Por Gaby Cepeda
The first solo show in Mexico City by young Ecuadorian artist Pablo Andino opened during the city’s Art Week, but it worked even better a few days after all the brouhaha was over: “Como un tiro, un clavel” (Like a Shot, a Carnation) excelled at capturing the hangover. The ambience of the installation felt laden, the air smoky, the floor slightly sticky. In the middle of the room stood an odd structure, an open circle made out of concrete, each half of which was fixed with a curved railing. It nodded to the idea of a sunken dance floor, or one of those ridiculously restricted VIP areas where three or four miserable rich kids bounce off-beat with their paid companions, bottles in hand.
The rest of the exhibition skirted the periphery of this esoteric structure, vestiges of a phantasmal party only obliquely suggesting bodies or the leftovers of sensual, gluttonous consumption. On the walls hung four unusual sconces, shaped like fried turkey legs and bearing candles that dripped their milky wax all over them.
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