Protest with Rubén Ortiz-Torres at the Wallach

Ruben Ortiz-Torres; “Burnt”, 2020 - Urethane and crystals on decommissioned Tijuana police car hood; 48 x 62 x 7 inches.

By JOHN DRURY May 6, 2025

When striving beyond the mere decorative in pursuit of producing a greater statement in the arts, timing is everything. The best in art, is a reflection of the day’s events in which it is made, and the greatest artists seem to have the ability to see concurrently then, beyond that constructive moment, also forward. And with the tenets of free speech currently under attack, in America, were this informative exhibition of the works by provocateur Rubén Ortiz-Torres to have happened any further into our year, it would not likely, have been mounted. Exhibition curator and Director of the Wallach Gallery (a Columbia University affiliate), “squeaked one by”, and in just the nick of time as it turns out; perfectly placed, before the moments assault on the visual arts and its venues, by the current MAGA administration in power. Betti-Sue Hertz, is to be applauded for her “eye”, her guile and her bravery.

As bookended by the January inauguration of Donald Trump, the face of our current hard-right regime, and the March arrest of Columbia graduate student Mahmoud Kahlil (for his protest against Israel’s war in Gaza and the universities investment ties to Israel), the stupendous exhibition of Rubén Ortiz-Torres is, hands down – for my two cents – both the most refreshingly relevant, and best presentation so far this year, in New York City.

Ortiz-Torres addresses the history of colonization with his work, as the subject is tempered through the lens of movements in crisis. The proverbial trickster, his is a sometimes humorous and certainly provocative, spin on the repressive absurdities of topics as simple as the blind appropriation of imagery from indigenous populations, in American sports, to the crisis of inequity as sparked by Covid, to the Black Lives Matter movement. Ortiz-Torres understands the power of humor, in fruitful insubordination unfortunate events. 

Protest sticker in support Columbia graduate student Mahmoud Khalil, at crosswalk, outside of Ruben Ortiz-Torres exhibition at the Wallach Gallery; NYC (photo by Drury).

There is in the genius of a glitter-bombed police car hood (Glitter Revolution, 2022), memorializing a 2019 protest sparked by the rape of a 17-year-old girl by four policemen and the persistent mistreatment of women in Mexico, something uncomfortably loveable. It’s a gay turquoise. What’s not to like? And the warm feeling leaves us then, feeling complicit; even unarmed. As fueled in the knowledge of history, literature, low and high brow cultures, Ortiz-Torres strikes at the heart of humanity with an uncanny ability to speak to the masses. His too, is the practice of the anthropologist, as moderated with a deft eye, and truly caring reserve.

Rubén understands our animalistic proclivities. And so, where there is light, there is inevitably dark, and “Burnt”, another decommissioned car hood from that same year and simply presented “as-is”, or as was found, serves as both forensic evidence and a historical document of the cartel violence ravishing his country. If Donald Trump’s attack since, on the Smithsonian Museum (the jewel in the crown of American culture) is indicative what is in store for us, this may be the last of what we will see, for at least the next four years, in any institution federally funded, of exhibited content that is celebratory the freedom of protest. We are reminded in the practice of Rubén Ortiz-Torres, that art must remain at liberty of interference by politic. Ours now, is an offensive societal landscape to be negotiated, of daily censoring addendum, by a party of perpetrator’s fascist leaning. I have to wonder if peaceful protest as defense, is any longer, effective in garnering change. There is yet, so much work to be done by the revolutionary. WM