2008 Woodie Awards
Dario Robletto's Chrysanthemum Anthems an historical balm
A look into the work of UNCG's Falk Visiting Artist
Travis Diehl
Issue date: 10/17/06 Section: Arts & Entertainment
The materials from which Dario Robleto constructs the finely wrought pieces in this exhibition are neither priceless nor irreplaceable. The army uniforms and wartime correspondence that become his artwork are not of museum quality.
"The work's not about defacing materials," said Robleto during a gallery presentation, part of his Falk Visiting Artist residency. "All these things are forgotten."
Instead, what is historical about these antebellum paper wreathes and longing letters is the care with which they have been reassembled. Through his work, the artist is giving new life to old materials, most of which are donated by the families of the lost, and in doing so he reinvigorates the memory of war. Said Robleto, "They think the artistic process is going to do something to [the materials they donate], and that's what I believe."
One cannot ignore Robleto's exhibitions in the context of current wars. Yet the work is consciously rooted in the aesthetic of past conflicts. Materials used date only up to the first Gulf War. Robleto's borrowed techniques go back to the Victorian era and the Civil War. And he is cautious not to limit a piece to a certain conflict. In one central piece, WWII-era carrier pigeon message capsules hang from the branches of a small tree. Yet similar capsules saw use in the First World War, and birds were used to carry notes as far back as the Civil War. Further, the containers hold pulled strands of audiotape of a recording of Walt Whitman reading his poem "America." Robleto's various methods and references may have specific origins in the past, but the way he puts them together is decidedly contemporary; his collected metaphors become symbols of the whole of American wars.
Robleto was a DJ in San Antonio before he started making art objects, and DJ culture - sampling, mixing, and assembling from disparate sources - is very much a part of his method. One of the more fascinating manifestations of this influence is the artist's use of audio tape as a physical material. In addition to the nest-like clumps of tape in the message capsules, Robleto also weaves thinly stretched magnetic tape into "hair flowers," symbols of mourning traditionally made by the families of the deceased from locks of the dead soldier's hair. Several of these beautiful and eerily hair-like braids decorate Robleto's wreathes. Here, widely different customs are literally woven together into some significant whole: a modern recording, a 19th century rite.
The artist's attention to detail is astounding, especially concerning his choice of material. The audio tapes contain meaningful speech or music before being transformed; the colored paper he recycles to make his flower-covered wreathes is made from military telegrams, death notices or soldiers' letters home. One piece, "The Button Collector," is a drawer containing one bone button made from each bone in the human body. Metal frames and other cast objects are made from bullet lead and shrapnel collected from the battlefield. The wood of other frames, such as willow or wormy chestnut, is chosen for its symbolic or medicinal purposes. Said Robleto, "When I'm doing this stuff, it takes a toll. I know what I'm touching."
His broad pacifist statement is not accusatory. Instead, Robleto seeks healing through ritual, through the "continuation of creative gestures" begun by real people out of real grief in the real past. In this way, there is a suturing sense of unity in the work. Robleto takes an aesthetic originated by novices, long considered craft, and uses his mysterious status as an "artist" to reactivate the materials he uses. He sees himself as a shaman, somehow charging what he touches with significance in the same way as those who wrote the letters and fired the bullets first charged these artifacts. His work propels the macabre energy of wars and mourning into the present day on a physical, material, molecular level so that we will not forget, so that we will still be touched, so that the medicinal power of suffering will not be lost.
Dario Robleto: Chrysanthemum Anthems is on display at the Weatherspoon until Dec. 17.
"The work's not about defacing materials," said Robleto during a gallery presentation, part of his Falk Visiting Artist residency. "All these things are forgotten."
Instead, what is historical about these antebellum paper wreathes and longing letters is the care with which they have been reassembled. Through his work, the artist is giving new life to old materials, most of which are donated by the families of the lost, and in doing so he reinvigorates the memory of war. Said Robleto, "They think the artistic process is going to do something to [the materials they donate], and that's what I believe."
One cannot ignore Robleto's exhibitions in the context of current wars. Yet the work is consciously rooted in the aesthetic of past conflicts. Materials used date only up to the first Gulf War. Robleto's borrowed techniques go back to the Victorian era and the Civil War. And he is cautious not to limit a piece to a certain conflict. In one central piece, WWII-era carrier pigeon message capsules hang from the branches of a small tree. Yet similar capsules saw use in the First World War, and birds were used to carry notes as far back as the Civil War. Further, the containers hold pulled strands of audiotape of a recording of Walt Whitman reading his poem "America." Robleto's various methods and references may have specific origins in the past, but the way he puts them together is decidedly contemporary; his collected metaphors become symbols of the whole of American wars.
Robleto was a DJ in San Antonio before he started making art objects, and DJ culture - sampling, mixing, and assembling from disparate sources - is very much a part of his method. One of the more fascinating manifestations of this influence is the artist's use of audio tape as a physical material. In addition to the nest-like clumps of tape in the message capsules, Robleto also weaves thinly stretched magnetic tape into "hair flowers," symbols of mourning traditionally made by the families of the deceased from locks of the dead soldier's hair. Several of these beautiful and eerily hair-like braids decorate Robleto's wreathes. Here, widely different customs are literally woven together into some significant whole: a modern recording, a 19th century rite.
The artist's attention to detail is astounding, especially concerning his choice of material. The audio tapes contain meaningful speech or music before being transformed; the colored paper he recycles to make his flower-covered wreathes is made from military telegrams, death notices or soldiers' letters home. One piece, "The Button Collector," is a drawer containing one bone button made from each bone in the human body. Metal frames and other cast objects are made from bullet lead and shrapnel collected from the battlefield. The wood of other frames, such as willow or wormy chestnut, is chosen for its symbolic or medicinal purposes. Said Robleto, "When I'm doing this stuff, it takes a toll. I know what I'm touching."
His broad pacifist statement is not accusatory. Instead, Robleto seeks healing through ritual, through the "continuation of creative gestures" begun by real people out of real grief in the real past. In this way, there is a suturing sense of unity in the work. Robleto takes an aesthetic originated by novices, long considered craft, and uses his mysterious status as an "artist" to reactivate the materials he uses. He sees himself as a shaman, somehow charging what he touches with significance in the same way as those who wrote the letters and fired the bullets first charged these artifacts. His work propels the macabre energy of wars and mourning into the present day on a physical, material, molecular level so that we will not forget, so that we will still be touched, so that the medicinal power of suffering will not be lost.
Dario Robleto: Chrysanthemum Anthems is on display at the Weatherspoon until Dec. 17.
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