Borderline is a group of images exploring topography and territoriality. It's a simple concept, tracing a line. But once it cuts through a body - human or earth-body - a roar emerges. This surging voice from the perspective of an individual, people or land is what is being explored - a sort of manifesto.

Once a line is drawn, what is owned, and what is not, becomes palpable; Belonging and longing merges, And a heightened peripheral vision is inevitable. A sensorial mapping and a scanning of our own surfaces takes place, as a question glides over it all: how could we possibly think individuals, people or land are ever contained by dotted lines.

In today's landscape where appropriation and zoning are used as solutions to an economic, political and social crisis, what becomes evident is the borderline disorder of governments. The U.S. border portrayed could be easily interchanged by the Turkish-Syrian border, Burmese-Bangladeshian border, Israeli-Gaza border, Spanish-Catalan border or the Brazillian-Venezuelan border where my own country of origin has lately been facing tensions. The writing on the glass frame is erasable, removable, impermanent, transient like borderlines eventually are.

Borderline Statement

In this art installation, a photograph is displayed along side a series of data charts representing bird observations of twelve native species from the Northeast of the United States. these are the same 12 birds included on a kitsch and common wall clock which features a bird song for each hour of the day. 

Initially these species were represented on a clock dial because of it’s wide spread presence in our habitat, now their display on a ticking-clock is a reminder of possible extinctions. Two-thirds of North American Birds are estimated to be at risk of extinction due to Climate Change. This work is a record of time. A moment in time. 2020. when a bird clock sang my isolation. Hour by hour. 

In the context of a world pandemic, the significant role of birds as an indicator species of climate change is intertwined with the ancient symbolism of birds as the guides of souls to the otherworld. In ancient Greece they were called psycopomps. 

This artwork based on citizen-collected-scientific-data is a visual interpretation of that which one day might no longer exist, as much as it is a visual representation of those who, since 2020, are no longer with us.  

They now fly.

Bird Clock

The coronavirus is spread mainly among those who are in close contact with one another within a 6 feet radius. This negative space where no interaction is permitted is here represented as circumferences over a series of family photos and everyday objects. 

As an immune-deficient individual, I was impeded of having contact with my family. Like so many, I was separated by state mandates of no travel, and the fear of mutual contamination. The 6FT social distancing becomes almost a solace: “even if we were together, we would be apart”.

An invisible sphere separates within from without. Like A cell membrane. When over photographs I’ve taken over the years of my family the circles become an evocation for protection.

These spheres are reminders of the cellular connection between all matter and a symbolic shield of immunity, a sort of geometric spell so nothing penetrates their membranes.

Membranes

Using my family’s archive and images of my own childhood I started to play with words - “mine” as a noun, and a possessive pronoun. But these two words quickly signified only one thing: that which is taken without permission. Once defined as a mine the terrain is subjugated to desecration and exploitation. No better symbol to such acts than “Serra Curral Del Rey” - a mountain ridge in the brazilian state of Minas Gerais which corralled and gently embraced my existence and that of the inhabitants of my hometown of Belo Horizonte as I grew up.  

I traced its slopes from memory, as I’ve seen it through my child-eyes. The mountain is drawn over each photo - it’s by my feet when it was in front of me; above my head when behind me, and sometimes so close by my side, I could touch it.  

In this work the drawn ridge becomes a revealing layer - from negative to positive - bringing into light the hidden secrets of the mountain and that of my body - we were both continually corrupted and pillaged, we were both being abused. Little by little we sustained devastation and loss while keeping our facades intact. By labeling the mountain-body and the child-body with the word “mine” these facts can no longer be ignored.

Of that mountain now only remains a hollowed shell. I hope to prevent humans from such un-souling. a reclaiming of the body can take place, and ownership can be transferred back to whom it rightly belongs If The word “mine” is self-proclaimed. in this instance, sovereignty is restored and can no longer be taken away. Not without blunt infringement, violation and betrayal. Something the mountain knows too well. 

ThIs leads to the last bilingual word-play embedded in the type-setting of the title of this work. I am a so-called “MINEIRA” - someone from Minas Gerais. I tell it to anyone who cares to listen. And I have photographic proof of all stereotypical roles I’ve carried. Many of these photographs were taken during typical cultural events. But this romantic view of my origins. This idealized upbringing In a society ingrained In the mining culture means only one thing: I am a witness and an accomplice to multiple environmental crimes.
As the mountain watched over me, I watched as the mountain (and the other mountain, and another mountain…) was bluntly infringed, violated and betrayed. 

“Mine_ira” can now only be written with a hyphen. Not as mere finger-pointing full of rage (ira) against the mine and the men behind it, but as self-responsibility for my own silence and inertia - as “mea-culpa. By relinquishing victimhood and accepting my role as participator and spectator I am now in a position to unleash “mine-rage” and call forth the well overdue and deserved criminalization of the mining industry. You are criminals. We all are.

MINE_IRA

Art exhibition Sutured Resilience by artists Jennifer Cabral, Kat Cope and Chanika Svetvilas in August 2021 at Artworks in New Jersey. https://artworkstrenton.org/sutured-resilience/

Sutured Resilience | Introduction

WHITE STAINS  | Using public domain images of the iconic artist John James Audubon as the basis of my work, I provoke others to scrutinize the symbols and legacies we praise, and to look closely at the American culture that has been handed down for generations. 

Acknowledging the enormous achievements of Audubon in art and ornithology, must be accompanied by the reckoning of his practices of purchasing, selling and owning other humans. In addition to the perpetration of slavery, Audubon also relied on African Americans and Native Americans for their knowledge of the local fauna in order to execute the epitome of ornithology: “The Birds of America”. People of color were never acknowledge for their contributions. Although I am referring to distorted practices in the field of ornithology these mimic an array of so called “scientific methods” used legitimized the erroneous concept of the existence of a superior white “race” in the first place. 

The reduction to a smaller paper size from the original double-elephant folio prints created by Audubon reflects the diminishing stature in my eyes of scientific methods that view living creatures as specimens and property. This ownership is also extended to the practice of naming birds after individuals and permanently associating species to figures from our distressing colonial past.

White Stains

For the last day of the exhibition Sutured Resilience artists Chanika Svetvilas, Kat Cope and Jennifer Cabral wanted to create a spontaneous, interactive, and renewing gallery experience - an offering left behind to the community that visited Artworks Trenton in New Jersey.

They wanted to give the impression they had just been present in the gallery and a healing ceremony was taking place, welcoming visitors into an enveloping healing space. 

The artists conceptualized an immersive soundscape for the audience to experience while witnessing their art on the closing day of the exhibition. 

The soundscape available in the gallery was made possible by the collaboration with visual artist and musician Doreen Kirchner. Kirchner mixed spoken words by Chanika Svetvilas, the Irish Bohram drums of Kat Cope and the chanting and drumming sounds by Jennifer Cabral. Permeated by bird songs the recording produced by Kirchner became simultaneously stimulating and soothing to those who were present.

Individual paper bags with flower petals including an egg shaker were made available to visitors, so they could join the rhythm of the audio with the shakers and scatter flower petals where they would like to leave an offering to a work of art that resonates with them as a way to ground their experience. 

If you would like to immerse yourself in your own experience here are the same guidelines we provided to the audience. SOUND ON.

“Take a moment to listen and observe. Use this time to ground yourself in your body. When you feel ready, join the sound recording: you can chant, clap or dance. There is no right or wrong way. Enjoy yourself.”

Visitors were encouraged to use hashtag #suturedresilience to connect with each other creating a documentation of this event on social media.

#contemporaryart #artspaces #artexhibition 
#newjerseyarts #newjerseyartist #suturedresilience #summerart #artshow #newjerseyartist #newjerseyart #localartist #trentonnj #videoart #conceptualartist #artinstallation #artistsupport #artworkshop #virtualexhibition #artexhibition #summerexhibition #art #artcommunity #mercercountynj #princeton #mercercountyartists #centraljerseyarts #newjerseygalleryopenings #njartists #njgallery #njartgallery #3d #artisttalk #suturedresilience

Sutured Resilience Soundscape

A brief recording about the origins of the Barbabella Family.

Barbabellas

"I am a vast territory, you will never own. You don't course through me, I course through you. Hear my voice. Sound travels over you. My birthplace has been written. I am a living document. I have my own identity so don't tell me what I am not. Beware of where you cut me through because you die when I die."

This recording is a poem that accompanies a series of photographs I call Borderline. It's a group of images exploring topography and territoriality. It's a simple concept, tracing a line. But once it cuts through a body - human or earth-body - a roar emerges. This surging voice from the perspective of an individual, people or land is what is being explored - a sort of manifesto.

Once a line is drawn, what is owned, and what is not, becomes palpable; Belonging and longing merges, And a heightened peripheral vision is inevitable. A sensorial mapping and a scanning of our own surfaces takes place, as a question glides over it all: how could we possibly think individuals, people or land are ever contained by dotted lines.

In today's landscape where appropriation and zoning are used as solutions to an economic, political and social crisis, what becomes evident is the borderline disorder of governments. The U.S. border portrayed could be easily interchanged by the Turkish-Syrian border, Burmese-Bangladeshian border, Israeli-Gaza border, Spanish-Catalan border or the Brazillian-Venezuelan border where my own country of origin has lately been facing tensions.

A set of six silver-gelatin prints were the initial exploration. The writing on the glass frame is erasable, removable, impermanent, transient like borderlines eventually are.

jennifercabral