Ricardo Chavez Tovar ~ Sacred Ritual As Art

The Muse Is Not Available (December 2009)

The Elusive Art of Sacred Ritual

“Commercialism and industrialism now threaten, alas, to turn art into just another economic activity - and the artist's ceremonial and magical role into a purely ornamental one. No doubt a certain superstitious awe still attends the artist's endeavors; but in this consumerist age, the artist-shaman's contribution to the success of the hunt has been reduced to churning out effective advertising and public relations for the vulgar new gods of materialism - or fashionable new trends for the children of the privileged.” ~ Antares Maitreya (Inner Technology of Art: Making Public the Private, 2001)

It’s not often that I get the chance to quote myself, so I decided to grab this opportunity. I feel the above statement is particularly relevant to what Ricardo Chavez Tovar is all about. He is one among a handful of artists with whom I’m personally acquainted who has consciously reclaimed his magical lineage as a brujo – a practising shaman. Technically, he is as conscientious and competent as any professional artist you will find anywhere in the world. It’s just that Ricardo doesn’t give two hoots about public relations and the glossy hype that permeates the art milieu.

I don’t claim to know the man at all, but he apparently knows something about me, since he keeps inviting me to officiate at his openings. And now he is twisting my arm to write a foreword for his catalog, even though he must suspect I no longer feel fired up enough about art to wish to pontificate about it. In any case, Ricardo says I should view it as an honor and not a chore, and so I will.

Rare photo of the artist with some of his students

Ricardo Chavez Tovar will always be an enigma - perhaps even to himself. I won’t attempt to expound upon his equally enigmatic and intriguing art. Indeed, to approach his work on the cerebral level seems sacrilegious. It would be as uncouth and ungracious as furtively extracting dead skin cells from the fingers of the Muse for laboratory analysis, instead of ecstatically surrendering to her tender caresses.

One thing is certain: Ricardo Chavez Tovar is not bothered by the games people tend to play and the elaborate pretenses that surround the rarefied precincts of fashionable and marketable art. Would he otherwise spend months and years working on exhibits that can’t be sold and proudly displayed in the finest suburban homes?

Nonetheless, having said that, I can picture Ricardo’s evocative installations occupying pride of place in some prestigious contemporary art museum anywhere in the civilized world - so I hope he maintains an open mind about the prospect of sudden, unexpected global acclaim.

Altar to the Muse (December 2009)

What drives the man, then, to such unimaginable intensities of feeling and artistic arousal? If the word “religious” didn’t carry such a heavy burden of negative connotations, I would apply it to Ricardo’s art. After all, he was born Mexican: a tempestuous genetic and cultural mix of Olmec, Maya, Zapotec, Toltec, Aztec and Conquistador. His blood is infused with the otherworldly song of stars; and with the colors, flavors and textures that inspire vivid murals. His cellular memories encompass galaxies and constellations. The mystery of death fascinates and obsesses him as powerfully as the secret of life. His imagination is fired equally by the divine and the diabolical. You could call him a regenerate pagan, a renegade human.

Ricardo’s series of installations dedicated to the Muse - conspicuously absent, yet ubiquitously present - now exist only in photographic form lovingly documented by Ung Chirt Min - having been exhibited to no more than a tiny number of hardcore aficionados. In effect, Ricardo Chavez Tovar is one of those rare artists who can operate quite happily without an audience, since his art is his personal form of worship, his own sacred ceremony.

Morning Stretching Of A Golden Fool On The Awakening Balcony

What inspired him to embark on the current series? In a recent email Ricardo discloses that he “got struck by a shining light of creative madness” while listening to The Residents, one of his favorite avant-garde bands, whose allusions to an imaginary guru named N. Senada and his Theory of Obscurity were probably based on the mutant musings of Don Van Vliet aka Captain Beefheart - a 1970’s Dada rock icon who retired from the music scene in 1982 to focus on painting.

Ricardo spent three years in China learning the language and absorbing the culture. Then he relocated to Penang where he has taught for nearly twenty years. His best buddy and artistic accomplice in Penang is Askandar Unglehrt (a German married to a Kelantanese princess) who shares Ricardo’s eye and taste for the surreal, the epiphanic and the ephemeral – and also the luminous, numinous, humorous, ludicrous and (conceptually) intoxicating.

I mention Askandar because his contribution to Ricardo’s evolution as an artist-magician cannot be discounted. Every artist, shaman, sorcerer or wizard derives inspiration, nourishment and nurturing from those who recognize, acknowledge and believe in him.

Well, Ricardo, let me state here for the record that I, too, recognize, acknowledge and believe in you. Live long, prosper (if at all possible), and influence the course of human destiny (if you so desire).

Antares Maitreya

Magick River

6 August 2009

October’s Full Moon Party at the Tropical Gardens of Lady Luna (2012)

A Note of Apology from Antares

Ricardo emailed me in January 2007, asking if I would say “a few words” at the opening of his installation, The Muse Is Not Available.

I agreed, of course, since everybody says it’s an honor to be invited to officiate at such events.

My dear friend Askandar Unglehrt, in his program notes to this event, describes Ricardo’s work as “a visual poem about presence and absence - or, more precisely, about the presence of the absence.”

I know Ricardo as an artist who lives his art. And we know that life imitates art as often as art imitates life. I was looking forward to being present at his opening in Kuala Lumpur. And yet my absence is proclaimed by this note. I was compelled by unavoidable circumstances to deliver this message by proxy.

One of my daughters celebrates her 10th wedding anniversary today on Langkawi Island and she insisted that her Daddy be present. Without consulting the calendar I immediately agreed. Knowing her, she would not be amused if I didn’t show up for her grand party.

Ricardo, I know, has already forgiven me. Indeed, he wants me to officiate at his next opening. I promise I will make myself available on that happy occasion. For now, I can only trust that my absence will add to, rather than detract from, the magical presence of Ricardo’s uniquely imaginative and evocative work.

Thank you, dear friends. May you enjoy and be enriched by the work of this extremely talented and passionate artist.

Antares

1 June 2007

NO PLACE LIKE HOME!

Chimes of freedom

Some of you will have observed that I haven't updated this blog since December 26th (incidentally the fourth anniversary of the terrible Sumatran tsunami that wiped out nearly 300,000 human lives). Not to worry, I'm alive and well, but I was in Penang for a couple of days and I didn't get anywhere near a computer. When I finally got home on December 29th, visitors began turning up in an endless stream - and they were sufficiently charming to distract me from blogging.

I was in Penang to "officiate" at the opening of Penang-based Mexican artist Ricardo Chavez Tovar's latest installation in his series, The Muse Is Not Available. Ricardo had asked me to be guest of honor at his exhibition in Kuala Lumpur in June 2007 - but I was forced to cancel out at the last minute, so I couldn't possibly refuse this time.

Getting there took a couple of hours longer than expected on account of the holiday season. Bus tickets were all sold out and I had to wait more than two hours in Ipoh to continue my journey to Penang. Once there, of course, it was really sweet to catch up with my old friend Askandar Unglehrt, surrealist artist and owner of the Armenian Street studio gallery where Ricardo's installation was being set up. Askandar met his wife Tengku Idaura (a Kelantanese princess) in Paris in the late 1960s when they were both studying French and she has since become my friend too. I enjoy discussing art with Askandar and politics with Tengku Idaura who diligently keeps up with the blogs.

Meeting a few blogger friends in Penang was an unexpected bonus and a real treat. At Ricardo's opening I bumped into the très chic Estrelita Soliano Grosse, her affable husband Stephen, and their delectable nieces, Shakunthala and Vayshnavee.


A little later, Walski and his wife showed up and drove me to Paula Khoo's residence off Green Lane where other friends (mostly bloggers) had gathered with a delicious potluck dinner to belatedly celebrate Paula's birthday.

Standing (L-R): Peng, Yew See, Walski, Philip, Daniel, Paula, Antares, Jong; Kensan (seated)

In real life, Paula Khoo is a personable powerhouse of a multi-tasker with a truly generous heart - someone I'm genuinely glad to call a friend. Walski, like his blog, is instantly befriendable and ever so smart. Daniel YKL lost his voice to laryngeal cancer a few years ago but remains irrepressibly cheerful and expressive, a most lovable guy indeed. Kensan offered me a lift back to Askandar's house and we ended up chatting till past 4.30AM. Discovered Kensan was a former banker with the most adventurous past anyone can possibly imagine!

NIGHTMARE JOURNEY HOME

As to be expected I slept right through my cellphone alarm and by the time I was ready to catch the bus home, it was past 3PM. When I got to the Sungai Nibong bus terminal I was told no tickets to Ipoh were available until 4:45PM, so I sat around drinking coffee with Askandar (right) till it was time to board the bus. The traffic was dense as hordes of holidaymakers were heading home. Shortly after Butterworth the blue sky gave way to a torrential rainstorm which made progress even slower.

The fat guy seated beside me busied himself with a portable video game and, I suspect, let out gas several times - the silent but deadly type. I began to feel claustrophobic and yearned for the good old days before airconditioning when bus windows could be opened to let out fetid air.

To compound my discomfort, the cold, wet weather took its toll on my bladder. After 20 minutes of trying to focus on other matters, the need to urinate turned into an intense preoccupation and blotted out all other considerations. I politely asked the bus driver to pull up at the next petrol station and he reassured me that the bus would be stopping just up ahead. That "up ahead" went on another ten minutes or so with no stop in sight...

I told the driver the situation was becoming urgent and he again insisted the restroom stop was mere minutes away. Rather than create a commotion by grabbing the wheel and forcing the driver to stop, I decided to unload at least part of the contents of my bursting bladder into the half-bottle of drinking water I had on hand. The fat guy beside me was fast asleep and the passenger across the aisle was looking blankly ahead. Furtively I unzipped my fly and inserted the tip of my willy into the bottle... aaaaaahhh.... blessed relief! The bottle was too small to hold the entire contents of my distended bladder but enough had been discharged to minimize the discomfort. I screwed the bottle cap back on and zipped up discreetly. Long time since I've lived so dangerously - boy, it felt really good!



The rain was still pissing down when we got to Ipoh around 8PM - too late to catch a connecting bus to Tanjong Malim where I had parked my van. "Try the train," the bus driver had suggested, so I walked ten minutes in the heavy drizzle to the Ipoh train station. There I was told the next train south would depart at 1:12AM, but only 3rd class tickets were available. No problem - but now I had a 5-hour wait ahead of me. Next to the station the century-old Majestic Hotel was advertising rooms at RM73 nett, RM40 for 4 hours. I figured I owed it to myself to spend the next few hours in relative comfort and booked a room for 4 hours.



Only problem was, there were no food outlets at the Majestic Hotel. The nearest eating place was a Mamak restaurant 15 minutes' walk in the steady drizzle away. Finally at 12:30AM I checked out and made my way to the station where I discovered a landslide near Taiping had blocked the tracks.


Nobody could say when the southbound train would arrive. I attempted to take a nap in a corner of the station but a raucous group of backpacking youths generated enough noise to wake up an entire cemetery. Each time I enquired at the office I was told something different. One KTM employee nonchalantly suggested I catch the early commuter to KL at 5AM. Then the signboard on the platform began flashing the ominous announcement that the next train to KL would depart at 9AM...



By this time the entire journey home had acquired a distinctly surreal atmosphere. I felt like I was trapped in a labyrinth in some interminable bad dream where the moment you think you've reached your destination the place transforms into some other location. Who could possibly have expected that a simple bus journey from Penang to Tanjong Malim could stretch out beyond 14 hours... which is ultimately how long it took me to get home (the southbound train eventually left Ipoh just before 4AM)!

The overwhelming joy I felt when I reached my van and found it safe and sound... it was at that moment I knew what my resolution for 2009 was going to be. Like Dorothy after her adventures in the Land of Oz, I resolved that in 2009 I will not leave home just to be sociable and obliging. The only inducements that might tempt me to venture beyond KL would be the offer of a substantial amount of cash (nothing less than 50k!)... or a weekend of uninhibited, uncomplicated, unprecedented sex.

View from my veranda

[Additional photography by Estrelita Soliano Grosse and Paula's husband, Khor]