Folding Suns or in debt to promises

Adler Guerrier, Untitled (…whispered intelligence lurking in the leaves; Painted Bunting), 2020-2024. Photo collage, 71 1/2 x 46 1/2 inches. Courtesy of the artist and Marisa Newman Projects.

Folding Suns connects artists from the Western New York Region with those from Puerto Rico and the American South; it poses sun and water as real and metaphorical binding agents across geography, time, and identity.

Curated by: Pablo Guardiola

Pablo Guardiola is a visual artist. His work points to different modes of narration and how these are perceived and understood. Recently he curated with Yina Jiménez Suriel, one month after being known in that island (ways of working in the Caribbean). He is co-director of Beta-Local, an arts non-profit dedicated to support and promote contemporary art practices and aesthetic thought in Puerto Rico.

Featured Artists:

Genesis Baez
Chango4
Claudia Caremi
Adler Guerrier
Gregory Halpern
Ahndraya Parlato
Silas Rubeck
Paul B. Thulin

The Buffalo Institute for Contemporary Art, August 02, 2024 – September 21, 2024.


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The Guggenheim Bilbao was hardly the first iconic building, but it was the first to be credited with a measurable economic spin-off. And while that temporarily elevated the status of architects to near deities, it proved detrimental in the long run. After the Guggenheim, architecture was never quite the same. A single building had defied all expectation, only for expectations to defy all of architecture ever since. Economic success became the measure of architecture’s quality, to which architecture, in turn, had no choice but to apply itself. Architecture found itself in debt to promises it didn’t make and ultimately can’t fulfill. After Bilbao, ambitious museum projects could only fail. And they did.

architect, verb The New Language of Building, Reinier de Graaf

To succeed in life a man must be adaptable.

Claudia Roth Pierpont’s The Florentine, in the New Yorker (2008), came back at the right time. Niccolò Machiavelli’s writings are central to the moral-ethical-effective discourses on power and how to rule.

““The Prince” offered the first major secular shock to the Christianized state in which we still live. Long before Darwin, Machiavelli showed us a credible world without Heaven or Hell, a world of “is” rather than “should be,” in which men were coolly viewed as related to beasts and earthly government was the only hope of bettering our natural plight.

[…]

Erasmus, whose “Education of a Christian Prince” was written two years after Machiavelli’s work—he presented his treatise first to Charles of Aragon and, after it failed to elicit the desired financial result, to Henry VIII—spun his pious counsel around the central thesis “What must be implanted deeply and before all else in the mind of the prince is the best possible understanding of Christ.” Machiavelli, on the other hand, proposed the best possible understanding of the methods of Cesare Borgia.

[…]

To succeed in life a man must be adaptable. This is a prime lesson of “The Prince,” and Machiavelli appears to have been determined to live by it. A republican during the republic, a royal servant when princes rule: “He who conforms his course of action to the quality of the times will fare well.”

[…]

But a corollary, if contradictory, lesson of “The Prince” is that, try as he might, “man cannot deviate from that to which nature inclines him.” In composing his Medici-commissioned history, Machiavelli agonized over how to present the Medici, and the result is anything but the work of a courtier. Recounting how the family’s desire to “wield exclusive power” had led it to crush all political opposition, leaving other parties with no alternative except plots and murderous conspiracies, he concluded bluntly that under the Medici regime “liberty was unknown in Florence.”


Untitled(early morn might as well)