On one level, Christian Curiel’s painting of the woman by the water is realistic; she’s sitting in a natural position, not like she’s posing for a picture, but like she’s just gotten out of the water. But ritual soaks the atmosphere around her, in the way her face is painted, the flowers in her hair, the candles floating on the water. Then there are the shapes in the air around her that have no place in a realistic painting, as if Curiel has made visual the intangible spiritual act that has just taken place. In the end, though, you might say the key to the whole painting is the cinderblock at her feet. It looks at first like it’s resting in the shallows, but the woman’s feet suggest the water’s deeper than that. Is the cinderblock floating in the water? Are all the rocks floating as well?
The painting is part of “Christian Curiel: Between Reveries,” organized by Kalia Brooks and Victoria McCraven and running now at NXTHVN through Nov. 28. Curiel, a New Haven- and Miami-based artist, “creates open-ended, narrative paintings that at first seem to depict banal events, yet upon closer examination — abnormal actions, elements, or characters emerge,” reads an accompanying statement. “Inspired by magic realism and the current human condition, Curiel’s work mixes the real and unreal aspects of dream states as reflections on Latin American cultural and literary references, as well as elements of ritual, mystery, and symbolism. The works are a collision of themes related to migration, immigration, belonging and identity placed within the complex, highly emotional coded world of youth.” His work “represents the confusion and fragility of coming of age as the embodiment of the struggle for identity and a sense of belonging. The work also explores the influence memories and dreams have on the construction of identity.”
Curiel’s work also pulls equally from disparate places for inspiration. “Curiel spends a lot of time looking at art history as well as fashion magazines, newspapers and various media for gestures in figures that convey a sense of transitioning,” the accompanying statement continues. “He tends to work on various paintings and drawings at once, building a body of work that communicates with each other. His work reflects both the environmental surroundings as well as the socio-political temperatures that inform the human experience.”
A keen sense of humanity comes through in all of Curiel’s paintings. The painter is deeply sympathetic; he cares about his subjects. Taken together, the paintings feel like a photo album, of family, or friends and acquaintances who might as well be family. Sometimes (as above) the paintings use iconography familiar to anyone who’s seen Renaissance art, or for that matter, stepped foot inside a church.
The halos in some paintings help contextualize the other paintings, cluing the viewer in to the way Curiel is working. The shapes around the subject in another painting, for instance, can be understood as a new kind of iconography, suggesting a new system for understanding the physical and spiritual world, opening up new possibilities for how we identify ourselves and our places in it.
Sometimes Curiel mixes the two, to great effect. The viewer is invited, on one hand, to contrast the halo around the woman’s head with the flurry of light around the man’s. That can suggest tension; the halo might be seen as constricting energy in one person that’s set free in the other. But it can also suggest cohabitation, a way for the people to get along, and richer still, a way for their disparate beliefs to commingle and change. Or is the man in the tie even there? Perhaps the woman is remembering him. Or is it the other way around?
As the accompanying text suggests, the questions are open-ended. Curiel’s paintings aren’t puzzles to be solved. But immersing yourself in his unique visual language can yield moving results, as in this painting of a seated woman. She’s at rest, though her expression is hard to read. It could range anywhere from relaxation to grief, or perhaps she’s caught up in a moment where memories, thoughts, and feelings are rushing together. There’s power, energy, in the air. Is she being sapped of color? Is she disappearing? Or is she transforming herself into something new? Curiel’s paintings are collage-like in the way they combine familiar elements, and the weight of those elements can create a melancholic undercurrent to his work. But the energy with which he paints imbues it all, ultimately, with a sense of possibility for change. There is struggle, but also an abiding sense that it’s worth it.
“Christian Curiel: Between Reveries” runs at NXTHVN, 169 Henry St., through Nov. 28. Visit NXTHVN’s website for hours and more information.
