At a Frenzied Frieze, ektor garcia Offers Moments of Pause – SURFACE

Source Credit:  Content and images from Surface Magazine by .  Read the original article -

Here, we ask an artist to frame the essential details behind one of their latest works.

Your name: ektor garcia.

Your age: 37 according to some calendars. I feel much older and much younger too—it’s all relative. 

Where you’re based: At the moment, in New York; my main studio and casita are located in Mexico City. I tend to enjoy working nomadically at different studios in different parts of the world. Never playing it the same way twice. I often travel for work and produce on-site. I may be here one month and in the next, on another continent. It all depends on the work’s needs.

Instagram: A tool I don’t enjoy using. It’s more work than fun for me. I prefer IRL, but I see its potential as a work tool to connect folks and raise awareness and funds. I don’t enjoy the ads, the algorithm, or the folks behind the whole thing. I do fuck with it and if you would like to engage, my handle is @ektorgracias

Title of work: la llorona (2023). 

Where to see it: Frieze New York at The Shed (545 W 30 St) until May 21.

Three words to describe it: Tears, solid, porous.

What was on your mind at the time: The circular nature of my work, my devotion to nature and the natural, and how the la llorona legend has haunted me over the years and come up again and again in my work and life. I recently gave a visiting artist talk at UCLA and Parsons, where I shared slides from my time in Chicago over the years and noticed how my body is always drawn to bodies of water like la llorona. I recently went to MoMA to see Black Power Naps by Navild Acosta and Sosa. I’ve heard of it for so long, and in their La Biblioteca Is Open installation I noticed a Gloria Anzaldúa children’s book titled Prietita and the Ghost Woman/Prietita Y La Llorona. As soon as I opened it, several pages spilled out onto the floor. I laughed at this and felt it was surprisingly related to my work and investigation of the myth of la llorona.

An interesting feature that’s not immediately noticeable: The blood, sweat, and tears behind this body and all the bodies of work my body has been able to help create. The amount of time and travel that go into producing or moving and birthing these works, also the chaotic and unstable nature of my production.

How it reflects your practice as a whole: Like a foggy mirror, sometimes reflecting my inner landscapes, sometimes clouding everything and inviting new readings or experiences. Time, labor, travel, patina, care, love, and many other things feel so embedded in the work that I often wonder if I should list them in the materials list. Sometimes I don’t recognize myself in the work or see or learn from it—it feels alien to me. Other times, I learn so much just by listening to the pieces/installations.

One song that captures its essence: Impossible to pick one. “La Llorona” by Chavela Vargas comes to mind first, but a song is a whole other artwork, and I find it impossible to capture the essence of my work in someone else’s song. I hope my work can sing for itself. All you have to do is listen.

(All photography by Jason Mandella/courtesy of James Fuentes.)

Source Credit:  Content and images from Surface Magazine by .  Read the original article -