Under the Waqwaq Tree

Opening Reception: Saturday, October 16 | 3-7pm

Anna Betbeze / Patricia Domínguez / Katie Dorame / Nilbar Güreş / Michelle Handelman / Sahar Khoury / Cathy Lu /
Ranu Mukherjee / Shervone Neckles

Curated by Naz Cuguoğlu

Once upon a time, there was a tree on a far far away island. On this tree grew female creatures, reproducing and self-perpetuating in an endless cycle. You could hear their screams “waq! waq!” at night as they ripened and dropped to the ground.

Same story, different names — Waq Waq in medieval Arab geographical and imaginative literature, Nariphon in Buddhist mythology, Jinmenju in Japanese legends, Zaqqum in the Quran — this is a tale with many echoes across time and geographies. A speculative fabulation, an illusion: Can you prove it did not happen?

Under the Waqwaq Tree brings fabulous creatures and ferocious monsters into the exhibition space to tell stories of the “other” — the so-called aliens (legal or illegal), the ones who have been deemed “mad,” the historically and systemically underrepresented and oppressed. Alongside the Waqwaq tree of many names, there is the mother goddess of Chinese mythology, Nüwa’s long nails; the Jab Jab Woman of the Grenadian masquerade in the form of a Terciopelo (the Caribbean viper); the blinded toucan of South America's rainforests, the special bird sacred to the Incas and revered by the Maya; a lonely vampire, and more. They appear to be mythological stories. When you scratch the surface though, they speak of history and current geopolitical issues: India’s and Grenada’s fights against colonial power; forest fires in the Amazon and a revolution in Chile; racialized hierarchies of nail salons; queer identity and desire. They tell stories that cannot be told by other means for many reasons, including political and personal ones (the personal is political if you need a reminder).

We tell these tales from one generation to the next; we scream at night; we are tired. Does our poetic language sound like silence to you? Good. It is intentional: We use silent metaphors and fragmented narratives to listen and to speak nearby. We are louder than you think. We keep the fire burning at night so we can sit by it to tell these stories until dawn.

“There is one mark you cannot beat, the mark inside,” Musidora, the French silent film actress, says.

This show is dedicated to all those fabulous mercurial beings: half-human, half-snake like Shahmaran, neither here nor there but stuck at the A'raf, in limbo between heaven and hell. Fluid and bubbling, an Água Viva, this is a tale about hybrid creatures and magical transformations. It is a mirror for those who are mourning for the loss of identity or community. Psychoanalytically speaking, the works in the show create a shift in time and place, or an allegory with layered meanings, underlying and persisting.

waq! waq! waq!!!

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