In ‘In the Name of Love,’ Pia continues her exploration that defines her works: the picturesque portrayal of the human body. The inherent fluidity serves as both a medium and an end in itself, facilitating an understanding and sensation of the body, relationships, and context.
Within this exhibition, the atmosphere surrounding the experience of love blossoms as an alternative means to address the unspoken. This thematic approach is mirrored in the accompanying text, which draws inspiration from the poetic and autobiographical aspects present in the correspondences. The letter isn’t directed towards anyone specific; rather, it consists of fragments of the love that Pia has chosen to share. It doesn’t aim to present a comprehensive discourse on love; instead, it takes the form of a series of questions directed into the void.
In the artist’s own words, the paintings within ‘In the Name of Love’ stand as an ode to both triumph and defeat.
Curatorial text:
Letters
to Pia:
What do we mean when we talk about love?*
We utter ‘love’ just as we say ‘water,’ ‘flower,’ ‘horse.’
I immerse myself in love like one traversing a dimly lit corridor, anticipating a stumble, a shadow, a figure. Sometimes, after love, it’s like wandering blindly through that dim corridor when my vision clouds. I recall the horses I glimpsed from the window of my childhood home, the horse I yearned for as a child. Horses bring to mind fog, something about conclusions, revealing and troubling, the specter of all potential endings. Escaping the fog on horseback—does it signify fleeing from pain, from those thoughts that linger in my mind, prompting recollections?
Love encompasses myriad meanings; perhaps words aren’t sufficient to express the significance of certain things. It arises from the multiplicity of personal experiences. In “In Praise of Love,” Badiou (2011) conveys his conviction that love is a collective sentiment, broadly contributing to individual meanings of life. It also entails risks and demands defense against commercialization, requiring constant reinvention.
As an alternative to conventional love, a different form emerges: self-love, loving in a distinct manner—not from universality or privilege, but from freedom, reciprocity, and responsibility.
When discussing love, do we speak from its beginnings or its endings?
From the traces of something lost yet still felt within the skin, a memory etched into the body. Speaking about love is also discussing the body, eroticism, pleasure, but also the narratives coursing through the body. From desires and yearning, the various forms of romantic love, and the lessons of romantic love that need unlearning. How did we learn to love? Simone de Beauvoir (2017) asserted that one isn’t born a woman; one becomes a woman. Similarly, we learned to love through experience, happiness, pain, idealization, and imagination.
Confronting the experience of love with Pia, through the epistolary lens, something emerges from absence and anguish—enticements that challenge me, fragments, shattered faces, evoking a sense of fragmentation. Fragments of the love Pia has chosen to share—rather than a discourse on love, it’s akin to a question to the void: what follows after love?
An apparent calm prevails, yet something stirs in the depths.
We say ‘love’ just as we say ‘window,’ ‘fog,’ ‘end.’
Riding is always poetic.
To love is a leap of faith.
Hi Cris:
After reading your text, I’m composing a response now.
I contemplate the multitude of unsent letters, the gaps they generate. I also ponder whether this letter ever had an intended recipient beyond myself. Perhaps it was merely another creation of my mind, a game I played with my own fragments, attempting to dispose of them elsewhere.
However, something did transpire, because it did. Yet, I remain unsure of what exactly occurred. I don’t comprehend what I await or who I’m anticipating. Could it be the specter of a specter? A staged scene, a game. If not, then what is it? How does one define the formless, and why does it invariably escape, spilling out due to a breach at the bottom of its container?
The image of a horse also crosses my mind as an emblem of escape. I considered it momentarily, before conceptualizing the transformation of this girl into someone who charges towards her objective, armed with a sword and fortified by confidence. Both acts hold the answer. Ultimately, only one can perish from its own demise.
Yet, in a bid to cast some illumination upon this dim corridor, I’m aware that all of this is transient. It serves as a reminder that every hour unfolds simultaneously, and these paintings stand as an ode to both triumph and defeat. The corridor, in reality, isn’t as dark as it appears.
Amidst numerous withered, shadowy flowers, bodies entwining, distant countenances, and a deceptive stillness, a promise resides.
Love is what endures when all else falters.
To endeavor is, in itself, a triumph.
Text by Cristina Ramírez and Pia Chavarría
*The title makes a reference to the collection of short stories by Raymond Carver, which shares the same name and was originally published by Anagrama in 1987.
Bibliographic References:
Badiou, A., & Truong, N. (2011). In Praise of Love. La Esfera de los Libros Editorial.
De Beauvoir, S. (2017). The Second Sex. Cátedra Editorial.
De la Cruz, J. (1985). Complete Poems and Prose Commentaries. Austral Editorial.
Lagarde, M. (2022). Feminist Keys for Negotiating Love. Siglo XXI Editores.
