Pair of Tijuana Shows Too Narrow in Vision

San Diego hardly deserves the epithet of a sleepy border town, but in terms of recognizing artists living just on the other side of the line, this city has slumbered long and deep.

Like the country at large, however, the city awoke with a start last year and began to make up for lost time. Regular exhibitions of Mexican art have shown at the Iturralde Gallery (formerly La Casa del Arte), and the La Jolla Museum of Contemporary Art organized a show of Tijuana artists for its downtown space, Sushi gallery played host to two shows of Tijuana artists, and an exhibition of contemporary Mexican art has been seen at Mesa and Palomar colleges.

Each had its share of compelling work, and each introduced a local audience to currents of activity that had not passed through San Diego with such vigor before. None, however, claimed to be a comprehensive survey of its territory, and viewers were left to wonder what else may have been overlooked while the city’s attention to the south lay dormant.

Two current shows at the Centro Cultural Tijuana (Paseo de los Heroes, Tijuana) address that curiosity by presenting the work of more than 40 artists living in Tijuana--all of the “serious” artists there, according to a representative of the center.

One show, “Elogio a Tijuana,” delivers a eulogy, or declaration of praise, for the city through a survey of its artists. The other, “Grupo Centenario,” presents work made specifically in honor of the city’s centennial this year by 10 artists working loosely as a collective.

Both shows contain work that is broad in range but overall narrow in vision. Except for a handful of engaging paintings, the shows threaten to lull even the most eager visitor back into the sleepy ignorance that characterized our southward gaze for so long.

Tijuana’s own dynamic growth, its status as a thoroughfare for immigrants heading north, its extremes of wealth and poverty and numerous facets of its history would seem to be fertile subjects for the artists in the “Grupo Centenario” show. Most, however, adopt a static, shallow approach to their theme, representing the city through images of its architectural landmarks nestled within decorative compositions.

The bland tone of these works is broken only briefly, by the thoughtful work of Manolo Luis Escutia and a collage by Alejandro Chanona. An Escutia triptych pays homage to the anonymous women who work in maquiladoras; in another work, he visualizes the city’s history as a montage of human and material products, both bearing strong imprints of American influence.

In “Las Cien Tes” (“One Hundred Ts”), Escutia examines the letter T, finding its vertical and horizontal lines to be symbols of hope and frustration and, together, an appropriate emblem for the city of Tijuana. He repeats the letter on 100 sheets of paper, forming each with a different pattern or image that represents an aspect of the city. This approach, with its political, agricultural and cultural references, encourages a multifaceted reading of the city, not one limited to its physical appearance.

Chanona’s collage, “T. J. Cien Anos” (“T.J. 100 Years”), also provokes thought about the city’s character and the challenges it faces. All but one corner of the collage is smothered by a dense patchwork of clothing tags, references to Tijuana’s status as a haven for American bargain hunters. In the one quiet corner, only two labels appear. One bears the words One Way and an arrow pointing up to the jumble of tags, and the other advertises a “Total Selloff,” to which the artist has added the emblem of the Mexican flag and the words T.J. 100 Anos .

Through this small intervention, Chanona expresses a sharp note of concern about the Americanization and exploitation of Tijuana. In the accompanying wall label, he shares his cynical hope that in 100 years, when the city celebrates its bicentennial, people will still be speaking Spanish and eating tacos.

The adjacent exhibition, “Elogio a Tijuana,” is crowded with weak, facile imagery, forced enigmas and failed fantasies. Only a few of the artists included manage to convey a strong personal vision or style.

Felipe Almada’s “El Jaguar,” for instance, a simple yet bold rendering of a jaguar being struck down by an anonymous, all-powerful hand, evokes a narrative of mythic proportion. In an untitled photograph by Ana Maria Herrera, a sculpture of a male torso stands amid the deep shadows of an abandoned building. The surrogate human presence exudes a mystery and surreal magnetism akin to the subjects of Mexico’s photographic patriarch, Manuel Alvarez Bravo.

The soul of the show is not to be found in these scattered impressions, however, but in the grouping of 2 dozen paintings by Benjamin Serrano Banuet, who died last year. The exhibition begins with his relatively staid, environmental portraits of a prominent Tijuana family, then jumps abruptly to a whimsical self-portrait.

Here, the artist playfully pinches the conventions of dignified portraiture that rule the preceding paintings by appearing shirtless, wearing a folded paper hat and false nose, and playing a violin to an oversized green apple.

Serrano was a prolific artist whose paintings, prints and sculptural assemblages embody the wisdom of dreams and the whimsical spirit of games. Though this selection of his works is spotty and includes none of his brilliantly funny sculptures, it does hint at the richness of his personal vocabulary. Impossible flying contraptions sputter about among turtles with wings, fish with human heads, people with paper-doll tabs and women ripe with sexuality.

Several of the artists in “Elogio a Tijuana” emulate Serrano’s spree through the realms of fantasy and dreams, but none matches his passion and wit.

“Elogio a Tijuana” was organized by the Centro’s new director, Pedro Ochoa Palacio, to mark the first visit by the director of the Consejo Nacional para la Cultura y las Artes. Both shows continue at the center through Aug. 14.