Suddenly you are without friends and without love: they are all gone. It looks like the lyrics of a tango, but it is a hard reality. Nor is it the case with the elderly, who one day discover that they are being left alone and then begin to wait for death themselves. It turns out that your friends, your boyfriend or husband suddenly leave your country and go to others: they emigrate ... they move away from you ... forever.
The person who suffers the consequences of the migration syndrome generates a peculiar state of mind where the first feeling to nest is desolation, which rules the spirit and hurts deeply. Such a situation does not usually appear as a theme in the Cuban press, nor is it remembered in literature, and it is barely seen in some theatrical pieces. In fine arts, Sandra Ramos has dedicated it an exhibition at the Center for the Development of the Visual Arts.
A way to kill loneliness she titled a set of intaglio prints with a great pictorial appearance. With this series the monotonous panorama of engraving in Cuba, heretofore weighed down by an unconditional attachment to thematic banality and technical preciousness is energized and given new vigor. Although Ramos's technique is impeccable, this is used to fulfill the idea: the conception of works that are attractive at first sight, to soften the crude approach to a problem that moves people in Cuban society.
The diaspora of Cuban artists has led to the affirmation that in Cuba there is nothing valuable in art. Ramos' work is enough to deny such a Manichean assertion (and there are many other names). If in the eighties the relations among Art and society were more explicit, because there was a propitious moment; at present many creators continue to make an art of a sociological nature, but with the difference that social commentary it is concretized by "increasing the thickness of the metaphor". In addition, art is shielded in a rigorous finish, so that the aesthetic quality is unobjectionable, and the work in its own right earns its place on the wall or gallery floor.
In a kind of cat-and-mouse game, in which the mouse disguises itself to trick the cat, and the cat pretends to believe the costume. Or like that of the ostrich that puts its head into the hole. This surreptitious margin of maneuverability between the artists and the officialism, that "stretch and shrink", is not written in any decree. So, when the institution deems it convenient, it closes an exhibition on the fourth day of its opening. But the artists, in response, seem to accept the popular saying that "while the stick comes and goes, the body rests", and they continue to work and expose: they mock what must be mocked, criticize what must be criticized ... they are using each day more sophisticated resources to fable. It is no longer a tragedy; it is a dramatic comedy.
Ramos also uses subterfuges: she expresses her ideas by transferring them to a well-known figure in the Cuban press: el Bobo de Abela (Abela’s Fool) who emerged in the thirties (during the corrupted Machado Government) to comment on the ills of the young nation: Or go to the emblematic Alice in Wonderland, which ends in its version rowing in a boat, Havana pier out. Or ironically plays with titles like The Dream of the Prophet ... It should also be pointed that the artist uses texts in her work as complementary and effective information for the visual image.
Finally, ... I am not going to say something I hate: "it is a very feminine work" when a male artist exhibits, who dares to say: "it is a very masculine work"? Certainly not, because it's silly. The artist's gender does not have to count to validate a work. It should only matter if it is good or bad. And these from Ramos is the best you see around here. With a piece from this exhibition, she has just won the prize for the international competition La Joven Stamp, by Casa de las Américas.