Also this issue: Dancing in the Rain Leah Stein faced downpours and language barriers to teach improvisational dance in Poland. -Anastacia Wilde Viva Variety -Ashlea Halpern Chaos, Theories Take Two -Deborah Bolling Miller Time -Alex Richmond

August 1- 7, 2002

art

Customs Design

Charles Juh‡sz-Alvarado, Jardin de Frutos Prohibidos/ZONA FRANCA, installation.

by Susan Hagen

Jardin de Frutos Prohibidos/ZONA FRANCA (The Garden of the Forbidden Fruit/DUTY FREE)Through Aug. 16, The Fabric Workshop and Museum, 1315 Cherry St., 215-568-1111

At 37 years old, artist Charles Juhász-Alvarado is familiar with travel. He was born in the Philippines, grew up in the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico, and studied at Yale, where he received his B.A. and M.F.A. He currently resides in San Juan, Puerto Rico, has exhibited widely in the U.S. and Europe, and was recently selected to represent Puerto Rico in the 25th Bienal de São Paulo. Now, in collaboration with the Fabric Workshop, Juhász-Alvarado has created an installation that postulates a lounge for the San Juan airport. This hypothetical airport lounge is made up of a pieced-together (and not-quite-seamless) arrangement of constructed elements. The artist describes it as “an exuberant garden entangled with native Puerto Rican flora and fauna,” and the project is indeed sensuous (albeit in a very intellectual way), but mostly it’s a trope about the activity of modern travel. This is a fitting theme for Juhász-Alvarado, who usually designs his work for direct public participation.

Creating a narrative framework, there are six large information panels on the walls of the gallery -- each with English and Spanish texts, charts, diagrams and a series of large color photographs -- that tell tales about smugglers and would-be smugglers of various types of produce. The stories are campy and outrageous, and some feature mild eroticism. One tells the story of Bernice, a young woman about to embark on a career as a porn star in L.A. She uses her charms and easily tricks the inspector into letting her go through with her contraband pigeon peas. By the last photograph he’s completely agog, with his shirt and pants unbuttoned and his bare chest and underpants exposed. Other panels document fictional smugglers like a radical band of vegetarians and an elderly woman with okra stuffed into her pockets and waistband, and in a few of the panels the incongruous figure of a nude man can be spotted among the other travelers.

After setting the stage with these entertaining stories, the artist’s intention was for museum-goers to frolic and relax on a large, low, padded platform in the center of the gallery. The platform is covered with a large photograph printed on upholstery fabric that shows a continuous aerial view of the San Juan airport with juxtaposed prints of animals, fruits and vegetables. Scattered on top of the platform are 18 silk pillows with thick green tassels, each with a printed photograph duplicating the scene below it. This lounge area appears extremely inviting, with surfaces and details that encourage closer examination. However, the public is not permitted on the platform in this particular exhibition.

A few other components around the gallery add details to the airport scenario. Hanging from the ceiling are two large model airplanes made of clear Plexiglas -- perhaps to facilitate the search for illegal cargo. Instead of engines, the planes have speakers and blast out a soundtrack of collaged sounds: jet engines, announcements, conversations, moody chords. In one corner a male mannequin displays a folksy agricultural customs inspector’s costume, designed by Juhász-Alvarado, that includes a silk ascot printed like the lounge pillows. (The artist dressed up in the costume and mingled with guests at the opening.) In the opposite corner, a small shop of pretend duty-free items -- T-shirts and postcards advertising the show -- completes the airport-lounge scenario. These items are not for sale in the installation, though they can be purchased downstairs in the museum’s store. Again, public interaction is suggested but unrealized.

The installation was empty when I visited, so imagining this airport lounge filled with “travelers” relaxing, bustling or romping required a leap of faith. But yet, in spite of the frustrations and contradictions it offers, the fractured theatricality of the installation is entertaining, and the piece brings up some intriguing open-ended questions about the psychology and politics of travel in the modern world. Juhász-Alvarado, speaking from experience, seems to be saying that travel is complicated, entertaining and sometimes painful, but a necessary part of the human condition.