The bodega is a New Yorker’s corner shop; a place of near-infinite cultural and alimentary diversity. Bodegas are the inspiration for this show of rough drawings, collaged paintings, sculptures and installations by New York artist Tschabalala Self – they’re her convenience store muse, her offie animus.
Self is a political, strong-willed artist who explores themes around the black body and its place in society. So the attraction to bodegas is obvious. The bodega is, by design and intention, a mixed space where Mexican beans nestle next to American candy, where whatever you need, wherever you’re from, is given equal billing. She treats the bodega as a living, cross-cultural archive. She draws bottles of bleach, stacks of scratchcards, piles of nappies. There are big sculptures of the shop cat, an oversized crate, photos of the insides of shops. But it’s not all about the product. This is the bodega as a space of romantic potential, too. Self paints characters in amongst the cramped aisles of cheap beer and fizzy pop – the embrace near the freezer, hitting on each other by the fridge while a shopkeeper watches over. Black bodies are depicted as these strong, exaggerated, powerful figures in among the cornucopia of products.
The bodega becomes a vital, necessary and economical world of love and internationalism. It’s a safe space full of the danger of the ‘other’. Self’s aesthetic isn’t as daring, bold or adventurous as her ideas, frustratingly. This isn’t great painting, but it is positive, angry, sensual and affirmative; and it really makes me want to pop out for a bottle of export Guinness and some green Rizla.
@eddyfrankel
