Susan Arapicio
reyna’s first meal, 2022
Susan Arapicio
reyna’s first meal, 2022
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Jose Guadalupe Sanchez III
Jose Guadalupe Sanchez III
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Susan Aparicio
Susan Aparicio
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Susan Arapicio
Susan Arapicio
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Jose Guadalupe Sanchez III
Jose Guadalupe Sanchez III
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Cash-Cooper
Cash-Cooper
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Cash-Cooper
Cash-Cooper
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Cash-Cooper
Cash-Cooper
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Cash-Cooper
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Susan Arapicio
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Jose Guadalupe Sanchez III
Jose Guadalupe Sanchez III
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Susan Aparicio
Susan Aparicio
Full Screen Image
Susan Arapicio
Full Screen Image
UTA Artist Space recently sponsored the exhibition tender reverie: mending of the heart curated by USC Roski alumnus Kevy (Haiyang) Yang at Soho Warehouse in Downtown LA. The exhibition features an eclectic and multigenerational group of artists rooted in Los Angeles, featuring new and existing works of Susan Aparicio, Andrea Aragon, Cami Árboles, mika Castañeda, Cash-Cooper, Loren Leblanc, Richard Nam, Harper Paradowski, Judie Adaobi, Jose Guadalupe Sanchez III, Michon Sanders, Lainey Racah, John Paul Fauves and Rob Woodcox.
On February 12, 2024, Kevy Yang and Harrison Tenzer, Senior Director of UTA Artist Space, conducted an interview to discuss the resonant themes of tender reverie with a focus on artists Susan Aparicio, Cash-Cooper and Jose Guadalupe Sanchez III— selections from this conversation are below.
How did the idea for tender reverie: mending of the heart come to you?
The idea of tender reverie came from a conversation with my friend Jose (Guadalupe Sanchez III). When I see his work, the first word that comes to my mind is “tender.” I found it fascinating that “tender” could be used to describe both a physical and an emotional state of being. Your body could be tender after a workout, and your heart could be tender when it is yearning for care. Jose’s paintings are often a portal into the layered experiences of varying Brown social realities in L.A., where memories, fantasies, and realities collide. His creative process is essentially the building of intimacy, which requires tenderness, as the term is defined as being sensitive and gentle to pain. He and I connected on this idea of “tender disagreement” – how intimacy isn’t some grand gesture but tiny moments, some uncomfortable but necessary, that take place across many lifetimes. When our differences collide, regardless of whether it’s between family or strangers, the path to a loving truth isn’t one side conceding their reality. It is when all perspectives are considered and revealed. When we disagree, new knowledge can be unlocked because we are challenging each other’s belief systems and revealing new angles to this fluid and evolving thing. Your desire and fantasy may differ from mine, but through reverie, which is a state of being pleasantly lost in someone’s thoughts, we can arrive at a point of mutual misunderstanding. A place where you and I both realize the limits and subjectivity of our lived experiences, a.k.a. our building blocks. “tender reverie: mending of the heart” is the readiness to shed something behind, to daydream and swim in someone else’s thoughts as our differences crash beautifully. For as long as we are tender in the ways we disagree, we will always leave things better than we found them- human beings especially.
There is an excellent diversity of media in the show – ceramics, installation, photography, painting, etc. Was it important to you that the exhibition includes artists that work across media?
I feel that the physical venue, which is this steampunk boiler room-turned-gallery with a bar and stage, required, in a way, a diversity of media. Many artists featured in the exhibition already work across multiple media in their practice. My hope was that the art in the space and the materials from which they were made could exist in fluid conversation with one another. For example, Susan Aparicio’s vibrant wall piece, cosmology of a brown sky, highlights the longing for generational intimacy. Her assemblage of stained glass, chains, and house paint nods to the precarity of familial protection in unprecedented times, as well as the resourcefulness of her diasporic identity. If we shift our gaze to the left and right of Susan’s work, we can see Jose Guadalupe Sanchez III’s two acrylic and oil paintings, Canh and Enchiladas rojas con arroz y frijoles, on their respective walls. They, too, point to the theme of family protection, but this time, through the lens of food and memory.
Why did you select these specific artists?
To practice tender disagreement, the ability to be patient and soft with ourselves is a prerequisite. Cash’s paintings have this meditative quality that brings out a version of me that I enjoy. A less reactive and more present me, so to speak. There is so much happening in those works of his, worlds in collision and seemingly organized chaos? His art is a stunningly accurate metaphor for the beauty hidden behind clashing thoughts and belief systems. Even when something brutal seems to be happening in the world Cash creates, you still get this sense of exaltation no matter where you rest your eyes. Everything in his ink and gouache universe is the ultimate freeze frame, an invitation to animate his paintings in our minds. There is no strict narrative, only room for projection and improvisation to dissolve into our feelings. His work is a litmus test revealing our deepest fantasies and desires. Is it war? Is it power? Is it magic? Is it intimacy? Is it worship? I chose Cash’s work because I love that his art allows people to find meaning in relation to their own background. I chose his work because the first step towards tender reverie is to give up control and lose yourself in someone else’s thoughts.
And if Cash’s work is the emotional lingering of “tenderness,” then I consider Susan Aparicio’s art to be the physical manifestation of that same word. It crossed my mind that there are some parallels between her and Jose’s art as they both, in their own way, explore the joy and heartaches of the Latinidad spirit. But that is all the more reason for their body of works to be in conversation with one another. Susan’s choice to use stained glass as a medium makes for an exciting dialogue surrounding material worship in our Western reality of capitalism. I love what Susan said in her artist bio: she creates what her friends, family, and herself never owned but were told to strive for endlessly. Her sentiment and art decommodify what was once untouchable for her community. Her artistic practice is a living example of fantasy bleeding into reality in the most beautiful of ways. I chose her works because when it comes to mending matters of the heart, one must reject the binary notion that fantasies and realities are in opposition. We have to understand that they add to each other. Building a better reality requires us to have an active fantasy life. I had hoped for the viewers to consider what happens after tender disagreements. Simply understanding that we live in different realities is only the beginning. To move forward, we must lean into our fantasies to create a world better than the one we are given.
How did you discover that you are a curator and then pursue that path?
Curation called to me organically. Since I was little, I have always enjoyed curating the little things in life – music, room decors, clothing, vision boards. Being an adopted kid who grew up across three different continents, my worldview was very chaotic but in an eclectic way. It took me a while to grow into my confidence, but I was blessed with beautiful friends who helped me believe in my own creative thinking. They trusted my taste and ability to create an ambiance, whether a playlist, a photoshoot, or inspo for their room makeover. When I arrived in L.A. for university, I gravitated toward writing and film-making. There is something so tantalizing about remixing one’s reality into fiction so you can reimagine your past decisions. I love a good story. Movies and books kept me from being alone and made me feel like I was part of something larger. During uni, I fell in love with spoken word poetry and started doing fashion editorial shoots for fun. Through the poetry and photography communities, I met like-minded artists who encouraged me to take on the role of an event organizer. My first curated show was a poetry and music experience on the second floor of the Hammer Museum dedicated to the stories of migration; the event was called “The Long Journey of Rotting.” That experience made me realize how powerful art is as a utility of belief, which eventually led me to join the USC Roski School of Art as a member of the curatorial studies cohort.
We are excited to see more of your shows! What plans/projects do you have planned for 2024?
Thank you! Right now, I am drawn toward the live programming aspect of curation. Especially when it pertains to culture and experiences that echo the sentiments of their community. For the first half of 2024, I will travel to Shanghai and Toronto! My goal is to work with alternative art spaces while I am out there to spotlight the new wave of artists thriving in these cities. If the stars align, I would love to collaborate with UTA Artist Space LA at some point, too.