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 Vallarta Living | Art Talk | June 2006 
Art on the Edge in Mexico City
 Julia Chaplin - NYTimes
| | Goth youths have turned a concrete building into U.T.A., a cafe and bar. (Adriana Zehbrauskas/NYTimes) |
How to cram in the Damien Hirst exhibition in an old converted mansion, the Ed Ruscha reception, a few more openings scattered at opposite ends of the crosstown traffic, and then go to a cinder block warehouse where the young art star, Miguel Calderón, would be showing off his new video of a snarling panther, all between 6 and 9 p.m.? It was a logistical challenge even for die-hards. And that wasn't even counting the dinners and parties afterward.
Such is life in the new Mexico City. A decade ago, such a heavy-hitting lineup of openings would have seemed incredible in a sprawling metropolis that is known more for its smog and crime — both of which are still omnipresent. But now the contemporary art scene has matured into one that's so firmly international that such art-studded evenings are par for the course. And frankly, it's a lot more fun than its counterparts in the northern art capitals like New York City and London. Mexico's love for the party means that the wine and tequila never run dry at openings, which often last three to four hours, not a sober two.
Earlier on this March afternoon at Condesa D.F., a boutique hotel overlooking the Parque España that is popular with the art crowd, some major players, fresh from the Armory Show in New York, relaxed in the vine-covered courtyard sipping cappuccinos and freshly squeezed fruit juice. There was Ella Cisneros, the Miami-based philanthropist and art collector; at another table sat Gabriel Orozco, one of the capital's best-known contemporary artists; at another, Mr. Calderón was entertaining Javier Peres, owner of the cutting-edge Peres Projects galleries; and at yet another sat a group of board members from the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles.
| | La Colección Jumex is in a factory building on the industrial outskirts of Mexico City. Such private collections, along with bold galleries, have created a lively art scene. (Adriana Zehbrauskas/NYTimes) |
Many of them had flown in for the annual bash at La Colección Jumex, a large private contemporary art collection owned by Eugenio López Alonso, the Grupo Jumex food-processing heir. The boozy social event, increasingly a stop on busy art world calendars, was being held that weekend at the sprawling grounds of the Jumex factory in the industrial outskirts of the city, followed by a wee-hours party at Mr. López's penthouse. (For those who didn't make the party, not to worry, La Colección Jumex is open to the public year round.)
Mexico City's contemporary art scene has flourished largely because of private collections like Mr. López's and a handful of forward-thinking galleries that have helped give local artists exposure at international art fairs, biennales and collections. For example, works from Galería Enrique Guerrero, Galería OMR and Kurimanzutto make the rounds at Art Basel, Frieze in London and Arco in Madrid. And they are collected by Mr. López, who is on the boards of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and the New Museum of Contemporary Art in New York City, adding cachet.
A great way to check out the art here is to hire a taxi and spend an afternoon gallery hopping. (It's safer to call for a cab than to hail one on the street.) Visitors scoping out the local talent can also indulge themselves on the city's architecture, an eye candy mixture of eras spanning Spanish colonial, Art Deco and slick contemporary.
At the Hilario Galguera gallery, newly opened in a fortresslike, century-old building, was Damien Hirst's gory new series "The Death of God — Towards a Better Understanding of Life Without God Aboard the Ship of Fools." He conceived the work at his part-time home in the Mexican surf town Troncones. Galería OMR was tucked behind the ornate iron gates of a mysterious Art Nouveau gem in the Roma district. A sun-filled courtyard led to soaring chambers with stark white walls, a warped wooden floor and regal French windows overlooking a verdant park where a group of uniformed schoolboys were having band practice.
Mexico City's extremes — its wealth and poverty, the tranquillity of its leafy parks and the sunburned chaos of its hectic avenues — are particularly conducive to its current edgy creativity. One can start an evening by dining at a guarded garden restaurant in the wealthy Polanco neighborhood and wind up at 3 a.m. at a seedy transvestite bar in the Centro Histórico. Mexico City's affluent seem willing, possibly as result of the trendiness of contemporary art, to embrace street culture in a way that was probably considered too dangerous, or déclassé, 20 years ago.
At the Jumex opening party, for example, many well-heeled attendees wore pressed jeans instead of designer dresses and suits. As a result, the Centro Histórico, the stomping ground of the younger, alternative artists, is an interesting part of town to spend time in right now. (These artists used to hang out in Condesa, but now with the eruption of sidewalk cafes and trendy boutiques there, many consider it too "fresa" — Mexican slang for yuppie or bourgeois.) The Centro, on the other hand, has a feel of fallen, dilapidated grandeur.
The hub of Spain's 17th-century colonial empire, the Centro is where some of the country's great cultural treasures are, such as the famously sinking baroque Metropolitan Cathedral, national museums with murals by José Clemente Orozco and Diego Rivera, and ornate palaces surrounding the leafy Zócalo, the city's main square.
But in the last half century, crime and vice became prevalent in the area, which was partly abandoned as businesses fled to newer, safer locations. Consider the video by the artist Francis Alÿs that's currently up at the Antiguo Colegio de San Ildefonso museum. Mr. Alÿs, a Belgian who has lived in the Centro Histórico for almost two decades, filmed himself walking through the area's cramped streets brandishing a pistol and timed how long it would take before he was stopped by the police. (The answer was 12 minutes.)
But all of that is changing. Four years ago, Carlos Slim, the Mexican telecommunications magnate and one of the world's richest men, initiated a grand renewal of the area, with hundreds of millions of dollars of private and government investment. He's bought up large chunks of real estate for restoration and development. Armed policemen now patrol the once dangerous corners, the cobblestone streets are kept tidy and swept, and kiosks with panic buttons are now a common site. (Which isn't to say there's no crime, there's just less of it in the guarded areas.)
Mr. Slim has encouraged the artists' migration to the area, opening a nonprofit cultural foundation that sponsors art projects in the Centro Histórico, and also lends recently acquired colonial apartment buildings, storefronts, warehouses and hotels to young artists at bargain rates, at least for the time being before renovations begin. Many artists worry that the Centro will be sanitized and that they will be booted in favor of "fresas" who will be able to afford higher rents.
All of which has given the place the feeling of a giant artists' squat. Stroll down San Jerónimo, and you'll see a whole street taken over by alternative galleries and cafes run by various youth collectives. One that was particularly amusing was called U.T.A. (an acronym that means Union of Anarchist Workers), where a group of Goth young people, wearing pounds of white makeup and fishnet stockings despite the midday sun, had transformed a red concrete building into a sort of clubhouse, cafe and bar with floors decorated with skulls, and waitresses dressed like sadomasochistic high priestesses.
"I love driving around downtown at night," said Mr. Calderón, the artist. "I love that it's really raw. It's a complete contrast. Some areas are like war zones and some are clean with surveillance."
At 2 a.m. on a Saturday at Hotel Virreyes, an 1940's hotel that is now one of the youth hostels where artists can rent rooms for $200 a month, it was like an art school dorm party but without the art school. The lobby furniture had been pushed aside to make a giant dance floor that was now mobbed with youths in black Converse sneakers drunkenly swaying to a D.J. spinning deafening electro-remixes. An elevator with glittery 1970's wallpaper had stopped working long ago and now served as a hang-out room. Revelers sipping beer sprawled over an old wooden counter that was once a stately front desk.
A five-minute cab ride away at La Perla, an authentic dive bar, a middle-aged D.J. was spinning popular songs from inside a giant oyster shell. Two transvestites were performing a floor show. The crowd was a mix of blue-collar workers, businessmen having affairs with secretaries and a few stray artists. After a day trolling galleries it was the perfect nightcap.
WHERE TO SEE THE ART
Mexico City's galleries and museums are scattered across the city, but don't worry if you're late to an opening because of the chronic traffic jams. They rarely end on time or run out of wine.
At the Galería Hilario Galguera (Francisco Pimental, 3; 52-55-5546-9001; www.galeriahilariogalguera.com), in the San Rafael district, don't be put off by the faux trails of blood on the floor. It's just part of the Damien Hirst show on view until August.
Kurimanzutto (52-55-5286-3059; Mazatlán 5, Depto T-6; www.kurimanzutto.com) carries the work of many of Mexico City's young art stars. Exhibits are held in temporary spaces (call for locations) such as Miguel Calderón's recent bad-attitude video and photography show in a cinderblock warehouse in Condesa.
In the upscale Polanco neighborhood, Galería Enrique Guerrero (Horacio 1549-A; 55-52-80-2941-5183; www.galeriaenriqueguerrero.com) has a roster of young talent including Yoshua Okon and Alejandra Echeverría. Closed Sunday.
A retrospective of work by Ed Ruscha was most recently at the Museo Rufino Tamayo (Chapultepec Park, 52-55-5286-6519; www.museotamayo.org), a modernist looking pyramid-like structure in the verdant park, which has an impressive permanent modern art collection including works by Miró, Dalí, Léger and Picasso. Closed Monday.
Among the courtyards and thick stone verandas of the Antiguo Colegio de San Ildefonso (Justo Sierra 16; 52-55-57-02-6378; www.sanildefonso.org.mx), a museum of Mexican art housed in an old baroque Spanish 1700's Jesuit school, are murals by Diego Rivera and José Clemente Orozco. Closed Monday.
It's worth trekking out to the ugly industrial outskirts of the city to check out La Colección Jumex (Km. 19.5, Carretera Libre Mexico-Pachuca, 52-55-57-75-8188; lacoleccionjumex.org), the largest private contemporary art collection in Latin America, with works by Jeff Koons, Andreas Gursky and Gabriel Orozco.
WHERE TO SEE THE ARTISTS
The Centro Histórico is the place to see the city's new generation of artists and musicians. In the late afternoon wander around San Jerónimo, a sleepy, tree-shaded street lined with alternative cafes and galleries such as U.T.A. (San Jerónimo, 21; no phone). At night Pasaguero (Motolinia 33; 52-55-12-66-24), a cafe and gallery in a renovated bank, is where the crowds gather for after-parties.
Hotel Virreyes (José Maria Izazaga 8; 52-55-21-41-80; www.hostalvirreyes.com.mx), a 1940's hotel that has been turned into subsidized artist lodging, has raging dance parties in the dilapidated Art Deco lobby. For a less hip scene, try La Perla (República de Cuba 44; 52-55-19-97-7695), an old dive bar with transvestite floor shows and a house D.J. who's probably been there as long as the bar.
WHERE TO STAY
Art world luminaries congregate at the Condesa D.F. (Avenida Veracruz, 102; 52-55-5241-2600, www.condesadf.com), in a converted 1920's French neo-Classical-style apartment building redesigned by India Mahdavi, in Condesa. Doubles from $165.
The Sheraton Centro Histórico Hotel (Avenida Juárez 70; 52-55-5130-5300; www.starwoodhotels.com), overlooking Alameda Park, has a slick design that references both glass high-rises and Indian heritage. Doubles from $162. |
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