is turning greenish grey, in other places there is darkening and discoloration.
In terms of a relationship to the museum itself, the four tile works on display more directly intersect with the Cummer Museum’s collection: “Untitled 1-4” speak to the exchange and transfer of cultures: Moors, Sephardic Jews, Catholics and indigenous peoples encountering one another. The Cummer is an art museum, but has significant decorative holdings (the early Meissen collection leaps immediately to mind) that help make the argument for this suite of hybrid functional objects.
“Untitled (Lost Paradise II)” located at the northern end of the sculpture garden, is comprised of mirrored subway tiles and blue and white tiles that formally gesture towards a Spanish or Moorish influence, but in color recall Dutch Delftware. The fractured images of self that are reflected back to the viewer suggest the splintered nature of existing in multiple modes and multiple worlds—which although it is a huge generalization—can be read as the experience of those who don’t get to wholly take part in the dominant White or Anglo culture. culture. “I consider things that are inspiring, but are [often] things that are looked over because they are considered a part of a culture whose ideas aren’t looked at,” explains Rolón.
Exhibition is on view November 3, 2018-October 21, 2019
ABOUT THE WRITER
Madeleine Peck Wagner is an artist and writer based in Jacksonville, Florida. She has had a varied career, from Artist in Residence at a Trauma One hospital, to an editorship at the local alt-weekly. She has an MFA from the Savannah College of Art and Design and is currently working on large-scale drawings that reference myths, fashion, and the human form.
ABOUT THE MUSEUM
Founded in 1961, The Cummer Museum of Art and Gardens is located in Jacksonville, Florida. The permanent collection contains objects dating as far back as 2100 BC and as recent as the 21st century. The collection and grounds were donated to the museum following the death of their owner, Ninah Cummer.
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Carlos Rolón, also known as the pseudonym Dzine, is an American contemporary visual artist of Puerto Rican descent. Rolón's work has been shown at museums and galleries internationally, including the Bass Museum of Art, New Orleans Museum of Art, Museo de Arte de Ponce, the 2007 Venice Biennale, and Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago.
carlosrolon.com
RESPONSE
A feature of project reviews experienced in person. Response will provide artists with much needed critical response to their work. Response is opinion-based but is not an op-ed.