.jpg)
mother Zoe
I met Constanza Oxenford in her condition of skillful and sensitive photographer. At the same time, I knew immediately that her ductility in this field was also evidence of a restless vocation to advance expressively in other fields, such as graphic practice and, opportunely, in the testimonial rescue and installation languages, physiognomies that she now exhibits in MOTHER ZOE.
Oxenford successfully articulates the coordinated functionality of essay and personal archive, poetic elaboration and intimate revelation; a peculiar coexistence in diversity that in this case seems more necessary than ever, given the spiritual and ethical demands that the artist had imposed on herself when approaching the project.
Where the landscape of the individual world stands as analogous to the conjuncture of the other, close to definitely shared, more collective, more universal emotions and vicissitudes, the sonority of social reflection becomes inexcusable, an essential ingredient that is perfectly in tune with those other demands. that, in addition to the artistic, occupy the hours and energies of Constanza, and that she, here, will surely want to keep in reserve.
As can be seen, the exhibition consists of a two-dimensional montage of a series of photographs in counterpoint, related to the territorial, biographical, characterological and affective fields that define the story and the profile of its two main characters, illuminated in a kind of prismatic portrait: with Oxenford in the triple role of narrator, witness and co-protagonist. In the manner of a panoramic constellation, a puzzle of words, texts, documentary records, drawings and confessional contributions appeal with unwavering honesty not only to the viewer's emotionality, but also to its critical consciousness. This network of clear intentions and pressing objectives, moved by the urgency of turning what could have been reduced to a mere melancholy anecdote into a broader impact scenario, is what turns MADRE ZOE into a virtual love manifesto with flashes of chronicle of customs, a multifaceted device that makes it easier for us to skip the simple formal enjoyment to commit ourselves to a more compassionate notion of what is human.
Eduardo Stupía
.jpg)
There are two clocks and many memories. A poetic search that at times becomes dizzying and, at others, tense calm. There is play, prying and a silent question that turns every time we think we find a possible answer.
We all know that time is a tyrant and that its passage is inevitable and yet Constanza Oxenford proposes to dance a slow dance with it. Of course there is no lack of mutual suspicions, she does not seem to feel completely calm, she knows that it is someone important, even someone who transcends her, perhaps as much as when Borges speaks of that singular moment that makes us become aware of eternity. And he does so by recovering a sentence from William Blake, the “great English mystic”, who says: “Time is the gift of eternity”.
How to approach time as an idea, as a perception, as a signifier? How to live consciously with its daily presence that transforms each second into a past and enters the body to speak?
Yes. The body is spoken by time, just like everything around us. It is about traces, signs, experiences, many of which entered through the pupils and are preserved under the skin.
Dancing a slow dance with you is the image of a memory that makes us fall in love again. That reminiscence that makes time stop in our memory like an eternal present, superimposing images and experiences, as if they were all happening at the same time.
Crossed by time or assumed as part of it, Cotty Oxenford's photographs seem to speak to time and even contradict it. Are we, the photographs, truly the most palpable part of what was? Are we a document of death or a testimony of life?
And what about the camera? Much has been said about it: that it can be a weapon or a shield, also that it can act as a simple tool that allows us to avoid or disorient the passage of time.
Perhaps it is a spell. Through her photographs and videos, Cotty Oxenford senses that something is not working quite right, that time is not linear, that clocks can stop and images can sometimes stubbornly become embedded in memory. And that perhaps, instead of fighting with the despot, it is better to let ourselves be carried away by that eternal present that makes us smile almost imperceptibly when, at the right moment, we are asked to dance.
Florencia Battiti – Fernando Farina
