A whole caravan of bicycle taxis was advancing down San Agustin, Havana’s 250th Street and a few others, carrying costumed and made-up people who threw grains of rice at passersby. No one knew the reason behind this performance…
Yanelys Nuñez’s Diary
At the beginning of the year, while studying the work of Cuban artist Antonio Nuñez (1971), I came across a series produced in 2009, in which different scenes from films by Buñuel, Godard, Truffaut and others are rendered on canvas.
I went to see Marylin Solaya’s Vestido de Novia (“Wedding Dress”) with high expectations, after hearing much praise for the film during its screening at the Havana Film Festival last December.
On January 28, we took down the pieces of one of the best exhibitions organized at our gallery in 2014. Antonio Nuñez Hernandez is a Cuban artist born in Camaguey who has been living in Germany for more than 10 years. (8 photos)
Perhaps I am being overly critical and possibly unfair, but one gets tired of being understanding and seeing the same muck swept under the carpet over and over again.
Though some home-made shoes have rather nasty designs, I do find some models that appeal to me and I enjoy wearing. What’s more, the products sold at the government’s hard-currency stores are anything but attractive.
At the close of December, an exhibition by visual artist Israel Castellanos, funded with a Estudio 21 curator fellowship which the artist received in 2013, opened at Havana’s Center for the Development of the Visual Arts. Estudio 21 sponsors an exhibition of this nature every year. (5 photos)
The premiere of director Juan Carlos Cermata Malberti’s Cloaca (“Sewer”), a version of the suggestively titled play by Dutch author Maria Goos, was recently staged at Havana’s El Sotano theater.
New Year’s is nearing and it feels as though the end of the world is upon us. Cubans scramble to buy as much food as their few or abundant savings allow them. Yes: having a warm, tasty, longed-for meal is what makes the end of the year a true festivity.
The house where my father, aunts and many of my cousins were born is falling apart. Located in a small town (Guara) in some distant corner of today’s province of Mayabeque, the small, wooden, tile-roofed house is the definition of neglect.