近距离内射合集

Walk into any yerber铆a in New Mexico, and you鈥檒l see colorful beaded necklaces, votive candles and figurines of saints alongside rows of essential oils and medicinal herbs. Similar shops on the East Coast, called bot谩nicas, cater to followers of Yor霉b谩-derived syncretic religions, such as Santer铆a, Vodou and Candombl茅, whereas the yerber铆as here mainly serve practitioners of curanderismo and folk Catholicism. But the ritual supplies are essentially the same. Many of the necklaces and candles in the shops here even bear the names of Yor霉b谩 guardian spirits, known as orishas (鈥渙rix谩s鈥� in Brazilian Portuguese).

Anyone who鈥檚 ever bought a candle from a yerber铆a, constructed an ofrenda for D铆a de los Muertos, lit farolitos or luminarias during the Christmas season or even cleansed the air in their home with sage may feel a sense of familiarity among the altar-like installations of Tiago Almeida鈥檚 鈥淢emories of the Past That Hug Me in a Nest鈥� at the Institute of Contemporary Art Santa Fe. Even folks who know little about African diasporic religions can sense the prayerful energy Almeida has put into his humble offerings and candles lit with intention. The devotion comes through, whether or not we know what all the symbols mean.

Almeida grew up in a rural part of Bahia, Brazil, and was initiated into Candombl茅, a spiritual path whose name roughly translates as 鈥渄ancing for the gods.鈥� In recent years, he made a documentary about a traditional Brazilian dance known as jongo and another about a popular festival for the goddess Iemanj谩 (called 鈥淵emoja鈥� or 鈥淵emay谩鈥� in other languages). These films function as autoethnographies, documenting Brazilian cultural practices from an insider鈥檚 point of view.

I was surprised to learn that 鈥淢emories of the Past That Hug Me in a Nest鈥� is Almeida鈥檚 first foray into installation art, as well as his first-ever solo exhibition. His integration of traditional ceremonial techniques with conceptual art strategies is so sophisticated and so effective that I assumed he had been doing it for years.

The heart of the exhibition is 鈥淩onc贸 (Initiation Room),鈥� an inner sanctum in the middle of the gallery that simulates the room of quiet isolation where Candombl茅 neophytes undergo their extended process of initiation. As visitors step into the ronc贸, the atmosphere changes. The walls are blank. Soft, natural light filters down through a lacy white canopy. Ceremonial objects are laid out on two mats, with a shallow bowl of uncooked white corn placed between them. A cup leans against and kisses the lip of the bowl. Everything is placed with utter precision, as in a Japanese tea room. As Almeida explains in the exhibition text, 鈥淚t is a way of giving people the feeling (of Candombl茅 initiation) without giving away too many secrets.鈥�

African religion was both demonized and violently suppressed during the era of slavery and the Inquisition in the Americas, so it had to be practiced in secret. Even today, while Candombl茅 tends to welcome sincere spiritual aspirants, certain mysteries of the faith only get revealed under the mentorship of established guides.

Almeida is eager to educate non-Candombl茅 visitors about his religion 鈥� even hosting workshops on beading and other cultural practices during the run of the show 鈥� but he is careful to protect other forms of cultural knowledge. Curator and ICA Santa Fe founder Chiara Giovando explains in her curatorial statement that Almeida had lengthy conversations with members of his spiritual community, 鈥渋ncluding his spiritual mother and father,鈥� to determine how much he should reveal to outsiders.

In a few of the works, Almeida interposes mediating layers between his viewers and the images we want to see. 鈥淢iragens do Vermelho entre Cacos Coloniais鈥� (鈥淢irages of Red Among Colonial Shards鈥�) consists of a series of photographs Almeida took in Salvador, Bahia, which served as one of the principal ports of the transatlantic slave trade.

But he has shrunk the images down and inserted them into keychain-sized plastic viewfinders. In 鈥淰islumbres de Terreiro: A Periferia do Olhar鈥� (鈥淕limpses of the Terreiro: The Periphery of the Gaze鈥�), Almeida presents images of Candombl茅 practitioners in their sacred spaces, known as terreiros, but the photographs are visible only through peepholes, some of which may be too high or too low for visitors to approach comfortably. These distancing devices make us aware of our status as outsiders, literally peering into someone else鈥檚 world. At the same time, they demand from us both time and effort.

In the case of the peepholes, we may have to literally kneel down in a posture of supplication to see what鈥檚 on the other side of the wall. Almeida is willing to share a wealth of cultural and historical knowledge, but not with viewers who expect to get everything all at once. The work rewards humility and patience.

Prior to the opening of the exhibition on June 14, Almeida led a traditional procession and blessing ceremony with offerings to Exu (Eshu) and Ogum (Ogun), orishas associated with transformation and protection. Exu, in particular, is associated with crossroads and the opening of new paths. Participants gathered at the ICA entrance and processed across Cerillos Road and St. Francis Drive before returning to the gallery. Ritual objects from the procession were then added to the installations inside.

Almeida said the experience was especially auspicious because a double rainbow appeared overhead just as the marchers returned to the gallery. As a critic, I can鈥檛 necessarily give him credit for a meteorological phenomenon, but the fact that it happened makes it part of the lore surrounding the work. A more religiously minded observer might even consider it an artistic collaboration with the orishas he invoked.

People sometimes think of 鈥渢raditional鈥� and 鈥渃ontemporary鈥� as mutually opposed categories, but they blur together in 鈥淢emories of the Past That Hug Me in a Nest.鈥� Many of Almeida鈥檚 materials are 鈥渘ontraditional鈥� for sculpture but highly traditional in Candombl茅 rituals. On the other hand, photographs and video installations are 鈥渘ontraditional鈥� in a Candombl茅 context but firmly established art mediums.

If we think about contemporary art from the 1960s to the present, we鈥檒l see that many artists have blurred the distinctions between ritual and performance, or religion and art. Joseph Beuys certainly wanted his art installations and performances to be spiritually transformative. In the 1960s, he began working with natural materials like animal fat, which Siberian shamans, he claimed, used in healing ceremonies that once saved his life. In the 1960s and 鈥�70s, Hermann Nitsch and other Viennese Actionists engaged in cathartic group performances, often involving blood, guts and dancing, that were inspired by the pagan rituals of pre-Christian Europe. In the 1980s, the Cuban-born artist Mar铆a Magdalena Campos Pons started making art installations with ritual objects from Santer铆a, the Yor霉b谩 tradition that her family practices.

I grew up in South Florida, lived in Miami for about a decade as an adult, and saw a lot of Yor霉b谩-inspired art while I was there. I also met many people who practiced Santer铆a, Vodou and other Yor霉b谩-derived religions, and I studied anthropology with Albert Wuaku, an expert on Afro-Caribbean spirituality. I was somewhat less familiar with Candombl茅, although Miami is home to many Brazilians, too, and expressions of Brazilian culture, such as capoeira, a dancelike martial art, were ubiquitous. 鈥淢emories of the Past That Hug Me in a Nest鈥� pulled me right back to those Miami days, and I did feel 鈥渉ugged,鈥� in a sense, by those memories.

Other visitors may feel less at home in Almeida鈥檚 show, and that鈥檚 OK. A lack of knowledge of African religion should not keep anyone from experiencing these powerful installations any more than a lack of knowledge of Catholicism should keep anyone from experiencing Renaissance art. Let yourself be a stranger in a strange land for a while as you wander through the show, but try to keep your mind open for points of connection. If candles, corn, broken pottery or other materials evoke sense memories in you, let those memories guide your thoughts. The flash of recognition that comes from seeing even one or two familiar objects can transform an otherwise alienating experience of otherness into one of understanding or affection.

This exhibition is part of ICA Santa Fe鈥檚 New Commissions program, which supports artists at 鈥渕oments of expansion,鈥� Giovando said, 鈥渨hen a practice is stretching into new territory and there is an opportunity to help something genuinely new come into being.鈥� In this case, Almeida was moving beyond traditional documentary film and photography and wanting to create immersive, multisensory experiences.

For those wishing to immerse themselves even more deeply in the world of Candombl茅, Almeida will host a hands-on beading workshop on Saturday, July 11, and a bracelet-braiding workshop on Saturday, July 18. The beaded necklaces in the first workshop are designed to connect people with their orishas, while the braided straw bracelets in the second are meant to stave off chaos. An additional workshop on Saturday, July 25, exploring food and feeding as a spiritual practice, will serve as a closing celebration.

Each workshop is limited to 15 participants, with a portion of spaces in each reserved for BIPOC individuals. Registration is $25, although Giovando said that no one will be turned away for lack of funds as long as there is still space. Visit for more information or to register.

In her curatorial statement, Giovando said Almeida鈥檚 work 鈥渞esists the documentary impulse to render its subject fully legible.鈥� Rather, he uses art to 鈥渃reate meaningful encounters with living traditions without reducing them to information.鈥� In other words, 鈥淢emories of the Past That Hug Me in a Nest鈥� is not an anthropological exhibition, even if some viewers are initially drawn in by their curiosity about an unfamiliar culture. Almeida fuses nonlinear memories from his own life with historical narratives and spiritual visions, creating an emotionally layered, semi-autobiographical reverie. Without sacrificing cultural specificity, the work explores universal themes of desire, belonging, survival and transcendence. And while certain images and symbols may remain opaque to us 鈥� by design 鈥� there鈥檚 enough generosity of spirit in Almeida鈥檚 practice to make anyone with an open mind feel welcomed and included.

In a way, Almeida鈥檚 relationship with us, the viewers, mirrors his relationship with the orishas. What at first seems wholly other becomes increasingly intimate and familiar over time. I call this 鈥渟low-release art,鈥� and it鈥檚 my favorite kind. Rather than dictating what we should think or feel, the artist lets us approach his art on our own terms and at our own pace. We get to know it the same way we would get to know a person. The meanings unfold gradually and are likely to be different for each of us, since they evolve out of our own reciprocal relationships with the work. Certain images may return to us days later, prickling and poking our consciousness, and the more we ponder them, the more secrets they reveal. We start out as strangers but end up as friends.

Logan Royce Beitmen is an arts writer for the 近距离内射合集. He covers visual art, music, fashion, theater and more. Reach him at lbeitmen@abqjournal.com or on Instagram at .