Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Rodrigo Arruda. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Rodrigo, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. We’d love to hear about a project that you’ve worked on that’s meant a lot to you.

My first experience working with performance happened in 2018, right after the Brazilian presidential election, which was won by a neo-fascist candidate. Around that time, I collaborated with the residents of Pivô Research Residency (in São Paulo) for a group show that touched on the experience of the political moment at that time. The result was a one-day exhibition titled “Inauguração Oficial da Represa do Pacaembu” (Official Inauguration of the Dam of Pacaembu). The show took place in a collective art studio at a decaying mansion in the neighborhood of Pacaembu, which used to be a very high-class area decades ago. For the exhibition I hired Itha Rocha, one of the few remaining professional mourners in Brazil (whose last name, curiously, means “Rock” in Portuguese). Dressed in luxury brands, she remained seated in the same place, crying for the whole duration of the event.

The performance provoked interesting reactions in the audience. Many in the audience didn’t know what to do, or what would be the most “appropriate” reaction to Rocha’s tears. The fact that there were no signs informing the audience that this was an artwork made the reactions even more intriguing. Some would see Itha and offer her a glass of water, whereas others would not even notice her and had no idea that someone was performing right there. When Itha and I discussed the project, she asked me how she was supposed to act in case someone tried to interact with her, and I suggested that she act like a snob rich woman (someone that, in my imagination, had lived in that house before its decay). Another interesting layer of the piece involved the fact that Itha was one of the few Black women present at that opening, and that she was there because she had been hired by me, someone who, in Brazil, is considered White. So the piece ended up touching on a matter of racial access, which is: who gets to be at the opening to enjoy themselves, and who was present because they had to work?

Rodrigo, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I was born and raised in São Paulo, Brazil, and I studied visual arts at the Universidade de São Paulo (from which I earned my BFA in 2018). I moved to Los Angeles in 2021 to pursue my MFA at CalArts, and I have been working here since. In the last ten years I have experimented with many different mediums, materials, concepts, etc. These elements vary considerably depending on the context and systems in which I am entangled. My thesis show at CalArts “EAT YOU” (2022) is a good example. After arriving in LA, I began re-exploring Oswald de Andrade’s “Anthropophagous Manifesto” (1928). This text is a milestone for Brazilian and Latin-American art, and it investigates relations between Brazilian identity and colonialism, while encouraging the subversion of the colonial order through the act of eating, digesting, and regurgitating the colonizer’s culture. I developed each piece of my thesis using a different material and a different part of the body (mouth, voice, face, skin, torso), in a process of dismemberment and self-cannibalizing.

One of the works I developed for my thesis is “Cruzeiro do Sul” (“Southern Cross” or “Crux”). It is named after an important constellation in Brazilian history, which was used as a sky-compass by the first colonizers to land in Brazilian lands. It received the name “Southern Cross” because the alignment of the stars resembles a cross that points south – in addition to the fact that the constellation can only be seen from the Southern hemisphere. It has since become a ubiquitous symbol in Brazil, and it is present in the Brazilian flag. This inspired me to create my own flag using the same constellation. However, in my piece, the main color of the flag is black, like a dark sky or some kind of affirmative absence, and the constellation is flipped, disoriented; pointing nowhere north. The intent was to think of somewhere that hasn’t been captured nor described by cartographic coordinates. A direction, but not necessarily an end point.

What do you find most rewarding about being a creative?

I am very grateful that I can change my practice according to the different moments in my life. In the last two years, performance became central to my practice. It is fascinating to conceive my body as my studio, which I can carry anywhere I go. Recently, I performed at “nada de declarar”, a group reading curated by Fía Benitez and organized by Bryan Munguia, for the closing reception of “Mercancía de Pacotilla”, an amazing exhibition by Marek Wolfryd. For my performance I carried an inflatable eagle costume (which for the show was deflated) to the center of the room. I decided to use the eagle as a symbol of American imperialism, which I treated with irony considering how funny and odd the deflated inflatable eagle costume was. I then placed the eagle on the ground, and began to remove different props from its inside, as if I was dissecting it. I removed a mannequin torso covered in resin (which I have used in different works), a smiling mask, and latex black horns, and arranged them into one piece. Once I had all the objects set up, I performed the “Zombie Cattle” manifesto in Brazilian Sign Language. I associate cattle with the total annihilation of individuality, as well with the brutal commodification and consumption of flesh. In this manifesto, however, the cattle subverts the power relationship through the image of the zombie. The zombie has already lost its life, but refuses to die. It has lost all hope, but continues to move. The “Zombie Cattle” is also no longer edible, and it can make the colonizers part of its herd, forcing them to face their own repressed cannibalistic desires.

I have been working with the layering and accumulation of different references, which is manifested in the use of various props, masks, and costumes. With it, I explore layers of artificiality that conceal but at the same time reveal. To me, this layering also speaks about the experience of working in different contexts, and the fact that each element can mean something completely different depending on where it is being used and who the viewer is. The use of a mask or a fabric concealing my face also poses the question: who is performing? Myself, the artist, or the performer-character-persona?

Is there a particular goal or mission driving your creative journey?

I believe in working towards critical thinking, which I understand to be a proactive and often provocative kind of self awareness, where questions posed by the artist have a meaningful impact on others and on society. Working in between Brazil and the US helped me to realize that I have to be thoughtful of the referential behind each work. This will be especially important for a project that I am developing for Bienal Sur (International Biennial of Contemporary Art of the South), which will involve sign languages from different countries. I have been passionate about languages for many years (I chose to learn Portuguese, English, Spanish, French) and in 2019 I started to study Brazilian Sign Language (LIBRAS). Sign languages in general are extremely visual, and facial and body expressions are just as important as the words themselves. What started out as an interest in that language quickly became a strong involvement with the Deaf community in São Paulo and the beginning of a lifelong passion, perhaps even stronger than my passion for art.

I was able to explore this interest in a recent show called “Swept Away: Love Letters to a Surrogate” (curated by Anuradha Vikram, Christina Strassfield, and Renee Petropoulos), which took place in LA and NYC. For this show, I walked from the Brazilian Embassy in Los Angeles to the exhibition’s site at Santa Monica’s beach (a 11 miles/18 km walk). Once I got there, I extended the flag “Cruzeiro do Sul” on the ground, its stars pointing south, and buried it with sand, leaving only the stars uncovered. I then began walking backwards onto the ocean, while I performed a text in Brazilian Sign Language that asked questions such as: “What are your oceans? How salty are you?” until I was submerged by the ocean water.

I have seen more flags here in Los Angeles in the last two years than in my entire life in Brazil. Many houses and establishments here hold the US American flag, and I have seen immense flags around the freeways as well. I believe that this unconsciously inspired me to create my own series of flags, which could speak to my own identity, sense of belonging, and the experience of cultural displacement.

Contact Info:

• Website: www.rodrigoarruda.com
• Instagram: @rodrigoarrudaproto

Image Credits
@anyagta4ever