The sea floor, once considered an impenetrable mystery, has become what many now describe as the final frontier of a crowded world increasingly reliant on electronics. Even as hundreds of thousands of miles of private undersea internet cables wind their way around the world, the seabed is being mapped and apportioned for countries and companies to mine rare minerals, despite the environmental impact, to power electric cars. Taking these themes as starting points, Ánima Correa’s solo exhibition here examines the relationships between marine animals, fictitious infrastructure, and aspects of her personal history to examine broader social and anthropogenic issues related to technology, surveillance and underwater exploration.
Three sculptures inspired by Internet cables from the seabed of technological conglomerates, Repeater 01, Repeater 02And Repeater 03, all 2023, stretch from wall to wall, criss-crossing the center of the gallery and forcing viewers to navigate around them. Wrapped in electrical cords, seaweed and circuit boards, their smooth surfaces look wet and shiny, as if they’ve just been fished out of the water. This trio of pieces give palpable form to invisible networks, bringing into view what would normally be submerged.
Equally conflicting, ten small paintings of cephalopod eyes convey eerie feelings of being watched. According to the statement, part of the impetus given to this series, titled “Espejitxs” (Little Mirrors), 2021–, was the artist’s recognition of the esoteric connections between his father’s emigration from Chile, the migrations of the Humboldt squid he studies as a biophysicist, and the similarities between the impulses creature’s nerve cells and fiber optic cables. While Correa’s sculptures unearth what would otherwise remain invisible, these paintings celebrate the protective power of camouflage. Executed in oil and modeling clay on linen, they feature different high-key palettes, referring to chromatophores allowing the squid to blend into its surroundings by dynamically changing color.Inside each eye is a glowing pattern evoking artificial surveillance and control technologies, like a camera lens in Espejito VIII: Interruptor (Little Mirror VIII: Switch), or the light bar of a police vehicle in Espejito IX: Grit your teeth, both 2023. Embedded textures surround the softly painted eyepiece interiors, making them look even more like portals to other worlds. All these fantastical devices add up to a sci-fi effect, as if the animals were bionic hybrids sending our gaze back in silent reflection on the deleterious activities of humanity.
