Installation view of “A Trajectory of Grief” by Monica Martinez-Diaz at Women & Their Work
A Trajectory of Grief unfolds like an old, cherished photo album, with plastic spiral binding that squeaks with the turn of every thick page of yellowing adhesive and cracking protective sheet of mylar. This is an intimate show, where we see and experience a ball of emotions rolling through the confusing path of grief, which Monica Martinez-Diaz has captured with eloquence and grace. It is also a show of love for the memories and stories that remain with the living when those we love pass on, and it lays bare the desperation to hold those memories tight as they inevitably fade.
Notes on How to Remember, a text-based piece hiding in plain sight at the show’s entrance, is an emotional guide and a reminder of the weirdness we experience after losing a loved one. It’s a tiny collage with a dense cloud of black text of eight notes on how to remember next to a cluster of sentimental objects in white circles — like clip art — floating together in the top right corner. Each clip-art object corresponds to one of the eight notes on remembering: Note 1: “The impulse to archive to avoid forgetting,” Note 2: “Go fucking crazy,” Note 8: “Should I go to a therapist?” And so on.
Monica Martinez-Diaz, “Notes on How to Remember,” 2024, inkjet print on premium luster paper, 25 x 24 inches
We have all been here.
The exhibition requires macro and micro viewing, stepping away from the work and then getting really close to it over and over. This makes sense to me because grief is both big and ungraspable, as well as small and personal. Large images which are both soft in their muted lighting while crisp in texture and contrast are printed on adhesive vinyl extending along the walls, creating density within the exhibition. Some portray the back of an older woman who refuses to look directly into the camera, while others are intimate interiors with the lights off. We see a study filled with tchotchkes and framed mementos cluttering the space while the soft glow of sunset creeps through the black tulle curtains. In another image, two large glistening trees grow in front of a cement fence. Martinez-Diaz employs a subtle rhythm in the contrast of foreground and background. The foreground of the image of the study is dark, and the light beams through the window in the background. The next image is a shot of her grandmother wearing a white, oversized sweater, which dominates the foreground, while the background is dark and ambiguous.
Installation view of “A Trajectory of Grief” by Monica Martinez-Diaz at Women & Their Work
Martinez-Diaz doesn’t just play with the rhythm of the images in vinyl — she uses them to add yet another layer of complexity to the work and the story of her path of grief. Installed at random intervals on top of the vinyl images are smaller framed pieces that add to this foreground/background contrast. We see bits of a couple’s torso, an aerial view of Ciudad Juárez, a shelf with figurines, a wall made of gray concrete blocks, and so on until one tiny detail begins to stand out the most: bits of sky creeping into the images. The sky comes through in small bubbles, documenting the passing of a day, week, or year, or a sunny afternoon in the desert of Ciudad Juárez, all breaking through those very same concrete blocks. The sky becomes a timekeeper, a placeholder for memory, and inevitably a memento mori.
Installation view of “A Trajectory of Grief” by Monica Martinez-Diaz at Women & Their Work
Grief does weird things to the living. It is not enough to experience loss; the guilt of not being present adds to the mess of emotions, the impulse to collect and archive, and the anthropomorphization of objects in order to grasp at memories. To attribute the characteristics of the dead to the things they owned is a natural and dangerous impulse. I see this in the work of the second half of the show. We see black and white photos of the artist’s grandmother sitting quietly in profile or of her hands resting against her purse. Each individual image is framed by an intricate and delicate lace doily, the kind you find in the home of a grandparent. The stillness of the images allows the viewer a moment to reminisce. As I walked through the show I began to catch details within the images that reminded me of my own grandmother’s former home. A very textured still life made me think of the vases, candles, receptacles, and serving dishes delicately collecting dust on top of the oilcloth on her kitchen table.
“A Trajectory of Grief” by Monica Martinez-Diaz on view at Women & Their Work
A Trajectory of Grief is also an invitation to reminisce on grief, and it is an invitation that Martinez-Diaz extends gracefully. Hers is a story of grief that is both intimate and shared, at once lonely and loud; a messy ball of moving stillness under shifting skies and between the tchotchkes collecting dust, and in the dust itself. Martinez-Diaz has laid out both a story and an invitation to share in the fear and desperation that we all know too well.
Monica Martinez-Diaz: A Trajectory of Grief is on view at Women & Their Work in Austin through July 3, 2024.
