Horacio zabala (50 risultati)

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Paperback. Condizione: Used like new. Used like new softcover in matte printed wraps. Text is clean and free of marks or underlining. Minor shelf wear. (7.4 x 0.7 x 9.5 inches) Includes photos and art prints. 205 pp. Fast shipping in a secure book box mailer with tracking. Exhibition catalogue for: Horacia Zabala: Mapping the Monocrome. Horacio Zabala (Argentina, b.1943) is recognized as one of the most important conceptual artists to emerge in Argentina during the latter part of the 20th century. Educated as an architect but active as an artist since the late 1960s, he has long been fascinated by the means by which space is defined, be it architectural, cartographic, or narrative. In the early 1970s, Zabala produced a series of maps of Latin America that he graphically modified to reflect Argentina's socio-political turmoil under repressive military dictatorships. He began this experimentation by obscuring maps of the region with monochromatic rectangles of black, blue, or red paint. He also made maps invisible by the proliferation of the word "CENSORED" rubber-stamped across their surfaces; maps with absences created by burning gaping holes through the paper; and hand-drawn maps of Latin American land masses crumbling into the sea from inside out. To escape persecution, Zabala moved his family to Europe in 1976. He returned to Argentina in 1998 and took up where he left off, with the idea of mapping space, but now through a different idiom: monochromatic paintings arranged in sequences accompanied by mathematical signs or punctuation marks. The monochrome seen in his early maps has now become untethered from geography. Zabala titles these punctuated monochromesHypotheses, suggesting that they constitute only one possible solution among many others: these works present viewers with an invitation to visualize painting as inextricably linked to other systems of logic and reason, even beyond math and language. Featuring maps, monochromes, and sculptures, the exhibition Horacio Zabala: Mapping the Monochrome presents a cross-section of Zabala's work, both historical and contemporary. It illustrates his continuous exploration of innovative ways to engage viewers with art objects that are immediately accessible because they are familiar to us, but altered to reflect deeper socio-political undercurrents or references to art historical traditions on an international scale. …

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Softcover, 36 pages; in English and Spanish; as new condition; clean and crisp; no internal marks. Foreign shipping may be extra.

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Softcover, 176 pages; in Spanish; as new condition; clean and crisp; no internal marks. Foreign shipping may be extra.

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Softcover/Paperback. Condizione: Very Good. Horacio Zabala.Evolucion, Involucion, Revolucion. Argentina: Horacio Zabala, 1974.Sheet.5 1/2" x 4 1/2".Spanish. Near fine.Minor soiling to back. An apparently hand-cut piece of a map of South America with a square drawn in pencil and pen. Inside the pen are the words "Evolucion, Involucion, Revolucion" as well as Horacio Zabala's signature and the date. A play on words and the political states of the countries featured on the map such as Argentina, Uruguay, etc. Evolution, Regression, or Revolution? What will come to pass? Horacio Zabala is an Argentine conceptual artist, who over the course of a long career, has primarily been concerned with built space, physical and conceptual boundaries, and their effect on society, artists, and the average person. "Horacio Zabala is a conceptual artist who lives in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Trained as an architect, he frequently incorporates into his work architectural plans or representations of the built environment evoked through language or signs. Zabala's interest in physical structures elicits an exploration of the very purpose and utility of artistic expression, while also gesturing outwards to the political situation in his native Argentina. Indeed, the earliest works in this show were created amidst a thriving backdrop of conceptualism and systems art, as well as of the socio-political context of political oppression, between the fall of one dictatorship and the beginning of another. Rodrigo Alonso suggests that the work points 'to the risk of complicity that architecture runs in the case of being placed at the service of an authoritarian system.' This makes Zabala's interest in the architecture of oppression or safetythe jail or the bomb shelterall the more poignant.Systems art has an important history in Argentina; it found institutional support from the influential Centro de Arte y Comunicación (CAyC) and its director, Jorge Glusberg, who was at the forefront of international trends in the visual arts in the late 1960s and 1970s. Glusberg was ever sensitive to the sociopolitical connotation of art created in an oppressive regime like that in Argentina at this time, writing: 'from the viewpoint of semiotics, art is an ideological discourse [.] By way of artistic acts, man can become aware of his social reality.' Zabala's work, which was shown in the seminal exhibitions of systems art at CAyC, shares with Glusberg an interest in the scientific method, semiology, and how art functions within a society. Later, Zabala reflected: 'In the field of the visual arts, relationships between things stimulate me far more than the things themselves. Accordingly, in my work with monochromes, signs, furniture and cartography, I attempt to force relationships, to point out analogies and to divert uses.' Herein perhaps lies the key to understanding his work. It makes us look at things known intimately with fresh eyes and ponder how they could be put to an alternative use. The most jarring of such analogies is the one seen emblazoned on so many works in the showArt is a Jaila statement he first arrived at in 1972. Zabala's hand is shown writing the phrase or stamping it with ink onto paper. This is quite shocking coming from a visual artist who has chosen this path. What does it mean for art to be a jail? On one level, it describes the confining limitations of art as an institution, but the proliferation of the motif in highly varied works begs a closer look.In 1973, Zabala had a solo show at CAyC entitled Anteproyectos (Draft Projects). For this he created numerous plans for prisons that became codified into typologiesprisons on a column, floating prisons, and underground prisonssuggesting that they can be anywhere and everywhere, and that they are not always where you might expect them. Also shown there was the installation Espacio Represivo (Repressive Space) from the same year. A domestic-scaled cage-like enclosure, it brings the prison to the scale of the body and into the space of the gallery viewer. In other works, Zabala presents a less hypothetical depiction of the prisonthose that are currently in use but are so integrated in our daily lives that we barely recognize their existence. In doing so, he shows how they have been obfuscated through fear tactics, revealing how we voluntarily submit ourselves to imprisonment for safekeeping against wars manufactured by our own governments, for example. Exemplifying this, he created Anteprojetos para refugios antiatómicos (Draft Projects for Anti-Atomic Shelters) in 1983 during his time in exile in Italy. It explores the commercialism of atomic warfare and what the artist terms the 'aesthetics of the catastrophe.' 'The anti-atomic shelter,' he writes, 'is presented to the consumer as a defensive necessity. If the threat is generalized and has acquired a planetary character, the bunker is no longer a single concept of military strategy (or a negative utopia of science fiction), but another element of the economic-technological system whose image circulates by mass-media.'Not all of these prisons are so cynical, however, which is one explanation for Zabala's characterization of his own creative imprisonment. In a 1975 draft project series Anteproyeto para Tzinacán (Draft Project for Tzinacán), he draws the plan for the prison described in Borges's short story The God's Script, reproducing the first paragraph of the text as a legend. In the story, the Spanish conquistador Pedro de Alvarado imprisons Tzinacán, the priest of the fictitious Mesoamerican pyramid of Qaholom, in a hemispheric, underground prison with a jaguar in an adjacent cell separated by a dividing wall. Tzinacán is kept in complete darkness, and he can only glimpse the animal when a jailer feeds them at midday. Tzinacán becomes convinced that the spots of the jaguar spell out a message from God, and spends his days trying to decipher it. Then, upon awaking from a dream, he had a vision of a wheel made of fire and water in equal measure t.…

Softcover/Paperback. Condizione: Very Good. Horacio Zabala.Tension = Force Area. Argentina: Horacio Zabala, 1974.Two photocopy sheets and a piece of a map on paper in portfolio.Spanish and English. Near fine, but for light wear to portfolio.A blank cream-colored portfolio that opens onto protective tissue paper signed in pen "For Carlo Giovanni Cicatelli Zabala '74."with Zabala's rubber-stamp as well. An offering by Zabala to a fellow artist.Laid into the tissue paper are four sheets. Two xeroxes of a map of South America with the equations "Area = Force Tension" & "Tension = Force Area" overlaid on their respective sheets. Then a blank sheet which protects a simple piece of a map snippet pasted onto a sheet depicting the Malvinas islands in reference to tensions between Argentina and Great Britain over ownership of the Malvinas or Falkland Islands.Carlo Giovanni Cicatelli is also known as Charles Chickadee who was a founding member of the Bay Area Dada group, a publisher, as well as a mail-art participant. Horacio Zabala is an Argentine conceptual artist, who over the course of a long career, has primarily been concerned with built space, physical and conceptual boundaries, and their effect on society, artists, and the average person. "Horacio Zabala is a conceptual artist who lives in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Trained as an architect, he frequently incorporates into his work architectural plans or representations of the built environment evoked through language or signs. Zabala's interest in physical structures elicits an exploration of the very purpose and utility of artistic expression, while also gesturing outwards to the political situation in his native Argentina. Indeed, the earliest works in this show were created amidst a thriving backdrop of conceptualism and systems art, as well as of the socio-political context of political oppression, between the fall of one dictatorship and the beginning of another. Rodrigo Alonso suggests that the work points 'to the risk of complicity that architecture runs in the case of being placed at the service of an authoritarian system.' This makes Zabala's interest in the architecture of oppression or safetythe jail or the bomb shelterall the more poignant.Systems art has an important history in Argentina; it found institutional support from the influential Centro de Arte y Comunicación (CAyC) and its director, Jorge Glusberg, who was at the forefront of international trends in the visual arts in the late 1960s and 1970s. Glusberg was ever sensitive to the sociopolitical connotation of art created in an oppressive regime like that in Argentina at this time, writing: 'from the viewpoint of semiotics, art is an ideological discourse [.] By way of artistic acts, man can become aware of his social reality.' Zabala's work, which was shown in the seminal exhibitions of systems art at CAyC, shares with Glusberg an interest in the scientific method, semiology, and how art functions within a society. Later, Zabala reflected: 'In the field of the visual arts, relationships between things stimulate me far more than the things themselves. Accordingly, in my work with monochromes, signs, furniture and cartography, I attempt to force relationships, to point out analogies and to divert uses.' Herein perhaps lies the key to understanding his work. It makes us look at things known intimately with fresh eyes and ponder how they could be put to an alternative use. The most jarring of such analogies is the one seen emblazoned on so many works in the showArt is a Jaila statement he first arrived at in 1972. Zabala's hand is shown writing the phrase or stamping it with ink onto paper. This is quite shocking coming from a visual artist who has chosen this path. What does it mean for art to be a jail? On one level, it describes the confining limitations of art as an institution, but the proliferation of the motif in highly varied works begs a closer look.In 1973, Zabala had a solo show at CAyC entitled Anteproyectos (Draft Projects). For this he created numerous plans for prisons that became codified into typologiesprisons on a column, floating prisons, and underground prisonssuggesting that they can be anywhere and everywhere, and that they are not always where you might expect them. Also shown there was the installation Espacio Represivo (Repressive Space) from the same year. A domestic-scaled cage-like enclosure, it brings the prison to the scale of the body and into the space of the gallery viewer. In other works, Zabala presents a less hypothetical depiction of the prisonthose that are currently in use but are so integrated in our daily lives that we barely recognize their existence. In doing so, he shows how they have been obfuscated through fear tactics, revealing how we voluntarily submit ourselves to imprisonment for safekeeping against wars manufactured by our own governments, for example. Exemplifying this, he created Anteprojetos para refugios antiatómicos (Draft Projects for Anti-Atomic Shelters) in 1983 during his time in exile in Italy. It explores the commercialism of atomic warfare and what the artist terms the 'aesthetics of the catastrophe.' 'The anti-atomic shelter,' he writes, 'is presented to the consumer as a defensive necessity. If the threat is generalized and has acquired a planetary character, the bunker is no longer a single concept of military strategy (or a negative utopia of science fiction), but another element of the economic-technological system whose image circulates by mass-media.'Not all of these prisons are so cynical, however, which is one explanation for Zabala's characterization of his own creative imprisonment. In a 1975 draft project series Anteproyeto para Tzinacán (Draft Project for Tzinacán), he draws the plan for the prison described in Borges's short story The God's Script, reproducing the first paragraph of the text as a legend. In the story, the Spanish conquistador Pedro de Alvarado imprisons Tzinacán, the priest of the fictitious Mesoamerican pyramid of Q.…

Softcover/Paperback. Condizione: Very Good. Horacio Zabala.Preliminary Plans for Latin American Jail Architecture Underground Cell for Artists drawing. Argentina: Horacio Zabala, 1974.Drawing pasted onto board.7 1/4" x 5 1/2".English. Near fine.Board has slight edge wear.Underlined "12" on board in blue pencil to left of pasted drawing. Border of drawing has white paint and blue pencil. Drawing is coming unglued on right side. A unique "Anteproyecto" drawing from 1974 signed and dated in pen as well as with Zabala's rubber stamp. The drawing depicts a cell large enough for a single artist with a chute to enter, a pipe to allow for oxygen and a chute below to whisk away urine and excrement. The "pasted" natured of this drawing as well as the 12 below leads me to believe this was featured in a publication or magazine, but I am unaware if this is actually the case. In 1973, Zabala had an exhibition at CaYC in Buenos Aires, Argentina titled Anteproyectos (draft plans) which featured drawings of this sort. The relationship between architecture and freedom and its' many implications remained a consistent theme in his art. Horacio Zabala is an Argentine conceptual artist, who over the course of a long career, has primarily been concerned with built space, physical and conceptual boundaries, and their effect on society, artists, and the average person. "Horacio Zabala is a conceptual artist who lives in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Trained as an architect, he frequently incorporates into his work architectural plans or representations of the built environment evoked through language or signs. Zabala's interest in physical structures elicits an exploration of the very purpose and utility of artistic expression, while also gesturing outwards to the political situation in his native Argentina. Indeed, the earliest works in this show were created amidst a thriving backdrop of conceptualism and systems art, as well as of the socio-political context of political oppression, between the fall of one dictatorship and the beginning of another. Rodrigo Alonso suggests that the work points 'to the risk of complicity that architecture runs in the case of being placed at the service of an authoritarian system.' This makes Zabala's interest in the architecture of oppression or safetythe jail or the bomb shelterall the more poignant.Systems art has an important history in Argentina; it found institutional support from the influential Centro de Arte y Comunicación (CAyC) and its director, Jorge Glusberg, who was at the forefront of international trends in the visual arts in the late 1960s and 1970s. Glusberg was ever sensitive to the sociopolitical connotation of art created in an oppressive regime like that in Argentina at this time, writing: 'from the viewpoint of semiotics, art is an ideological discourse [.] By way of artistic acts, man can become aware of his social reality.' Zabala's work, which was shown in the seminal exhibitions of systems art at CAyC, shares with Glusberg an interest in the scientific method, semiology, and how art functions within a society. Later, Zabala reflected: 'In the field of the visual arts, relationships between things stimulate me far more than the things themselves. Accordingly, in my work with monochromes, signs, furniture and cartography, I attempt to force relationships, to point out analogies and to divert uses.' Herein perhaps lies the key to understanding his work. It makes us look at things known intimately with fresh eyes and ponder how they could be put to an alternative use. The most jarring of such analogies is the one seen emblazoned on so many works in the showArt is a Jaila statement he first arrived at in 1972. Zabala's hand is shown writing the phrase or stamping it with ink onto paper. This is quite shocking coming from a visual artist who has chosen this path. What does it mean for art to be a jail? On one level, it describes the confining limitations of art as an institution, but the proliferation of the motif in highly varied works beg.…