Composed of 29 photos, taken in the form of a self–portrait, with the participation of nine actors who simulate, in different scenarios and contexts, a relationship with grandparents that she never had, Moník Molinet presents the exhibition “Borrowed Grandfathers and Grandmothers“, where she explores the limits between reality and performance, guided by the constant question of how much art can reconstruct and whether memories that never really existed can be created in pieces of stories.
“Borrowed Grandmothers and Grandfathers is a self-portrait project where I recreate family scenes in the domestic space of actors and actresses to create a non-existent memory for me: the relationship with my grandmothers and grandfathers,” says the artist in the letter of introduction of the work on social networks, where I found it under the username @lapistolademonik. In physical, the exhibition is part of the Havana Biennial, where it will be until February 28, at the Malecón Art 255. It has been awarded internationally at the Innovate Grant 2024 and, at the Biennial, it is presented as the artist’s debut.
Although it is the first time that I visit an exhibition without leaving the corner where my house is, Molinet’s exhibition touches closely. The faces are unfamiliar, but they could be.
Moník borrows memory in all its magnitude: through the image, the touch of the tablecloths returns, the smell of old kitchens, the sound of calm laughter. The first thing that caught my attention was the look on the camera, directly towards me, breaking that fourth wall that good photography knows how to break. The second, the brilliance of the idea.
The fact that Moník has been able to do what sometimes crosses my mind, in those simple moments that I ask to be eternal and that the soul does not know how to photograph. Moník, without his grandparents, was able to capture the closeness of mine.
She settled it with the memoirs that friends lent her. I suppose one of them told her about these simple times: waking up among your grandparents, in the unbearable heat of summer, but not wanting to be anywhere else.
The one about peeking into the kitchen and being scared away with a snap, but then being called to try. That of setting the table under the watchful eye of those who teach you, that they tell you that no one has ever done it better, but they do it well when you leave. That of holding the hand so that it sits carefully. That of holding his hand so that he says goodbye.
That of holding, well, very well, so that he is never alone. I suppose he listened well for that. Of others, he says that they were born from the projection of a personal desire. It is something like this that the artist achieves with it. It does not lose sense with social reality, of course: the exhibition of the work will be a place to collect donations that will be taken to the homes of grandparents, thanks to a collaboration with the Martin Luther King Center.
The message it conveys also has its social value, that of preserving the memory and care of the elderly. The cultural one, that which comes from representing a real house, a living room, a kitchen, a real patio. Yours or mine. Hers.
Moník Molinet does not mask the memory. As it should be. Without shame, without knowing whom, without remembering the name of that story. Moník exposes what she does not know. And that story, although borrowed, makes it his own.
By: María Karla Lam González/ Translated by Radio Angulo
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