MAR RAMON SORIANO + PAUL MOK
YI GALLERY (BROOKLYN)
ESP
Existe una verticalidad en el cuerpo que siempre me ha interesado, convirtiéndonos en líneas perpendiculares al suelo gracias a la gravedad. Esta condición es fundamental en mis esculturas, influyendo en la colocación y sustentación de los módulos en el espacio. En ocasiones, los módulos se apilan en forma de torres, ejerciendo mayor presión sobre los inferiores. En otros casos, un volumen superior sostiene a los demás, generando tensiones físicas.
Estas tensiones me llevan a trabajar con materiales específicos, seleccionados por sus cualidades físicas y poéticas. Las cuerdas cumplen la función de sostener, unir y conectar. La cerámica, en mi trabajo, simboliza el cuerpo, siendo frágil y sosteniéndose de manera precaria. Representa vacío, forma y volumen. El
A través de las dimensiones de la cerámica, logro conquistar el espacio. Construyo módulos que se apilan unos sobre otros, como rascacielos imponentes u obeliscos, buscando alcanzar una altura o monumentalidad a partir de la colectivización de módulos más modestos. Estos volúmenes encierran la semilla del cuerpo, que lleva y es llevado, que sirve de soporte o es apoyado por otros.
Esta reunión de obras fusiona dos líneas conceptuales que me interesan. La primera es el diálogo entre materiales y cuerpos, que puede ser empático pero también forzado. En algunas piezas, unos cuerpos sostienen a otros, mientras que en otras ocasiones, los cuerpos se ven obligados a estar juntos gracias a cintas elásticas que los sostienen. La tensión de estas cintas ejerce presión suficiente sobre los cuerpos para mantenerlos juntos y construye estructuras estables que se pueden colocar de forma autónoma en el suelo. Pequeños trozos de jabón despliegan una narrativa sobre el cuidado del cuerpo y las rutinas diarias, al tiempo que aluden a las espumas, siendo ellos mismos una pre-espuma.
Me interesa la idea de las espumas debido a las lecturas que ofrecen sobre la limpieza, la protección, la seguridad y la fragilidad. Conceptualmente, estas lecturas se transmiten a través de los escritos de Peter Sloterdijk recopilados en su trilogía 'Esferas'. Según estos textos, el ser humano es el genio de la proximidad, y las espumas no son más que un conjunto de esferas agrupadas que simbolizan la red de relaciones que se establece entre cuerpos y objetos. 'El ser-ahí ya lleva consigo la esfera de la posible vecindad' (Sloterdijk: 2004, p.16). Al igual que la ontología orientada al objeto de Graham Harman teoriza las relaciones materiales entre las cosas, Sloterdijk utiliza la metáfora de la espuma para hablar de la república de los espacios.
Así, la serie de esculturas que se presentan hablan del individuo como parte de una red de conexiones que se expresa a través de las espumas que también significan sistemas o estructuras.
Los sistemas incluyen a los cuerpos pero también a los espacios que se habitan y objetos que se utilizan, hay una especie de todo maleable y poroso que se relaciona y se afecta, así los títulos de las obras ponen hincapié en ello: sistemas empáticos, reuniones o un togetherness que repetido se expande y se alarga por el espacio.
ENG
There is a verticality in the body that has always intrigued me, turning us into perpendicular lines to the ground thanks to gravity. This condition is fundamental in my sculptures, influencing the placement and support of the modules in space. At times, the modules are stacked as towers, exerting greater pressure on the lower ones. In other cases, an upper volume supports the others, generating physical tensions.
These tensions lead me to work with specific materials, selected for their physical and poetic qualities. Ropes serve the function of supporting, uniting, and connecting. In my work, ceramics symbolize the body, being fragile and precariously supported. They represent emptiness, form, and volume. The dialogue between soft and hard, familiar and strange, shapes a whole that seeks to make our own bodies accomplices.
Through the dimensions of ceramics, I conquer space. I construct modules that stack on top of each other, like imposing skyscrapers or obelisks, aiming to achieve height or monumentality through the collectivization of more modest modules. These volumes enclose the seed of the body, which carries and is carried, serving as support or being supported by others.
This gathering of works merges two conceptual lines that interest me. The first is the dialogue between materials and bodies, which can be empathetic but also forced. In some pieces, one body supports another, while in other instances, bodies are compelled to be together through elastic bands that hold them. The tension of these bands exerts enough pressure on the bodies to keep them together and constructs stable structures that can be autonomously placed on the ground. Small nopieces of soap unfold a narrative about body care and daily routines, while also alluding to foam, being a pre-foam themselves.
I am interested in the idea of foam because of the readings it offers regarding cleanliness, protection, security, and fragility. Conceptually, these readings are conveyed through the writings of Peter Sloterdijk compiled in his trilogy 'Spheres'. According to these texts, humans are geniuses of proximity, and foam is nothing more than a group of clustered spheres that symbolize the network of relationships established between bodies and objects. 'Being-there already carries the sphere of possible neighboring' (Sloterdijk: 2004, p.16). Just as Graham Harman's object-oriented ontology theorizes the material relationships between things, Sloterdijk uses the metaphor of foam to speak about the republic of spaces.
Thus, the series of sculptures presented speak of the individual as part of a network of connections expressed through foam, which also signifies systems or structures. Systems include bodies but also the spaces inhabited and objects used; there is a malleable and porous entirety that relates and affects. Therefore, the titles of the artworks emphasize this: empathetic systems, meetings, or a togetherness that expands and extends through space.
GALLERY TEXT
ENG
In their first joint exhibition, Every Place is Also Another, Mar Ramón Soriano and Paul Mok activate the gallery space through engaging in a dialogue between manmade and natural materials. Concrete, conduits, plants, clay and canvas – all responding to and resisting gravity – ultimately highlight and further celebrate the mundane in the space. The works on view are in conversation with the industrial history of the gallery architecture, inviting visitors to experience and occupy an intimate space with their own body. Pleasant and awkward encounters, in symbiosis or contradiction, are encouraged.
An opening reception, with both artists in attendance, will take place on Saturday, June 17, from 3 to 6pm. The exhibition may be previewed by appointment from 1 to 3 pm before the public opening.
Thanks to gravity, a verticality in the body turns us into perpendicular lines to the ground. This condition is fundamental in Mar Ramón Soriano’s sculptures, influencing the placement and support of modules in space. At times, the modules are stacked as towers, exerting greater pressure on ones below. In other cases, an upper volume supports the others, generating physical tension. This tension leads her to work with specific materials, selected for their physical and poetic qualities: ropes serve the function of supporting, uniting and connecting. In her work, Mar Ramón Soriano’s ceramics symbolize the body – fragile and precariously supported. They represent emptiness, form and volume. The dialogue between soft and hard, familiar and strange, shapes a whole that seeks to make accomplices of our own bodies. “Through the dimensions of ceramics, I conquer space. I construct modules that stack on top of each other, like imposing skyscrapers or obelisks, aiming to achieve height or monumentality through the collectivization of more modest modules. These volumes enclose the seed of the body, which carries and is carried, serving as support or being supported by others.“
The installation If I collect a lot of bodies I can be as long as I want to be (2022-2023) is part of the artist’s Infinite Vase series, in which small gestures and small bodies – in repetition – conquer and define the gallery space. Canvas, pictorial material par excellence, also becomes sculpture. Between materials and bodies, there is a dialogue that can be empathetic, but can also be forced. In some cases, one body supports another, while in other instances, bodies are pressed together with elastic bands. The tension of these bands exerts enough pressure on the bodies to hold them together and constructs stable structures that can be autonomously placed on the ground. In forced meetings, pleasant meetings I (2023), a small piece of soap unfolds a narrative about body care and daily routines, while also alluding to foam, being a pre-foam themselves. Ramón is interested in the idea of foam because of the readings it offers regarding cleanliness, protection, security and fragility. Conceptually, these readings are conveyed through the writings of Peter Sloterdijk, compiled in his trilogy, Spheres. According to these texts, humans are geniuses of proximity, and foam is nothing more than a group of clustered spheres that symbolize the network of relationships established between bodies and objects. “Being-there already carries the sphere of possible neighboring” (Sloterdijk: 2004, p.16). Just as Graham Harman's object-oriented ontology theorizes the material relationships among things, Sloterdijk uses the metaphor of foam to speak about the republic of spaces. Ramón’s sculpture speaks of the individual as part of a network of connections expressed through foam, which also signifies structures or systems, including bodies, and also the spaces and objects. There is a malleable and porous entirety that relates and affects.
Drawn to common building elements, such as electrical conduits and outlets, Paul Mok composes an entire installation, Flip (2020 - 2023), surrounding a single light switch, which takes center stage. Every other element is built to support its existence: an elaborate and layered landscape made out of poured concrete and an intricate wooden base, with miniature clay figures dotted throughout the meticulously constructed scene. Front and center, in its essential mundanity and synthetic grandiosity, the switch has been transformed into something with authority. Tracing the use of concrete in his work, Mok recalls his experience in Hiroshima: “I visited the Hiroshima Peace Memorial in 2017. It was originally an industrial hall, and it was one of the very few buildings that remained standing after the bombing (because it was built out of concrete, steel and bricks, not wood). They kept it in its ruined state to memorialize the atrocities humans have committed against one another. What moved me were the plants. They were growing out of the cracks, covering the floor. They were flourishing.”
Consisting of a long “table,” roughly 2.5 by 7 ft (0.7 x 21. m), and resembling a broken piece of concrete slab from an abandoned basement, You Are Living Someone Else’s Dream (2023) was first conceived when Mok was living in a basement as a foreigner whose visa was about to expire. On the table, pieces of paper read like fortune cookie strips. But they are actually all sentences the artist wrote when he was contemplating what to put on this table in order to reveal the condition under which the artwork was conceived. It’s practically possible to put all these sentences back together to reconstruct the original writing, but the answer to “what’s on the table” will only be the artist’s original struggle in deciding what, indeed, to put on the table: “The struggle in meaning-seeking will be answered with the original struggle in meaning-making.” The artist asks, “Is it possible to fully demonstrate a first-person experience, one’s struggles and failures in making sense of one’s circumstances? Is it possible to show a sculpture as what it truly is – an unfinished attempt at meaning-making?” Mok employs a complex constellation of objects, ranging from industrial building materials and childhood photographs to handmade clay sculptures and living plants. An encyclopedic and accumulative environment, the “table” appears salvaged from a world abandoned by humans, in which plants and other creatures have begun to take over. What remains from humanity are the infrastructural ruins (the savaged concrete table) and some form of broken narrative (the cookie strips). The notion of “table,” when used as a verb; e.g., to “table” something, implies neglecting or postponing dealing with something. “I think that’s what I did to my childhood self. Over the years, I ended up suppressing, denying and despising who I was as a kid. “What's on the table” also means the things that are available for a bargain: what one is willing to trade/give up. And I think I have always traded that side of me for my career, my ambitions, etc. Yet, I think it was that “kid” who has been quietly making all these artworks in the past years. It's likely also where the anxiety captured in the fortune cookie strips stems from.”