The range of idiosyncratic materials that make up Estefania Puerta’s sculptures emphasize unexpected connections between linguistic expression, biomorphic forms and antiquity. In the diptych Luz/Helene (all works 2023), aluminum foil covers two raised spirals that mirror each other. Symmetry is ubiquitous in nature (the shapes here resemble snails or seashells), but it is also revered by many indigenous cultures, such as the ancient Andeans. Puerta also incorporates a subtle nod to its birthplace – the mountains of Colombia – with volcanic rocks from El Nevado del Ruiz, which, along with sagebrush, are nestled in a pair of insets and visible through stained glass windows. These natural elements carry spiritual and medicinal properties respectively. Enshrined here in reliquary-like containers, they are rendered precious and enigmatic.
Bodily references, notably to female anatomy, appear in several works. In soltera (Single Woman), two foam teardrop shapes resemble ovaries, while quail eggs, plant matter, and strands of the artist’s hair are presented in small capsules. Both hugging the edges of the object and wrapping themselves throughout the composition, from slender silver fingers to long black nails. Do they encourage the viewer to come closer or do they warn to keep their distance?
Like a thorn piercing hard skin that doesn’t know if it’s open or broken oscillates between looking like a welcoming embrace and a mutant Venus flytrap. Small photographs of the artist’s lips midway through are affixed to roughly carved slate and periwinkle-colored appendages that extend from the central frame. Puerta’s frozen mouth images convey both urgency and futility, which may speak to the artist’s challenges of being heard as an American immigrant and woman, but which are ultimately ambiguous and multivocal. Physically compact but conceptually expansive, this work, like the rest of the exhibition, is both exciting and strange.
