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"The Prophecy of Ollin" (detail) by Phil Cohen. Equinox Unwound The Black Box and Xochipilli, ancient Mexican god of flowers, ecstasy, and patron of the arts, set Spring in motion By KO Worries flit in my mind before going to this ritual performance in conjunction with an art opening: Will I get it? Will I be comfortable? Will I be asked to see something or do some-thing I've never done before? These aren't completely idle concerns -- performance art in the Bay Area can be intimidating, expensive, and frustrating when the performance isn't solidly conceived or when, in the extra time it takes to find parking, the event ends before you've arrived. The "multicultural community ritual" last Thursday seemed worthy of taking the risk. After an especially dark and cold winter, it is such a relief to reach the equinox and longer days; ritual seems appropriate, especially in honor of the Lord of Flowers, Xochipilli. Yes, it is comforting to consider celebrating the return of the dominance of light to this side of the planet. In recog-nition of the energy spent integrating the ritual with the exhibition opening, I vow to look at placement, how the images are arranged in relation to the ritual, and if there is a pattern of personal symbolism. There may be a visual metaphor to be caught; certainly the ritual is meant to shift my psychological perspective, which, after two seasons of dark media images and pol-itical actions, definitely needs a shift. If I know nothing else about the Lord of Flowers, at least I know he doesn't hold weapons in his arms! The street entrance to the Black Box is not obvious, but once inside Juan Domingo's large canvasses greet the gallery goer with spiritual images of present and future. Figures and objects are identi-fiable, not totally abstract, yet abstraction and realism blur together. He does this by combining elements of modernity with elements of traditional culture. A skull mask rests ghostlike on a television, both images of a dead world; Nahautl glyphs sit aside a freeway interchange destroyed by earthquake. In many of the works hummingbirds hover as witness. The entrance narrows to the white-painted lobby, which for a moment seems ironic. As the view is narrowed, visitors walk by portraits of deities paying homage to ancient representation as well as contemporary art techniques. The space narrows again and recedes away from the viewer into a hall of portraits of respected friends and leaders. From the center of this visual journey, conches and the smoke of sweetgrass invite guests to enter the evening's destination, the gallery's seeming namesake. The dark square performance space has been transformed; Aztec dancers in dramatic pheasant feather headdresses pay their respects to one another. As visitors pad in quietly, Corina Abouaf graciously beckons with a tall staff. Evelie Delfino Posch and Deo Arellano enjoin everyone in singing the Mayan song of unity "I Am You and You Are Me." Next, Rafael Jesús González invokes the center and invites guests to honor the four directions: To the east is a large painting of Xochipilli hung above an ofrenda, to the south a batik eagle, coyote and bear to the west, and white bison to the north. González speaks to a celebration of the vernal equinox and coming of Spring in the middle of such black times. Instruments, voices, and dance ensue making a playful offering to Xochipilli. My fears are dispelled. The ritual flowed gently and smoothly, encompassing a cultural diaspora with-out making the diversity obvious. It simply happened, with great relief, like the coming of spring. KO is an artist and IB art teacher. She believes if we practice seeing all that is in front of us we will be able to make our own art, conclusions, and decisions. [ East Bay | Metroactive | Archives ]