A different view The RISD Museum of Art explores the ‘Island Nations’ BY BILL RODRIGUEZ
	Reaching out The perspective of René Morales would have been good to check out for an exhibition such as "Island Nations" even if he’d been just an art historian looking up from tapping at his keyboard, working on his PhD. thesis. But Morales has put graduate school aside for a while, not able to pass up a job as curatorial assistant in the Contemporary Art Department at the RISD Museum of Art. In that capacity, he shared the challenge of putting together the show with curator Judith Tannenbaum, a task eased not only by his ready Spanish, but by his background and enthusiasm for the subject. Born in Cuba and settling in Miami with his family in 1980 when he was five, Morales had plans to become a medical doctor when he entered Swarthmore College as an undergraduate. But he got fascinated with art history, ending up with a double major in it along with psycho-biology. Morales went on toward becoming a doctor, but not the stethoscope and flu shots variety, as he got his master’s in art history at Brown University in 2001 and interned with Tannenbaum at the museum. Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic certainly haven’t been neglected in this show, but traveling to Havana last November was quite revealing to Morales. This was the first time he had been in the country since leaving as a child, and he was impressed with the lively art activity. "When we went to Cuba, I was really struck by how extensive the art scene was there and how much support there was," he said. "I’ve been very familiar with the better-known Cuban artists, so finding these younger, lesser-known artists was really a priority. And we were really pleased with what we found." Speaking at the show’s opening in the Farago wing, he motioned toward a good example of what he meant — nearby work by Abel Oliva. "I think there’s this trend in the representation of Cuban art, where they’ll find the same figures and really stick with them, very stubbornly," he added. "I think it’s really important to branch out and allow new artists into the whole discussion." Standing before Oliva’s "Los chicos felices de Robin Hood (Robin Hood’s Happy Kids)" (2003), Morales got specific about his appreciation. "I just really like his approach," he said. "It’s conceptual but very formal at the same time. His pieces are very beautiful and they have this nice, rough look to them that I like." The series of silk-screened prints, boldly colorful, depicted common objects, such as a red container of Tiger Balm salve, a 78-rpm vinyl disk, and black pocket combs. Next to the display, a CD player played voices speaking Spanish. Morales’s boss, Judith Tannenbaum, had stepped over. She added an observation about Oliva. "One thing is that he really follows through, in terms of the ideas of the piece," she said. "These are objects that are sold on the black market. The soundtrack is the actual interactions on the street. He doesn’t have a good print shop, so they’re made with these oil-based inks. They’re very beautiful but they off-gas — when he brought them to the museum, conservators [went] crazy with this." In the bilingual catalog for the show, Morales’s essay "Beyond Insularity" celebrates some of the ways these artists have gone past such parochial issues as islands being isolated. In these days of instant communication and international travel — even for Cubans artists under the American embargo — creative minds in the Caribbean can readily share their ideas and concerns with interested people beyond their borders. Even with people as far off as Providence, Rhode Island. — B.R.

Tourist bureaus around the Caribbean may not be happy with the current exhibition at the RISD Museum of Art. Not that the three places under artistic scrutiny are shown in a bad light, just that they are shown to be more real than Club Med would have you think.

"Island Nations: New Art from Cuba, the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, and the Diaspora" presents the diverse work of 23 artists, as well as from the museum’s permanent collection. The show not only dismisses the tropical paradise post card view of the region, it reveals a giddy creative ferment in the islands. Diverse concerns and accomplishments are on display in painting, sculpture, and photography, as well as multimedia installations and video. It’s the first art show ever to group the three Spanish-speaking nations together.

Numerous works here make striking impressions, whether visually, conceptually or both. Combining both impressively is Dominican artist Tony Capellán. He triggers ideas about poverty as well as a tactile shudder with "Mar Caribe (Caribbean Sea)" (1996). In it he has laid out an expanse of worn-out blue flip-flops, about 15 feet wide, that washed up on a river bank, and has replaced the rubber toe straps with barbed wire.

A similar melding is accomplished by Cuban-born Quisqueya Henriquez, who now lives in the Dominican Republic. She presents a photographic enlargement of a turquoise scoop of bizarrely colored ice cream. "Helado hecho de agua de Mar Caribe (Ice Cream Made from Water from the Caribbean Sea)" (2002) came out of an interactive performance/installation that presented actual, if salty, taste treats to audiences.

As intriguingly visual are two of a series of 10 surreal "dresses" by Dominican Raquel Paiewonsky, from "Parida, de la serie Vestial (Birthed, from the Vestial series)" (1998-2000). One is made from orange fake fur and hair curlers; the other is a wearable mountain of toy baby dolls. They are whimsical objections to the common identity of women in macho cultures.

As you would assume, Latin America’s Catholicism comes into play here and there. Cuban-born Ernesto Pujol, who now lives in Puerto Rico, presents a little cross-dressed cognitive dissonance. He poses seated in a white habit as a novice nun in the photograph "Frontal Novice (Novicio frontal)" (1999). Startling to encounter is "La silla de Pilatos (Pilate’s Chair)" (2002) by Dominican Pascal Meccariello. Before a stark black chair, a light box simulates a wash basin, with two stigmata-marked feet glowing blue within.

Among the video and multimedia works is a darkened room of television screens on which eight black and white faces appear. "La isla en peso (imágines del video) (Island burden [video stills])" (2002) presents images of Cuban artist Tania Bruguera making various grotesque facial gestures, her movements slowed to near immobility. The title is that of a 1943 poem by Virgilio Piñera, which enumerates difficulties and frustrations in the country. Brugera’s images employ similar titles, such as "The eternal misery which is the act of remembering" and "The damned circumstance of water everywhere."

Upstairs in the Farago wing, several artists employ architecture to convey felt senses of place. Three Cubans who call themselves Los Carpinteros (The Carpenters), have installed three towering components from their 2000 "Ciudad transportable (Transportable City)" series, tent-like structures that simulate a factory, a lighthouse, and an apartment building. The objects are humorous, and a little poignant, in the context of Cuba’s chronic housing and construction materials shortages.

In the same space, a related problem is addressed not only conceptually but also socially and psychologically in a panoramic photograph of "El cerro (The Hillside)" (2000 and ongoing). Chemi Rosado Seijo has created an embryonic possibility of communal and aesthetic pride in the crime-ridden town of Naranjito, in Puerto Rico. The artist has convinced numerous residents to paint their dwellings in various shades of green, blending into the hillside.

The strength of the museum’s Nancy Sayles Day Collection of Modern Latin American Art is also evident here. For example, prominent near the entrance to the show is Rafael Ferrer’s "El Rio Balatá: «En las montañas te siente libre» (The Balata River: "In the mountains, there you feel free")" (1988). It shows a few tiny native figures dwarfed in a lush tropical landscape packed with tall palm trees, inviting you to read in irony if you don’t want to fall victim to the sunny title. Having greater impact is Cuban artist José Bedia’s "Toda la vida así? (All My Life Like This?)" (1991). A figure — carrying a staff? a spear? — strides across a slackened rope, above dangerous pointed forms and skulls, as precarious a posture as any artist anywhere has ever struck.

"Islas Naciones" does not pretend to take an exhaustive look at the art being made in these three places, but the representative examples it presents are intriguing indeed.

"Island Nations:New Art from Cuba, the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, and the Diaspora"

At the RISD Museum of Art through January 30.