There’s a compelling, pleasingly profane exhibit running for two more weeks at the Museo de las Artes (the University of Guadalajara’s modern art museum), featuring a generous pirate’s booty of collaborative canvases authored by veteran Mexican artists Juan Carlos Macias and Victor Hugo Perez, two men with wildly contrasting aesthetics.
Like cheese with seafood, this aesthetic union’s success would, perhaps, be viewed with skepticism in traditionally minded quarters, but is all the more triumphant for actually achieving lift off and orbit in the artistic firmament.
The show is called “Hembra,” which is a species-non-specific term in Spanish meaning “female.” Unlike so much modern art, the show’s name actually relates to its content, with every canvas – the vast majority done in charcoal and graphite – featuring one or several member of the distaff.
But while the “hembras” depicted are more specifically members of that special aristocracy (homo sapiens) busy for the last few millennia having its way with Earth as if she were a village peasant’s daughter, they seem to embody an elemental, almost feral, ferocity that transcends species. They’re more like latter-day maenads, the unpredictable, violent, sensually inclined consorts of Dionysus in Greek myth.