Where: The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. Currently on exhibit until February 1, 2024.

Why: A series of over 50 paintings by Claude Monet document the Seine River. Monet lived in Argenteuil, Vétheuil, Possy, and Giverny at various times in his life and used the serpentine river as his studio.

At Giverny, Monet would get up at 3 am. and row a skiff out to where he had a studio boat anchored. Monet would then have several easels set up and go from one to the other successively as the sun rose, capturing the different light and the detail it illuminated. This exhibit literally has gathered these painting from all over the world in a once in a lifetime chance to see them side-by-side.

On one wall three of the paintings from Monet’s Vétheuil phase have been loaned from a trio of museums located on three different continents. Each one reveals an increasing greater sense of a church being reflected in the water, as the light allows.

Many of the paintings use the mirror like reflection of water so well and are so symmetrical they can be looked at upside down, as the center is the horizon line, and look like a Rorschach blot. Perhaps there is also a psychological portrait of Monet that emerges since the works take in separate points of his own life journey. At one point Monet was thrown out of a hotel stark naked in the middle of the night for not paying his bill. Monet then lived in a crowded house with his wife and children and another family. His wife died. The man suffered many hardships before he became a famous and rich artist. All of this is reflected in this assemblage of his paintings.

— Michael Bergeron

FUCK FACTS, SHOW ME THE ART by Bryan Parras

The debate is over. There is undeniable consensus that the world is getting hotter.  Summer 2024 was just designated as the hottest summer ever, and 2024 is poised to be the hottest year ever recorded according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.

The world news now has a daily segment for extreme weather, with images of flash floods, raging forest fires, heatwaves, droughts, and blizzards (not to mention weird pests and diseases).  Yet the U.S. continues to favor fossil fuels with subsidies and tax breaks, while people across the globe begin adaptation measures for what’s only going to get worse.

Poster by César Maxit.

The People’s Climate March (PCM) has passed, and while 400,000 people taking over Lower Manhattan for an afternoon was impressive, for most of those who participated, the work is just beginning. The march served as an exclamation point to the urgent call to action on greenhouse gas emissions.

Still, the American public is unimpressed. Whether your head is in the sand or you’re sufficiently sedated with capitalist goodies, the evidence abounds. So what will it take for the American public to wake up?  What will be the catalyst to motivate the masses? Perhaps facts don’t matter. If flash floods, drought and severe weather can’t do the trick, can art lend a hand? Maybe we need poets, painters, and artists to tap into our emotional experience.

Enter native Houston artist César Maxit and dozens of other artists, activist and volunteers who convened in Bushwick, Brooklyn at the MayDay Convergence studio and Be Electric warehouse in preparation for the People’s Climate March.

Poster by César Maxit

Maxit’s family fled Argentina when he was six, as the Dirty War targeted left-wing political opponents and led to thousands of civilian deaths and disappearances.  This is exactly the type of experience that can shape an individual’s politics, but Maxit had a fairly normal upbringing on Houston’s west side. He grew up on Dairy Ashford and later attended college at Texas A&M, where he studied architecture, but he soon grew bored and unfulfilled with his professional career.

“It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, working the professional corporate world as an architect, so I found that just to feel like I was contributing to society and my community, I really had to engage beyond my professional world and engage with community groups on different issues,” Maxit said. “That’s where my art flourished and developed, in service to different groups working for positive social change.”

Since then, Maxit has worked with groups like School of the Americas Watch, Présente, and immigrant rights groups. For the People’s Climate March, he was commissioned by Oil Change International to design and print 150 flags representing the need to end government and private funding for further fossil fuel extraction.

“It’s beautiful,” said David Turnbull, Campaigns Director for Oil Change International. “César Maxit helped design this really beautiful banner with a dinosaur that has smokestacks coming out of its back. It’s gorgeous and it really tells the story of how we are funding these fossil fuels that we really need to be keeping underground.”

César Maxit printing posters.

Across the street at Be Electric, CultureStrike, Galería de la Raza and others were working on larger pieces of art.  Floats and parachutes fill the space.  Saws and hammering can be heard as artists and volunteers scurry to finish the pieces.

“Artist are often somebody you call at the last minute to make a boring march or rally seem a little bit more interesting,” says the bestselling author, artist, and activist Gan Golan. “But luckily, we’ve been able to do things differently this time, and artists have really been part of the DNA of the strategy of creating this whole movement.”

César Maxit in studio.

I wasn’t the only one impressed with the ability of art to tackle intersections in climate discussions that are often difficult to articulate.  Liana Lopez and Yudith Nieto share their takeaways from last week’s convergence in the following reflections.

MOTHER EARTH HAS PUSSY POWER by Liana Lopez

Artist Favianna Rodriguez created striking “Hands Off Our Pussies. Hands Off Mother Earth” signs and uncomfortably detailed but colorfully painted three-foot vagina posters to help folks make what should be an obvious connection.

Photo by Liana Lopez

“We are life givers, just like the earth is a life giver. Women are still heavily exploited at a global level through sex, all to make profits. It’s the same kind of thinking that goes into ‘let’s exploit everything we to can to make profits from the land.’” Favianna said. “There’s an arrogant attitude that exists in the world that says that we can just rape mother earth. We extract, poison the water, the air becomes unbreathable and it’s really a form of rape.”

The intersectionality between the feminist and climate change movements seems painfully obvious, but I hadn’t put made that connection until the moment Favianna explained it in those particular terms.

“I wanted to draw that analogy and really remind folks…people in power are men. They dominate every single field and have created wars and destroyed the planet. When will we have a vision with female leadership? With leadership of those that are giving life? We have the solutions and it’s really about tapping into that knowledge,” Favianna said.

Her artwork centers on social justice themes and has been exhibited internationally. Favianna is also the director of CultureStrike, a dual-coast grassroots collective of artists and writers, and a coordinating partner of the march. She has created powerful imagery for the People’s Climate March, including the “Defend our Mother” poster with an image of the earth behind a mother holding her child.

Poster by Favianna Rodriguez

Native American filmmaker Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers is another artist that highlights the analogy of Mother Earth being raped for resources through the provocative film short Bloodland. She previewed the unsettling piece in the Frack Off Indigenous Women Leading Media Campaigns to Defend our Climate panel in the lead up to the march.

“The film is simply a reflection of my feelings toward the incredibly harmful process of fracking happening on my home territory,” Elle-Máijá said.

Even more impressive is the fact that Elle-Máijá produced the film using restitution check funds stemming from the Blood Tribe Chief and Council’s selling of tribal lands for fracking purposes. She had no control of the final sell of the land by her council chief, but she had control over what she could do with the money. After physical protests at the site failed, she created Bloodland. She hired a completely indigenous cast and crew and officially credits the gas and oil companies for funding the work in the closing film credits.

Mother Earth has pussy power.  Of course she does!  For supporters of women’s right and equality, it should be an easy concept to understand.  Feminists and climate change allies go hand-in-hand, naturally.

Genocidal Tendencies by Yudith Nieto

The power of art is its relationship with a region and its people. It’s a means to communicate with others and serves as a social commentary about what is going on in the world.

That power was witnessed at the People’s Climate March (PCM) this past Sunday. Most of the artists that were involved in producing the powerful art pieces at the PCM either come from or stand in solidarity with those on the frontlines – the communities of color and First Nations who often bear the brunt of climate change impacts while also suffering disproportionately from extreme extraction, polluting industries that threaten their health and displacement from their homelands.

One story I heard is that of Rodolfo Vasquez, a young construction worker from Mexico, D.F., who came to the U.S. in search of a better life packing only his hopes and dreams. Rodolfo is part of an artist collective called “Ropavejeros” (rag-and-bone men) that includes New York muralist Raul Ayala.

The collective works with communities to create art that represents the shared struggle of immigrant and undocumented residents. The Ropavejeros were working on a people-powered float made especially for the PCM entitled “el Nido de la Esperanza” (Nest of Hope).

Rodolfo works full-time and volunteers for the collective on his days off.  Many of the members have taken days off from work, unpaid, to help finish the pieces. He expressed frustration towards the “fresas,” privileged youngsters of the movement, who can do this sort of thing all day because they fund themselves or have become career activists. Unlike him, he struggles to support himself financially. Rodolfo feels that it’s important to tell the immigrant story, so he volunteers his time and expertise.

I thought of Ayala’s tree when I heard Gloria Hilda Ushigua Santi’s story. She traveled thousands of miles to join the march and participated in the Climate Justice Summit, organized by the Climate Justice Alliance, Indigenous Environmental Network and other allies.

Hear her story (starting at the 30:00 minute mark)

Gloria Hilda Ushigua Santi

Gloria is a member of the Sápara nation deep in the Amazonian rainforest of Ecuador.  Her tribe has been reduced to less than 500 people and is currently recognized as endangered on UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity List. The critical numbers are due to the migration of settlers and energy speculators into their ancestral lands.

Both stories touching on the threat of the extinction of people who are most impacted by climate change is staggering to me. We hear about animals, plants, and even a gecko, but people? WTF? We have a serious problem if we continue to think that building a Starbucks is far more important than cultivating a rich land-based way of life.

The People’s Climate March was not guided by the big NGO’s that day but by the frontline groups who ultimately made the march their own and brought attention to the culprits obsessed with capitalism and the commodification of our natural resources.

With the efforts to hold them accountable for developing conditions in which we are no longer able to thrive in our environments, we all have a responsibility to the communities sacrificed for our better quality of life.

Panelists will focus on how traditional values and regional cultures relate to a contemporary approach to African art, as well as explore how African artists translate personal and cultural identity into their work. They will also cover West African and American hair culture.

Panelists include artist Regina Agu, Menil curator of collections Paul R. Davis, arts writer Garry Reece and artist Rosine Kouamen.

Additionally, a selection of collages and altered magazines will be available alongside beer from Saint Arnold’s.

Additionally, artist Michael Blise will show his coloring book for Rusty, a well-known barrio dog.

The public reception is two hours, but the exhibit will run until Aug. 9.

Empire 
Clear
Daniel Anguilu
El Nacho
Ana María
Gear
Paty Lennon
R2D2
W3R3ON3
Kato
Gasp
Meenr
Royal

There will also be a silent auction for pieces of the mural Empire painted for the StationMuseum Houston exhibition “Call it what you know.”

Music will be DJed by Gracie Chavez. I saw her set this year at FPSF, and she put on an impressive show. Gotta admire someone who works the crowd by getting off stage and dancing with audience members.

Opening reception is Friday from 7-10, but the exhibit runs until Aug. 21.

Edit: Guys, we dug up the extended interview. Check out Eva’s full responses. 

Counteracting its own sense of immobility, a sculpture can temporarily expand the mind, allowing us a space in which to foster a new understanding – of ourselves or an idea. In her work, Eva Maria Lourdes seeks to create this space. Using her work to enact change in her own life, she provides a platform from which the viewer can reflect upon his or her own capacity for expansion, movement, and transition.

In your bio, you state that you graduated with an MA in Psychology from Stanford and soon joined a startup in Silicon Valley. This mindset of following the typical path of “graduate and get a job, any job” has been pretty commonplace for a while. What led to you stray from it and into an artistic career? 

It wasn’t exactly that way for me. I didn’t want to get just any job—instead I felt an obligation to start a career “worthy” of the credentials that I (with my family’s strong support) had earned with a lot of hard work. Basically, I was seeking a particular earning potential right out of college; I wanted, or at least I thought I wanted, the privileges and status of a Stanford-educated young professional. After a few years of committed effort, I landed a job at an exceptionally attractive and promising tech startup in the Bay Area. I should have been really excited; I should have been encouraged and motivated to continue on the career path I had chosen. Instead, I was miserable! And the disparity between what I had supposedly achieved and my actual feelings about my job forced me to confront how deeply unfulfilled I was. At some point, I could no longer forego pursuing art as my main priority. Very simply, it was no longer a choice I could make.

What role did art play in your life before the switch? 

I have always developed ideas and created material objects; I just never allowed them to take center stage in my life. Being an artist just didn’t seem practical, even though making things was what sustained me in various ways. So, for years before I left my career in online media, I had been taking weekend and evening art classes. The switch had more to do with a conscious acknowledgement that I was willing and able to pursue a career in the arts.

You moved to New York to pursue art, which while bold some also might find naïve. Why did you choose New York? What direction did your experience there afford you? 

Well, I guess it was naïve—in a way. But I moved to New York and worked in online media for a short while longer before finally quitting. Quitting my career, and admitting to myself that I wanted to be an artist, is what finally served as a strict point of divergence. So, yes, I knew it was ridiculous. But I also knew that it was the beginning of a willingness to take extreme risks and even to fail. That was hard—you know? But actually spending the time in New York turned my willingness to take a risk into a deep-seated motivation and creative resilience that I hope will see me through.

Going back to your Psychology background, it’s especially apparent in your submission for DiverseWorks’ Luck of the Draw in which the origin of the title, at least, is from Psychology. Can you speak to why you chose to study Psychology and whether/how it impacts your work now? 

I can’t say enough about how crucial my training in psychology has been; it has informed my conceptualization of everything. This is not to say that my learning, questioning, and seeking ended when I graduated from college. I’m still a very curious person, and I continue to read widely and a lot. But while at Stanford, I was able to build a foundation that, in retrospect, I can see gives me the courage to express myself artistically within the public realm.

In May, you spoke at a Diverse Works on Wednesdays Pecha Kucha-style event. In lieu of speaking, you played a segment of Herman Hesse’s “Siddhartha” in which the title character listed off a series of statements when asked by a friend to reveal his findings. How is this representative of your work? Or is it simply something that people need to hear? 

Well, the work I was presenting was work that I had completed about six months prior to the event. Having moved away from some of the motivations and ideas behind the work, I felt strongly that I wasn’t going to be able to speak authentically about them. This is not to say that I don’t remember those ideas, or that they aren’t still valuable or real—they are. But I thought that the excerpt from “Siddartha” was a more telling, a more articulate and authentic representation of the motivations and ideas that I am working through presently. I thought perhaps that it would be more interesting, given the limitations of the talk and the limitations of my work, to offer old work paired with (what were to me) new ideas versus old work paired with old ideas.

After a prompt by Rachel Cook at that same event, you revealed that you’ve only recently come to terms with accepting the idea of being an artist. What played into this transition? Was there any sort of epiphany that led to your acceptance of it?

A large part of my being able to accept the idea that I could be an artist was realizing that many artists have difficulty with this same issue. Feeling commonality and companionship with others has consistently gifted me the courage to empower myself and share the knowledge that I have gained with others. While the companionship with other artists serves as a comfort- I have to forge my own individualized journey. A larger goal of mine, a milestone I wanted to accomplish, was to pursue an MFA in studio art. When I accepted admission to an MFA program, it was such an overwhelming commitment- it allowed me to accept a little more ownership of choices and therefore my identity.

In New York, you began working in soft sculpture – textiles, fabrics, etc. Why did this material appeal to you more than others? 

There are a lot of reasons. Here is just one, having to do with practicalities: teaching myself to sew and working with fabric was within my means, both in terms of available money and space.

In our last conversation, you suggested that a lot of artists working with textiles have something hurting them or holding them back, and you gave the example of Louise Bourgeois dealing with relationships in her family. For you, fabric, and the sculpting of fabric, acts as a process of healing or nurturing. Can you expand on this idea? 

For me, art is about expressing oneself authentically. I know this sounds clichéd, but it’s true! In addition, art for me is about playing—pretending, letting go of my seriousness, testing out ideas, living in the imagination, even just amusing myself. Once I began to intentionally create art, I started to think about children as a source of inspiration. I thought especially about my own childhood—that place where my own schemas are rooted. Once I finished making them, I realized that my soft sculptures expressed the way that I, as a small and vulnerable child, had projected my too-difficult-to-deal-with emotions onto toy-like objects. Creating my own toy-like objects in adulthood gave me a way to actively mold and strengthen my emotional maturity in real time. Louise Bourgeois’ example, her history and her work, opened the door for me in countless ways. She continues to be my most formative inspiration.

Specifically, this idea of healing or handling issues made me think of your piece “A Self Divided” – fabric bodies trapped inside mesh stairs. While beforehand it appeared darker to me, you mentioned that it had more to do with stepping over yourself or not letting yourself get in your own way. Did you find that sculpting this piece helped you accomplish that? 

I did! But this particular piece is speaking to a generational issue. Many people of my generation—the Millennials—grew up being coddled by our parents. As a cohort, I think we were petted and encouraged and told that we were all winners; our teachers and parents alike tried hard to avoid hurting our self-esteem. The amount of positive feedback we received throughout our schooling meant that sometimes we didn’t really face disappointment until after we had graduated from college and had to make our way in the real world. And of course we’re the generation that had to try to find gainful employment during the height of a serious recession! But, the thing is, we hadn’t had very much practice at failing. As a consequence, we have had to collectively learn to “get over ourselves.” A Self Divided, was about me literally stepping over my past selves—which were ruled by a fear of failure—and refusing to let them get in my way. It was about growing up and moving forward in an intentional and creative way. But beyond the specifics of this piece, I think creating any work at this early stage in my career always helps me move forward.

As you work to expand your portfolio before you head off to grad school in Chicago, do feel pulled in any specific direction in terms of the materials you want to work with? What are you working on now? 

I think I need some time to explore different kinds of materials so that I can figure out what they mean to me. I am ready to join an increased knowledge base about materiality to the depth and strength of my ability to conceptualize. So I’m in the process of exploring; my energy is directed toward trying out new things. In the meantime, I am keeping a sketchbook and working mostly on drawings.