Rarely does the white cube do anything other than what it was intended to do: disappear. But “Precipitation,” Tania Pérez Córdova’s second solo exhibition with the Tina Kim Gallery, defamiliarized the space, turning it into a strange void. No longer a neutral exhibition site, the “pristine” background of the gallery, thanks to Pérez Córdova, produced a lingering sensation, as if witnessing fragments of events that are no longer fully visible.
Artificial plants, rendered with exacting realism, seemed to emerge from the walls in precise arches. Combining the literal and the conceptual, the checklist noted that “leaf damage patterns” – alongside epoxy clay, iron, acrylic, plastic and gold-plated brass chains – constituted all plant sculptures. The press release explained that the pattern of holes and tears in the leaves was meant to suggest “insect infestations or botanical infections.” The delicate metallic strands were stretched suspended from the ceiling and threaded through selected breaks in the foliage, suggesting rain; this association was reinforced by captions listing various weather forecasts. Pérez Córdova’s false flora operates on the razor’s edge between the magical and the sinister. The decidedly still and barely visible brass links created a sort of dreamlike suspension in time, while the superficial abrasions of the plants underlined the effects of real forces, such as rot and disease.
Una reja and una reja 5 (A Fence into a Fence 5) (all works 2022) was a fragment of an aluminum chain link fence, melted down and then recast back to its original form. Suspended at eye level and disconnected from the surrounding architecture of the gallery, the sculpture has lost any functional delineation between interior and exterior. Two compact tangles of bird feathers are embedded in the object, evoking gentle sleeping or dead woodland creatures. Breaks in the trellis echoed leaf infestation patterns nearby. A sense of destruction and loss caused by mysterious forces haunted much of the exhibit.
Exhale 1–3 And Inhale 1–3 were stylized sculptural heads made of pumice stone. Split in half, they flank clear glass vessels filled with human breath (as the press release explains). The works are inspired by the different types of breathing that induce various psychic states. But they are also studies of matter when it changes from being gaseous, solid or liquid. Like other igneous rocks, pumice is formed from molten lava, in its case rapidly cooled, the result of a process of transmutation from one state to another. Pérez Córdova’s choice of materials may be a nod to her interest in merging and remaking objects. Similarly, glass must be liquefied by heat to take on its permanent shape. Indeed, many of the artworks in the exhibition beckoned to a relational set of identifications – with unseen or absent actors, and with past and future phases of existence. Precipitation itself is a metamorphic process: steam condenses into rain or snow, which evaporates or becomes groundwater.
As a whole, the exhibition pointed to the complex entanglements between flora, fauna, us and the environment, whether natural or architectural. While the degraded leaves suggested incursions that may not have had a direct human cause, the presence of muted metallic “rain” reminded us that there was no point in drawing distinctions between the natural and man-made worlds – we we are all intertwined in a set of highly contingent relationships. Fortunately, none of the artist’s works came across as pedantic criticism. Instead, Pérez Córdova offered imaginative glimpses of our varied landscape, with tense power dynamics and fragile beauty.
