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SOBREELMURO/OVERTHEWALL PORTLAND/HAVANA MARCH/2012

Sobre El Muro (c) 2012 Contributors: Samuel Ashman Drew Lenihan Anna Daggett Participants: Samuel Ashman Drew Lenihan Spencer Byrne-Seres Matt Mulligan Taylor Wallau Tim Howe Karen Taylor Maria Boyer Kati Haas Anna Daggett Miranda Lancaster-Moore Samir Bernárdez Cabrera Héctor Remedios Fernández Yadniel Padrón Aguilera Nora Ochoa González Martha Julia Borrell Catalá Linet Sanchez Fernándo Reyna Adrián Curbelo Advisor: Elliott Young Edited by: Spencer Byrne-Seres Samuel Ashman Drew Lenihan Design: Spencer Byrne-Seres Printed by: Publication Studio Portland, OR

Preface Written by: Samuel Ashman

Inspirado por los trasfondos políticos de mucho del arte en la Oncena Bienal de La Habana, Sobre el Muro es un proyecto dirigido a mostrar la capacidad de un discurso valioso a través de culturas a pesar del desacuerdo entre Cuba y los Estados Unidos. En marzo de 2012, un grupo diverso de 11 estudiantes universitarios de Lewis & Clark College representando cada uno de los cuatro años y ocho distintas carreras, viajaron a la Habana para establecer un intercambio de culturas entre artistas cubanos y estudiantes de arte. En Cuba, los estudiantes se reunieron con artistas que estaban involucrados en un proyecto colateral de la Bienal llamado, “Detrás del Muro.” Detrás del Muro llevó la obra de 25 artistas al paseo simbólico de la Habana, el malecón. Mientras que la mayoría de los artistas eran cubanos, habían artistas de varios lugares y perspectivas incluyendo Colombia, Puerto Rico, España, y la diáspora cubana. Cargado de importancia cultural, el malecón es un lugar arquetípico para el arte público. Uno podría decir que es el lugar más visitado en la ciudad tanto por extranjeros como habaneros igualmente. Sin embargo, más que un lugar de encuentro o un buen sitio para sacar fotos, el malecón está lleno de simbolismo. Al trazar la frontera de la isla, el malecón es tanto un límite físico como un recuerdo del límite de lo que Cuba le puede ofrecer a su población. Para mucha de la gente entonces, el malecón es el lugar de desempeño para preguntas sobre otros gobiernos y culturas, preguntas sobre lo que hay detrás del muro. Detrás del Muro acentúa la dualidad que tiene el malecón como símbolo cultural y de limitación. Todas las piezas, menos una, fueron diseñadas específicamente para el sitio. La pieza de Arlés del Río, “Fly Away,” consiste en la silueta de un avión en una alambrada. Sólo se puede ver la silueta con bastante espacio entre el espectador y la obra, y un espacio abierto detrás de ella. Así, Del Río usa y se incorpora a la escala del sitio en la pieza con eficacia. Al otro lado de la avenida, Adonis Flores aprovecha un andamio que ha sido puesto para apoyar un antiguo edificio. Esto se ve mucho en la Habana ya que los edificios que no pueden ser restaurados por razones de recursos

Inspired by the political undertones of much of the artwork in the Eleventh Havana Biennial, Sobre el Muro is a project aimed at demonstrating the capacity for valuable cross-cultural discourse despite political dissidence between Cuba and the United States. In March of 2012, a diverse group of 11 Lewis & Clark undergraduate students from eight different majors and all four class years, traveled to Havana in order to establish a cultural exchange with Cuban artists and art students. In Cuba, students met with artists involved in a public art project in the Biennial entitled “Detrás del Muro” (Behind the Wall). Detrás del Muro brought the work of 25 artists to Havana’s symbolic seawall, the malecón. While the artists were predominately Cuban, the project involved artists from various places and perspectives including Columbia, Puerto Rico, Spain, and the Cuban Diaspora. Laden with cultural significance, the malecón is an archetypal venue for public art. It is arguably the most frequented place in the city by locals and foreigners alike. But other than a meeting place or the site of many photo opportunities, the malecón is rich in symbolism. Tracing the island’s border, the malecón serves as a physical limit as well as a reminder of the limit to what Cuba has to offer its populace. For many, the malecón is thus the jumping off point for questions about other governments and cultures, questions into what lies behind the wall. Detrás del Muro accents the duality of the malecón as both a cultural landmark and a symbol of restraint. Save for one work, all of the pieces in the project were designed specifically for the site. Arlés Del Río’s piece, “Fly Away,” is the silhouette of an airplane cut into a chain link fence. The silhouette is only visible with sufficient space between the viewer and the work, and an open space behind it. As such, Del Río effectively relies upon and incorporates the scale of the site into his piece. Across the street, Adonis Flores takes advantage of a scaffold installed to support a deteriorating building. This is a common sight in Havana, as many buildings that cannot be repaired due to a lack of resources are supported to prevent collapse. Mounted on the scaffolding in Flores’ piece are flattened pieces of rusted metal spell-

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“Fe” by Adonis Flores

“Fly Away” by Arlés del Río

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están apoyados ante de que se derrumben. Para su pieza, Flores montó pedazos de metal aplanados y oxidados en el andamio en los cuales se escribe la palabra ‘Fe.’ Mientras que ‘Fe’ es la denominación química para el hierro, en español la palabra también significa el concepto mismo de fe. Por lo tanto, la pieza sugiere que si recursos como el hierro siguieran siendo disponibles, es más una cuestión de fe. Ambas piezas de Del Río y Flores pueden ser interpretadas como obras de disidencia política. Pero si uno le pregunta a los artistas si tienen intenciones polémicas, no simplificarían la obra a una crítica del gobierno. Mientras que “Fly Away” puede ser leída como un adelantamiento a deseos de irse de la isla, para Del Río la pieza es más un lugar donde se puede escapar del perjuicio; no tiene necesariamente, un mensaje político. Flores también mantiene que su pieza es polisémica. Por eso parece que estas obras no sólo ofrezcan una crítica política, sino que están dirigidos a interactuar con los que pasan por el malecón. Sin embargo, por el interés que tienen tantos cubanos sobre el mundo detrás del malecón, las obras de Detrás del Muro seguramente evocarán preguntas sobre el gobierno y de sus relaciones internacionales. La obra de Del Río instiga al tema de tránsito y el deseo de viajar afuera de la isla. Por lo tanto, “Fly Away” puede ser entendido como un mandato para el poder de intercambiar con otras culturas, algo que la mayoría de los cubanos no pueden hacer por razones políticas. Motivado por arte tan vocal, los estudiantes de Lewis & Clark formaron pares con estudiantes del Instituto Superior de Arte de la Habana para crear obras de arte colaborativas con una voz compartida. A través del mutuo trabajo, cada par expresa un concepto hecho en colaboración a pesar de las diferencias de perspectiva. Así es que cada proyecto muestra la capacidad de un consenso aún las diferencias de origen. Algunos de los proyectos fueron concebidos y terminados en marzo, mientras que otros crecieron tras las semanas y meses que siguieron, promoviendo el intercambio de ideas y valores. Lo que resultó fueron obras de varios medios, pero con el mismo tema. Lo céntrico de cada proyecto es la idea que aunque hay

ing the word ‘Fe.’ While ‘Fe’ is the chemical designation for iron, in Spanish the word also means faith. Flores’ piece thus suggests that whether resources like iron will remain available, is a contingent matter of faith. Both del Río and Flores’ pieces can be interpreted as works of political dissent, but ask the artists whether their intentions are polemic and they are reluctant to reduce their work simply to a critique of government. While “Fly Away” can be read as encouraging desires to leave the island, for del Río the piece serves as a place to escape from all sorts of prejudice and does not necessarily carry a political commentary. Flores too insists that his piece is open to a variety of interpretations apart from those concerning political commentary. So it seems that these works aren’t meant to offer a political critique as much as they are aimed at interacting with those that visit the malecón. But because there is so much curiosity in Cuba regarding the world beyond the malecón, the works in Detrás del Muro are bound to evoke responses that involve the questioning of government and international relations. Del Río’s piece incites associations with transit and the desire to travel outside of the island. Therefore, “Fly Away” can be interpreted as a call for the freedom to interface with other cultures, something that most Cubans are denied for political reasons. Motivated by such vocal artwork, Lewis & Clark students formed pairs with students at Havana’s Instituto Superior de Arte in order to create collaborative works of art with a shared voice. In working together each pair expresses a concept developed cooperatively in spite of differences in perspective. Each project thereby demonstrates the potential for consensus apart from differences in background. Some of the projects were conceived and completed in March, while others developed over the weeks and months that followed, furthering the exchange of ideas and values. What resulted were works of art from a wide range of media, but with a common theme. Central to each project is the idea that although there are barriers between the people of Cuba and the United States, there is room for fruitful social discourse. Sobre el Muro brings attention to this space for substantive cultural exchange while stressing its

un bloqueo entre la gente cubana y la gente estadounidense, existe un espacio para un discurso social. Sobre el Muro llama la atención a este espacio de intercambio social con sustancia mientras que indica la importancia de ello en la comunidad global. Las obras en Sobre el Muro elaboran el motivo de Detrás del Muro; un muro físico sirve como una metáfora para barreras más abstractas. EL muro al que se refiere Sobre el Muro es el que está en contra de colaboraciones como estas. Desde la falta de diplomacia entre Cuba y los Estados Unidos sigue una falta de intercambio social. Sin embargo, las obras de Sobre el Muro representan relaciones interpersonales fuertes que crecen a pesar de las barreras políticas. Aquí, arte es el barco donde se pueden juntar dos culturas que de otra manera hubieran estado apartadas. El arte sobrepasa la división física entre cada artista por crear un espacio donde la colaboración puede seguir existiendo. Las obras fueron concebidas en Cuba y exhibidas en los Estados Unidos para que sean contempladas desde ambos lados del muro.

importance in the global the community. The works in the exhibit elaborate upon the motif in Detrás del Muro of a physical wall serving as a metaphor for more abstract barriers. Literally, “Sobre el Muro” translates to “on top of the wall.” However, it could also be taken to mean “over the wall,” or even, “about the wall.” Like many of the works in Detrás del Muro, the title “Sobre el Muro” is open to various interpretations. But what is consistent in each of these interpretations is the presence and significance of a barrier. The wall under consideration in Sobre el Muro is that which keeps collaborations like this one from taking place. From the lack of diplomacy between Cuba and the United States follows a lack of social intercourse. However, the pieces in this exhibit represent fulfilling interpersonal relationships that developed in spite of political barriers. Here, artwork is the vessel for crosscultural intercourse between two cultures that are otherwise kept at a distance. The artwork thus transgresses the physical divide between each artist by creating a space where the collaboration continues to exist. The works were conceived in Cuba and are exhibited in the United States in order to be contemplated from both sides of the wall.

Initital meeting between students from Lewis & Clark and the ISA

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The Exhibition/La Exhibición

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SOMEWHERE BETWEEN IDENTITY AND PLACE: a testament to new dialogues in SOBRE EL MURO By Drew Lenihan

Havana and Portland are two cities in the Americas that appear on the surface to be a world apart; one tropical, sunny, with the heir of a lost identity in a struggle of colonial, communist and contemporary idiosyncrasies; the latter, rainy and hidden in the forests of the northwest, in a constant flux to define and redefine itself, an amalgamation of pastiche individualism. While vastly different in geography, climate and language, the two cities share a certain daring vibrancy in their permissive tolerance for the arts and their acceptance of collective, vanguard-driven art and radical self-expression. Both cities seem to push and redraw the boundaries of what can constitute art and this definition is pragmatically played out in a public, shared experience. In Havana, as Cuban artist Duvier Del Dago once told me, citizens approach art with a more critical eye than he has seen in other parts of the world and interact with the work poetically, intimately trying to extract its deepest meaning and metaphor and apply it to their own human condition. On the Havana streets or the malecon, the historically and culturally charged seafront promenade, you will find Cubans discussing the arts openly amongst each other, be it a frustrating conversation about government censored hip-hop group los aldeanos or collectively lending critical eyes to the newest work from Cuban rock star artist Kcho. Similarly in Portland, this social democratization of art occurs with hipsters passionately discussing the influence of artist Donald Judd outside of a cafe or groups of artists assembling to manifest their creative energy in the PICA’s Time Based Art Festival. Essentially, both cities have the grand and often mysterious potential to organically produce creative minds, and subsequently, a visual creative dialogue amongst its own citizens. It therefore seemed appropriate, if not completely necessary to bring young emerging artists and minds from theses two artistic havens together through the project you now hold in your hand, Sobre el Muro or as its translated from the Spanish, Upon the Wall. Student-artists from the Instituto Superior de Arte, the premier art university in Cuba and Lewis & Clark College, a small liberal arts

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Attendees viewing Bichito de Luz, a documentary about Detrás del Muro, a collateral project for the 11th Havana Biennial

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school in the hills of Portland came together to construct a theoretical foundation to promote artistic discourse between their countries and then to create art collectively as a means to overcome the structures and ideological differences that bar us from freely collaborating. The process towards the final projects you will see in this catalog had many barriers placed in its way; many muros or walls challenged the group to climb over and discover their own shared creative experience. Most notoriously, the American embargo against Cuban socialism, one of the most outdated and outwardly blind American foreign policies to date, had to be circumvented through the educational merit loophole found in American sanctions against Cuba. Education and art became our tools or in some interpretations, our excuses to build the boat to carry ideas and passions between two institutions of knowledge. This occurred during March of 2012 in the cupulas or dome shaped studio workshops of the ISA and around the city of Havana. Later, the project came to full fruition with an exposition at Lewis & Clark College’s Hoffman Gallery for two weeks the following August. Initially, fellow trip leader and curator Samuel Ashman and I thought that the scope of the artistic dialogue between young Cubans and Americans would primarily focus on the embargo that politically polarized the group of peers. Theoretically, the overarching goal of the project would be a transcendence of political ideology through whatever creative medium necessary. However, once we reached Cuba and as the projects evolved, it became evident that the politics did not manifest in the themes of the art. As we sat together upon the wall looking out towards both countries, critiquing the blind ignorance of the US’ foreign policy and the frozen iron fist of the Castro regime, we discussed the frustrations we had with our respective political landscape and then realized that this political quandary didn’t necessarily translate into art we were intending to nor the dialogue we sought to learn from. As we moved away from the politics, the dialogue we so desired resolved itself through the exercise in collaboration; it transformed into what passions we shared and how these passions or the anxieties that compelled us to make art manifested. Ultimately, the process of creating concepts and fulfilling these ideas through the objects you see was the conversation. Artists Kati Haas and Adrián Curbelo bonded over their

love of installation, sculpture and the principle of putting more emphasis on the process rather than the final object. Speaking to the process, they brought in more members of the collaborative group to partake in a dinner party where we were encouraged to eat, drink, talk, and sketch. Later these conversations and specific moment in time translated into their installation of a table cloth embroidered with drawings and texts from the dinner. More conventionally, others in the group embraced the differences between us rather than what we shared in common. Collaborators Taylor Wallau and Fernándo Reyna’s work addresses the difficulty of overcoming the language barrier between Cubans and Americans. As paraphrased from their artist statement: “We each chose books that were written in our native tongues that inspired our artistic processes and we attempted to alter the pages in a manner that transcends the written words and that may be associated with our respective homelands.” Thus the conclusive, visual dialogue of the work became more powerful and meaningful than a typical, verbal conversation about art could ever be. The artists were able to teach each other about what inspires them to make art, remarkably without the use of language. Therefore, they articulated their deepest understanding of what drives and inspires them in an alternative manner. In addition to the collaborative nature of helping each other upon the wall towards the final dialogue, the exercise was in the full sense of the word, self-reflective; the artist teaching the other while teaching themselves again why they made art in the first place. In terms of mere logistics, access to materials in Cuba challenged our creative spirit and one collaboration directly critiqued the significance of personal materials. The group, comprised of photographer Miranda LancasterMoore, artist Time Howe and Cuban artists Yadniel Padrón-Aguilera and Nora OchoaGonzález decided to use personal items they held most dear to them as their medium. By placing them in water and oil and shooting them with a macro lens on a digital camera, the group redefined the meaning of their personal affects while destroying the muro of accessibility of raw materials. This relinquishment of material illustrates a sacrifice for the sake Page 9

of art. The project also imagines a means to discover what each individual held dearest and ultimately to bring the four artists closer by assimilating each others material narratives. The final series of photos are warm, intimate, and have a sense of dreamy surrealism. If material, regardless of meaning, surrounds us, then art is omnipresent. The time we had to work in Cuba was limited and the most imposing parameter in the collaborative process. A collective passion to make the most of the time we had and to spontaneously create with what was momentarily at our disposal gave the projects the heir of arte pour le arte, a corner stone of modern art’s mentality. In other words, the participating artists became collaboratively passionate because the creative energy surrounded us as we emitted and communicated it to one another. Maria Boyer and Marta Borrell-Catalá, both relatively new to visual art and from musical backgrounds, used the collaboration as a way to push each other to experiment with new media and develop a series of paintings on paper. Said Boyer, “On one of our final days in Havana, Marta set me up in her studio floor with paper, an enormous array of paints, and an instruction to use only my hands (and feet, as I later employed) so that the art would be flowing as organically as possible from within us to the paper. In the work are the products of a human and artistic connection which transcended political, social, economic, border, ideological, and even linguistic boundaries. These are symbolic of elements of our personal freedom.” While transcending these boundaries, the two broke free into something experimental and taught each other freedom is not always clean, but messy and daring, something we must achieve by overcoming personal doubt or insecurity Their series of paintings on paper say to the viewer, art is not a landmark one arrives at, but a road that one travels, sometimes never knowing the final destination or place. Sobre el Muro started in Portland, emerged as a physicality and dialogue in Havana and then presented formally back in Portland. Convexly, our dialogues continue to grow through different lenses, one Ameri-

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can, one Cuban, and one as a shared understanding of combined viewpoints, media, and passion. The lens interchanges from one to another but the artist is free to return to their native lens, or modify it. Two artists directly confronted this. In Spencer Bryne-Seres and Héctor Remedios Fernández Standard Landscape, the viewer sees a time-lapsed video of sunsets from Havana and Portland. The same sun occasionally syncs together, evoking the notion that we are one, but also veers off. As they wrote in their artist statement, “Although the arc of both suns remains the same, the landscapes are blended, creating a visual and temporal space that represents the artists’ creative and collaborative process.” This process, this fantastical space, allows the artists to acknowledge their shared experience in the sun while seeing their own difference in context and then uniting to create their own spatial identities. Throughout and after this process, even right now, new dialogues, friendships and ideas are forming and they continue to evolve and manifest, regardless of idiom, media, or nationality. A new shared space, neither American nor Cuban yet both at the same time, is ultimately what Sobre el Muro created. It is an autonomous space and dialogue that redefines and mixes identities and places. Through the internet, verbally, through hand signals, the paintbrush, our gallery show, or this catalog, the project continues to broaden and enrich these autonomous spaces where artists are free to explore unknown dialogues in experimental ways. We are not bound to some fixed identity a government lays out for us, but explore and borrow these shared identities as we move through life. Sobre el Muro, in essence, was not some cliche cultural exchange that’s intention is to stress difference and then pick apart what separates us, but an experiment in acknowledging difference and moving forward towards a new conversation in what we can potential share and learn from each other. If we spend too much time taking down the wall, and no time figuring out how to build our own, then we’ll be stranded where this collaborative process began, as an idea floating through the air but sin lugar, to start the next dialogue.

THE WORKS/LAS OBRAS

Tim Howe, Bend, OR Miranda Lancaster-Moore, Denver, CO Nora Ochoa González, Camagüey, CU Yadniel Padrón Aguilera, Camagüey, CU Untitled Digital prints, 20”x24” Our distance is what initially separates us, but ultimately binds us. Without noticable difference we are blind to what similarities might be staring back. The items we hold dear, or even the items we hold because we must, become the landmarks that show our unique histories, but at the same time present themselves as emotional common ground.

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Héctor Remedios Fernández, Sancti Spíritus, CU Spencer Byrne-Seres, Santa Fe, NM Paisaje Estandar/Standard Landscape Video installation Paisaje Estandar/Standard Landscape is a collaborative project by Spencer ByrneSeres (USA) and Hector Remedio (Cuba). Footage was shot from two locations, one in Portland, OR and the other in Havana, Cuba on May 4th, 2012. The videos create a 6 hour continuous shot of the sun, viewed from two different locations; 3 hours of footage were shot at each location, beginning at 6:00 p.m. and ending at 9:00 p.m. Although the arc of both suns remains the same, the landscapes are blended, creating a visual and temporal space that represents the artists’ creative and collaborative process in producing the videos. Paisaje Estandar/Standard Landscape is part of a larger project between the two artists titles Dialogo/Dialogue. These collaborative works all focus on initiating dialogues through the investigation of commonalities concerned with meanings of place, time, synchronicity, and history.

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Paisaje Estandar/Standard Landscape Héctor Remedios Fernández and Spencer Byrne-Seres Installation views:

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Opposite and previous page: Samuel Ashman, Santa Fe, NM Samir Bernárdez Cabrera, Camagüey, CU Samir and I met for the first time in March of 2012 and tasked ourselves with producing a collaborative piece. Despite our differences in perspective we found that we have many similarities in opinion. This discovery was made over the course of our conversations in person and by other means after leaving Cuba. What is for certain is that Samir and I developed a meaningful inter-personal relationship. What is uncertain is how this relationship is quantified. Is it measured by the brief time we spent together, the emails we exchanged, the files we shared? There is an abstract wall between Samir and I that makes it difficult to identify in what our relationship consists. And on display is the contra-positive of that wall. Here, a concrete wall demonstrates the substance of our relationship. Only through the construction of the wall can the product be revealed.

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Matt Mulligan Untitled Archival digital prints La Habana breathes with a vitality frozen in time, as a mix of beauty and nostalgia leak from its seams. To exist within the city’s limits evokes an inspiration of creativity while simultaneously embracing one with the heat of the sun and the weight of political stagnation. This photographic series hopes to reflect the pace of cyclical existence and display the beauty of what it is to reminisce.

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Opposite: Taylor Wallau, Palo Alto, CA Fernando Reyna, Bayamo, CU Books, string, ink, oil and acrylic paint As human beings, we rely on verbal language as our main method of communication; we use words for everything, but they can also rapidly become one of the most significant barriers between individuals. While I was in Cuba, I was able to form a connection with a Cuban art student, Fernando Reyna, who does not speak any English. Although I studied Spanish in high school, my ability to communicate with a native speaker is limited, so we were forced to overcome the obstacle by improvising and finding other means of communication, such as visual language. Both Fernando and myself are passionate about literature and philosophy, in addition to the visual arts, and we have both experimented with incorporating language into our work. For our collaborative project, we decided that it would be appropriate to explore the relationship between language and visual media, by using books as the medium for our piece. We each chose books that were written in our native tongues, by authors that have inspired our artistic processes, and that may be associated with our respective homelands. Each book alteration portrays a unique reading and interpretation of the content. More importantly, we attempted to alter the pages in a manner that transcends the written words, because the viewers may not understand the language that is used by the original author. The result is intended to form a visual expression of ourselves and our experiences, which are unified by the process of our collaboration on this piece. Through visual art, even in its most basic element of mark making, we found that we are able to communicate something more abstract, and perhaps more essential than what we could explain using words.

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Papal Noise

Siempre

This was the first work I completed under the nose of my artist partner Martha. Several days into our stay in Havana, Pope Benedict (El Papa) made the first papal appearance in Cuba for well over 35 years. At this scene, I became intensely aware of the caucophony of simultaneously occurring sounds pouring out of Catholics and drunken agnostics alike, from the Cuban choir, drone airplanes, and screeching traffic. Overwhelmed by the profundity on many different levels, I immediately began constructing a work of music (I can’t truly call it a song) encompassing the aural and physical power and power I found riveting and palpable. This painting was my attempt at capturing the music I had been hearing on repeat in my head, unable to express while in Cuba, through paint on paper. This was an accomplishment I had previously thought impossible for me, but with Marta’s guidance, I feel I somewhat succeeded.

The culmination of my first day spent painting since I was too young to have enough self-doubt. Rooted in this is the theme of the power of joined forces, of joined hands. Through the claiming of one’s own power via the use of both of one’s hands, or through the meeting of minds and forces between different minds and bodies. Siempre, meaning “always” in Spanish, is one of my favorite words, phonetically and in simple meaning, in the Spanish language. Here I wanted to express the necessity and eternal nature of expression of the self through art, through music, all visual art forms, and the endless possibilities for their intersection.

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Maria Boyer, Raleigh, NC Martha Julia Borrell, Catalá, Las Tunas, CU Oil and acrylic paint on paper

No Wrong Side of the Tracks To create this, I used every facet of my bare hands and bare feet, particularly my clenched right fist, to create this. This speaks to a crossroads, an exodus, a disapora, a cultural exchange, immigration, emigration. Also brought to mind was the concept of animal migration, the tenacity of willing, biannual change of location for survival purposes, and the intense power of that. Animals know no national boundaries. Essentially, we all own the world, we are all residents of Earth, we all have much to give and give back.

Having never before considered myself a visual artist in any sense of the word and only a musician where “art” is concerned, the presentation and even mere existence of these works you see hanging here is monumental for me. This is a direct product of the exchange of ideas, confidence, encouragement, and inspiration between myself and the amazing Marta, my partner with whom I joined forces at the ISA. Marta, a passionate music lover and former piano student herself, connected with me sincerely over the invisibile limitations that exist between using a variety of artistic mediums to express, and the fear that can accompany breaking down the walls of taboo and the nervousness associated with imperfection. Through a tedious and beautiful process of communication using Spanish, English, hand signs, drawings, singing, and facial expressions, we began to build a connection, emotionally and artistically, of a sort I have never had the opportunity to build ever before. She forced me out of my protective bubble, encouraged me not only to just paint, but to paint the music that I hear in my head and that I compose, as she has been doing in her own way for years. On one of our final days in Havana, Marta set me up in her studio floor with paper, an enormous array of paints, and an instruction to use only my hands (an feet, as I later employed) so that the art would be flowing as organically as possible from within me to the paper. Before you are the products of a human and artistic connection which transcended political, social, economic, border, ideological, and even linguistic boundaries. Also, these are symbolic of an element of my personal freedom.

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Kati Haas, Sonoma, CA Adrián Curbelo, Camagüey, CU Untitled Embroidery, cloth, rice, plantains, beans, ceramic bowls

It starts with a dinner, continues with an offering. Connections and digestion. Remembering and creating. This is the present. How do we spread it in all directions? It is not the thing, it is the action. Empieza con una cena, continua con una oferta. Connecciones y digestión. Recordando y creando. Este es el presente. ¿Cómo lo extendemos en todas direcciónes? No es la cosa, es la acción.

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Below and reverse: Untitled Kati Haas, Sonoma, CA Adrián Curbelo, Camagüey, CU Installation views:

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Liberty of Movement in Havana and the Art Industry By

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G. Edward Ebanks, “Urbanization in Cuba,” PSC Discussion Papers Series (1998): 4. 2 3

Ebanks, “Urbanization in Cuba,” 4.

“Decree 217: Heightened control of internal movement,” last modified June 1999, Cubanet, http://www.cubanet.org/ ref/dis/09270201.htm

One of our most fundamental rights as humans is our right to movement. Our right to movement ensures our ability to fulfill our aspirations, to start anew, to return and raise a family, to make a better life for oneself or one’s family. Our history, our ancestry, is a heavy flow of migration, each generation moving anew, following their own dreams, sprouting, flowering, and eventually decaying, but knowing that the new generation carries on. The liberty of movement is a gateway to hope and to greater possibilities for the future. In conflict with human rights ideologies, many governments have established restrictions to migration, both internal and international. In Cuba, there are laws that prohibit Cubans from rural providences to move to Havana without the government’s permission. These restrictions block many Cuban citizens from the benefits of city life. When I first became interested in these ruralurban restrictions in Cuba, I assumed that in the art industry, it must be necessary to live in Havana because it is the economic center of Cuba. Foreign investment and interest in Cuban art occurs in Havana, and to live as an artist in Cuba, I thought that one must reside and do business in Havana. Thus, my inclination was that Cuban migratory restrictions must have an effect on aspiring artists. However, after speaking with several people that I met in Cuba, Elvia Rosa Castro, an art critic in Havana, and Linet Sanchez, an art student at the ISA (Instituto Superior de Arte), I have come to the conclusion that while living in Havana benefits artists, one does not have to live in Havana to be a successful artist and that rural-urban migration restrictions in Cuba can be overcome. Since the dawn of the Cuban revolution, governmental policies have slowed down rural to urban migration and have affected the growth of Havana. Some of the policies focused on equalizing urban and rural wages, while others restricted internal movement. In 1997, 74% of Cuba’s population lived in cities.2 According to the Population Refer-

Anna Daggett

ence Board in 1996, Cuba has a relatively low level of urbanization compared to other Latin American countries, such as Uruguay (90%), Argentina (87%), and Chile (86%).2 Cuba’s rate of urbanization since 1960 is the slowest in Latin America and the Caribbean; meaning governmental policies for curbing urbanization have been fairly effective. This could be due to many factors, but the rural-urban restrictions that Cuba has in place are probably a high contributor. The most prominent rural-urban restriction is Decree 217. Decree 217 is a law that created internal migratory regulations for Havana by requiring Cubans to obtain government permission before moving to Havana. Fidel Castro passed Decree 217 on April 22, 1997 and justified implementing this decree by stressing high rates of overcrowding and crime in Havana, as well as stressing ensuring the security of Cuba. The Committees for the Defense of the Revolution (CDRs), pro-government groups that are said to be “the eyes and ears of the revolution”, helped Castro to gather information on potentially illegal residents of Havana. Within a week of signing Decree 217 into law, the Cuban government deported around 1,600 “illegal” Havana residents and threatened many other residents with fines and the “obligation to return immediately to their place of origin.” Within a year, many more residents were deported, but the constant flow of incoming immigrants to Havana balanced this decline in the city’s population from deportations. In the end, the decree did not result in massive deportations, but the decree did and still does effect incoming migrants to Havana, who can not choose where to live and are confronted by the police with demands for papers and proof of legal residency.3 Decree 217 was passed just six years after the collapse of the Soviet Union, which resulted in a massive economic crisis for Cuba because the Soviet Union, as one of the largest socialist regimes world wide, was their major source of income and monetary Page 29

assistance. The Special Period (the period after the collapse of the Soviet Union) was a time of unprecedented economic hardship for Cuba. When I asked Elvia if she knew of Decree 217, she responded, “Of course I know the law. It was established in the Special Period as a consequence of the avalanche of people who came to the capital because it was easier to earn a living there…In Havana, there are homes in a miraculous static condition, in danger of collapsing, where more than twenty overcrowded people live, and they take turns to sleep. While one half sleeps, the other half sits on the Malecón. The crowding was the result of a huge population in a city that grew very little in urban and construction terms.” As is obvious from Elvia’s words, the infrastructure of Havana could not handle the swarms of people that have continued to move to the capital in hope of a better future. Decree 217 is still in effect today; however, it is hard to know if it is enforced well or if it continues to pose challenges for incoming migrants to Havana. While Decree 217 has been used often to deport or harass political dissidents, to keep overcrowding in the city under control, and to decrease crime rates in Havana, I was interested in how it affected aspiring artists. I have not had a sufficient amount of conversations and interviews with Cuban artists to make any firm conclusions. However, from the conversations that I have had, it seems that aspiring artists born in regions outside of Havana are largely unaffected by Decree 217 and other rural-urban migration restrictions. There are a number of things that enable Cuban artists to overcome migratory restrictions, such as Decree 217. Elvia and Linet both revealed that migration restrictions do not apply to students of any type of school. Linet, when speaking to if she had undergone any bureaucratic processes to move to Havana, clarified that it is not necessary to reside in the capital to study at the ISA, you just have to pass the entrance exams. She said, “People who don’t live in the capital live in the school’s residence. So I did not have to undergo any bureaucratic processes to live in Havana during my studies at the ISA.”

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The migration restrictions do not apply to students; however, they do present problems for artists interested in living and working in Havana after graduating. Elvia mentioned that the majority of artists that our group did studio visits with when we went to Cuba were not native “habaneros”, meaning they were not born in Havana. This indicates that many artists who have finished school and settled in Havana have overcome the restrictions set in place by Decree 217. While going to school, housing is not an issue. However, once graduated, students must register where they are living with the government, which can pose problems. As Elvia said, “In one way or another, the graduates of the ISA (Instituto del Superior de Arte) or other schools find ways to live in Havana, first with temporary addresses and other tricks. Now, with the sale of houses legalized, the problem is subdued. In my opinion, the artist that complains of being from another province, (besides Havana) and because of this, claims to not have the luck of an artist from Havana, is simplistic and lazy. The fact is that not living in Havana you have less information, less exchange of ideas, and less access to promotion. So then this artist is in disadvantage logically, because like in every country less developed or not developed, everything always happens in the capitals. But I always say that everything depends on the will of the creator, look, the person that I consider the best Cuban documentary film maker of the moment lived in Camaguey, his name is Gustavo Pérez, and is now doing a fellowship in New York. I have been writing since 1994 and I lived in Sancti Spíritus and already people knew me. He who has aspirations can come to Havana and he who is very talented could stay in Baracoa (an extremely isolated town on the Eastern tip of Cuba), and he would be known and recognized.” Elvia is saying that while living in the capital is an advantage, if you are a talented and driven artist, you will be recognized wherever you are producing art in Cuba. She emphasizes this by pointing out that many

4

Associated Press, “Cuba to Allow Thousands to Own Homes,” The New York Times, April 12, 2008.

artists (including her and Gustavo Perez) are from places outside of Havana and have been extremely successful in their careers, no matter where they reside. In conclusion, Decree 217 and other rural-urban migration restrictions have had a relatively minimal impact on aspiring artists. These migration restrictions are mostly aimed at keeping the serious overcrowding problem in Havana under control. In a 2008 New York Times article, they stated, “Cuba, which is home to 11.4 million people, suffers from a severe housing shortage. Officials say half a million additional homes are needed.” 4 This critical shortage and lack of new housing development ensures that the very poor areas of Havana are more subject to enforcement of Decree 217. For example, Elvia is from Sancti Spírtitus, a city in the middle of Cuba. She moved to Havana in 2000 and did not have to ask permission from the government to move because she moved to the “municipio plaza”, a more wealthy area of Havana. Decree 217 affects the poorer and overcrowded districts of Havana the most. Students and people that can afford to live and move to the wealthier districts in Havana are mostly not affected by Cuban migration restrictions. Overall, aspiring artists born outside of Havana have the ability to move to Havana to fulfill their artistic goals. As Elvia said, “Everything depends on the will of the creator.” If the will and determination and talent are there, bureaucratic procedures such as Decree 217 don’t stand a chance of blocking Cuban artists from their dreams. Students visiting with Jorge Fernández, director of the Wifredo Lam Center.

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Special thanks: Juan Delgado Calzadilla Elvia Rosa Castro Idalma Fontirroche Elliott Young Stuart Ashman Julia Portela Linda Tesner Kirsten Fix Marcia Lenihan Casey McManemin Maritza Urra Jorge Fernández Jorge Wellesley