Tucson, AZ: Tohono Chul: Tubes

Tohono Chul exhibit - Chubasco! by Monica Zavala-Durazo. Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

The thing about art is that you can conceive it and give birth to it, and it will be imbued with your artistic DNA, but once you release it to the wild, you have zeero control over the meaning that others put on it. .... Warning: This is watchacall foreshadowing.

Tohono Chul exhibit - Chubasco! by Monica Zavala-Durazo. Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

On two visits to Tohono Chul, I visited Monica Zavala-Durazo's exhibit, which she titled Chubasco. The tubes represented a fond childhood experience related to her daddy and a memorable wash of rain.

Tohono Chul exhibit - Chubasco! by Monica Zavala-Durazo. Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

The tubes, suspended from the ceiling, invited me to stand beneath them and to look up.

Tohono Chul exhibit - Chubasco! by Monica Zavala-Durazo. Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

There is something about an object that, if solo, may or may not be particularly interesting, but en masse, creates a presence.

Tohono Chul exhibit - Chubasco! by Monica Zavala-Durazo. Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

I liked the colored, seemingly random threads that dangled from the tubes.

Tohono Chul exhibit - Chubasco! by Monica Zavala-Durazo. Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

 
A video of Ms. Zavala-Durazo's work below, created from both of my visits:

There was something, something, something else that made me mentally cock my head to the side, and wonder, what do these tubes remind me of?

Tohono Chul exhibit - Chubasco! by Monica Zavala-Durazo. Tucson, Arizona. April 2019.

Ohhh [gears whirring] .....got it! ........ horse peñises. You know how you're standing along a pasture fence and there's a gelding within, and you notice how he's letting down his peñis from the sheath a bit, then retracting, then letting down a different length, then retracting. It is difficult to turn away, as it elicits both a scientific and lurid fascination.

Which reminds me. Did I ever tell you about that time my mother took me to a semeñ auction? I swear to God. Every once in awhile, the woman throws out a real curve ball. And if I tie this memory to the art, I will always remember the succinct judgment she handed down on my very first piece of art that I bought for a sizable-to-me price: "The colors are lurid."


But getting back to Ms. Zavala-Durazo's installation. Any time you capture someone's attention for your work, you can call it a success, yes? I think so.


A slide show of all of my Tohono Chul visits:

[Note: To save the time and energy of those who are surfing for more specific pages re: male anatomy, I've tossed an ñ into the works instead of an n.]