Set the Can on Fire. Interview with Mónica Ferreras

“…life, when was it really ours?, when are we really what we are?
all things considered we are not, we never are,
alone, but vertigo and void,
grimaces in the mirror, horror and vomit,
never is life ours, it is others’
life is no one’s, we all are
life –sun bread for the others,
all the others that we are-,
I am another when I am, my acts
are more my own if they are also everyone’s,
for me to be I must be another,
to leave myself, to look for me among the others,
the others that are not if I do not exist,
the others who give me full existence,
I am not, there is no me, it is always us,
It is another life, always there, farther,
Out of you, of me, always a horizon…”

Octavio Paz

By the hand of an ancestral dialogical combination, Mónica Ferreras has created an exceptional body of work in the visual arts in the Dominican Republic. This unique character is overwhelmingly articulated in the current urban totems. The ritualism that defines her sculptures and installations, inaugurated in her already legendary Obelisco de Casabe (Cassava Obelisk) (1996), is expressed in the minimalism of the dialogical sculptures she has elaborated in keeping with, and never better said, the young people from marginalized neighborhoods in Santo Domingo. The sound tracks she has produced in collaboration with the rappers from “Capotillo Nasty Club” are on their way to becoming a truly discographical phenomenon. And we must remember that the local industry has been favoring for decades now, the self-sufficient musical production, the bachata for instance, a unique case in the Caribbean and Latin America, with the exception of Brazil, where the local industry also disregards the parameters and external logistics to reach commercial success.

However, the work by Mónica Ferreras, far from seeking the immediacy of the applause and cash remuneration, has rigorously kept to the area of psychological research, Jungian, to be more specific, sociological, formal, material and now, as we know, also musical research. In their widest sense, these inquiries concern us all. There is a resonance with the dead, that, as she explains to us below, are paradoxically very much alive; and with the living, which sleep the dream of an exacerbated consumerism like the one that currently permeates the Dominican society.

A liberating humanism is perceived in the calls of attention of artworks like El del pikete (2011), a video art where a puppet caricatures ostentation and waste by the poor, the rich and the almost rich. The diasporic phenomenon of the remittances has created a generation indifferent to the effort of those who work until exhaustion to support them. Similar reflections are found in artworks like In You We Trust, (2007) by Ana Urquilla (San Salvador, 1979), consisting of hammocks with this motto “set” in the edges. The resultant paralysis of these precarious and artificial existential conditions, besides the squander (or waste), could be interpreted also as a thread or leitmotif that transcends all social classes. On this indifference towards the common good, towards joint aims as social groups, the strata and institutions of all kinds, with very few exceptions, equally agree.

Mónica Ferreras raises her questions over this human misery in the very voices of the protagonists of a trans-local and diasporic drama. The result of her questionnaire, in its urban dimension, is organized in a sculptural sense, that is, a three-dimensional one: trying-seeing-listening to these realities. This is a production where the theatricality of the video art, the totemic ritualism of sculpture and the atmospheric sonority of painting smoothly exchange the making of sense. The artist uncovers the mystery of the being in tune with the intimate individuality and in resonance, as Octavio Paz reminds us, “… [with] the others that are not if I do not exist…”.

In your recent work there is a systematic dialogical praxis. It reminds me of the collective “om” you invited us to intone as participants in the performance at the opening of your solo exhibition during the IV Caribbean Biennale (2001). Are you trying to find that mystic resonance or is it about an artistic-social experiment?

It is rather an artistic social experiment because my intention with this body of work is to reflect how we perceive ourselves, but taking as starting point the very own voice of the inhabitants in the neighborhoods. It is about seeing ourselves from the sea to the inside. The sea as a frontier, as a wall; and then seeing what happens in here, with the contents. The totem by definition is an element of differentiation of one tribe with respect to another one. Although it may have a mystical and protective component, it is fundamentally a symbol, a logo, a surname for the tribe. So I transformed that symbology into our neighboring reality. Our neighborhoods have an identity of their own, they like to differentiate from the adjacent neighborhoods, they have their specific narrative. I made a simple survey asking young people above all, how they would describe themselves, the good things they understand they have, and what distinguishes them from other neighborhoods.

The totemic liturgy from Obelisco de Casabe (1996), that contemplative mood you seek in your audience, is reproduced in this recent work. To a material level, can they be compared or is there another more suitable parameter to analyze these convergences?

I think they can, they are connected through the materials I choose, but above all, in the way in which I organize them. I feel that formal, sober aspect, contemplative, that has characterized many of my works, adds to their reading. I like simplicity; I do not like either visual or auditory noises. It is my way of inducing the audience to reflect, because they find themselves in front of an artwork that suggests things, but at the same time, many other things that are there are to be discovered, though they demand special attention.

You have made a dialogical work with our ancestral cultures. How does it feel to talk to the dead? How do these dialogues palpitate in your current work?

To talk to the dead is salutary because they are the guardians of different types of wisdom. The “good” dead bring us the pride of being, of belonging, of the “it can be done”. They are the basis of what we are. The “bad” dead remind us of the destructive potential we have and point out to me towards where I do not want to go. The dead in a symbolic sense are our ancestral conscience. They are part of our collective unconscious, of our DNA. I believe there is an infinite source of learning when we can make contact with these forces that, paradoxically, are alive. Healing, growth, forgiveness, creative impulse for life, humbleness, joy, redemption, all in all, innumerable issues that are worth taking into account.

These dialogues are present sometimes in a very clear way, as in the exhibition Mayaní Makaná (1996), and some others more subtly, as in the piece Totem para Capotillo (Totem for Capotillo) (2011). Those dialogues have been vital to carry out my work; they are felt in the very same atmosphere the artworks give off. The elements: cassava, cuaba soap, bells, tires, sounds, wood, iron, ropes with the national colors and the like, contribute to give expression to this atmosphere.

Your Jungian path is quite recognizable both in the labyrinths of your paintings and in the installation with soaps you made at the X-Teresa Arte Actual (Current Art X-Teresa) (2000). Nevertheless, there is a distinct lack of sexuality in your work. I am intrigued by this extreme privacy knowing your critical incisiveness, especially with respect to the social taboos in the Dominican society.

An excellent question and reflection; I had not noticed. Honestly, I do not know why that is, because as you very well say, I am totally open with my sexual orientation and in times in my life I have seen myself bound to movements that fight for the rights of our LGBT community. I would have to analyze this in more depth, and believe me I will. But for a start, maybe the fact itself that I am at peace with this aspect of my life makes it not an issue for aftertastes, at least not until today. It occurs to me that what is not solved or is about halfway to be solved; what is there and I cannot see but it wants to come out, as well as the inconformities that I can indeed see, are the source of inspiration for my work.

Your stage sets, how do they infiltrate into your video arts and vice versa?

I love theater and many of my video arts formally have a stage structure like CAE (2005), Directrices (2005) and more recently El del Pikete, which I made with a puppet as unique protagonist. It is rather that my set designs infiltrate into my videos. I feel that formally there is an enormous force in theatrical language of which I have taken advantage of in my favor: it is clear, structured, every movement has a why. That attention to movements adds to the reading of the artwork, and it allows me to achieve a clear and clean piece, according to what my purpose is.

And that about composing music, since when? Should we prepare ourselves for another Rita Indiana phenomenon, who by the way made her debut in video art as a character in your video art Directrices?

Nothing of the sort of Rita Indiana! I have always liked to write and several years ago I composed several songs. Then one day, creating one of my video arts, I realized I needed something special for the soundtrack that could totally integrate into the visual aspect. Then, searching and searching for something that could adapt to it, the idea came to me that I myself could do the lyrics of the songs and find someone to interpret them and also an arranger. I set out to it and got a very good arranger, whom I met in the production of El 28 (The 28^th) by the Guyola Theater, where I was in charge of the scenography. I had liked the work he did in the musicalization for this play, we talked, and as we say around here: “set the can on fire”. Then it coincided that working in Capotillo, making the interviews, I met two boys that are the rappers “Capotillo Nasty Club” and I liked what they did, I made them the interpreters and they did a very good job. This experience was super enriching and exciting for me. People liked a lot the three songs we produced and we have plans to cut a CD with eight songs. We are currently looking for funding for this project.

How do you connect in your work the Caribbean urban iconography through music?

In the last three videos I made last year there is a very clear connection through rap in a Dominican urban version. Those boys from “Capotillo Nasty Club” are faithful representatives of the musical urban movement in our country. Also conceptually and formally there is a totally connected relation: ¿“Qué e’ lo que se mueve y no c’empogota?” (What moves and does not get sticky?)

I invite you to cofound with me a multidimensional feminist museum: “Gineceo. Mujer y Creación Dominicana”. (Ginoecyum. Woman and Dominican Creation). There are female artists, architects, merengue singers, journalists, fashionists, editors and writers; also some exceptional men that have dignified women in their work can enter the collection. My list starts with Celeste Woss y Gil, Abigaíl Mejía, Soraya Aracena, Sonia Pié, Ana Mitila Lora, Josefina Báez, Lourdes Periche, Mónica Ferreras, Milly Quezada, Jenny Vázques, Raúl Recio and Jorge Pineda. And yours?

In my list there would be: Marilí Gallardo, Elvira Taveras, Carlota Carretero, Nuria Piera, Nereyda Rodríguez, Sonia Silvestre, Xiomara Fortuna, Soucy de Pellerano, Mamá Tingó, Elenita Santos and many others.