To anyone who struggles with abstraction, I would say you need to go and see a show of Oscar Murillo. In fact, go to the opening, see people moving around the works, look at the way people move their bodies to the brushstrokes, think of your walk or drive to the gallery, think of graffiti, of advertisements, of being a bored kid scribbling in your notebook in class, think of history, and time, and let that sink in and tell me you aren’t moved by this work.
Murillo opened el pozo de agu at Kurimanzutto this week in Mexico City, a fitting artist to showcase during one of the city’s big art dates. This is the second time I have walked into one of Murillo’s shows and been completely transfixed. A few years back, at David Zwirner in NYC, you could still smell the oil paint from his canvases as you walked into the space, a sort of romantic but surreal experience of being surrounded by the scent of the massive artworks around you. For el pozo de agu, you walk into what almost appears to be a graffiti jam; an interactive piece that sort of stuns you in its intensity and beautiful invitation to add to artwork that feels alive. Curtains are then used to create an illusion of a dream, of being lost and then finding something meaningful. It’s a beautiful addition. And of course, the works themselves, some hung on walls, some hanging from the celling, some coming off of plastic chairs, all simulating that art can be everywhere and spring to life right in front of you.
This is where the abstraction feels so meaningful. I don’t know if the Colombian artist every did graffiti in the Os Gemeos-style of characters and letters, but something about the movement of graffiti and the layers it can reveal of time and history in a place, influences Murillo. The works feel communal but his. He is famed for often working from pieces of canvas that have been in the studio over long periods of time, which also tells the story of his own universe. When we think about time, about space and place, Murillo rises to the occasion, over and over again. —Evan Pricco reporting from Mexico City
