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Art Note From Art Basel: Dave Tourje, Evel Knievel and The Duende Spirit

 

 

Dave Tourjé, 2 Late 4 Luck, 2014, mixed media



Art Note From Art Basel:
Dave Tourjé, Evel Knievel and The Duende Spirit.

They cared about me because I did things other men were afraid to do.

                                                                                                      - Evel Knievel

Walking about CONTEXT in Wynwood, Miami, during this year's Art Basel extravaganza, I spotted an Dave Tourjé masterpiece at Mat Gleason's Coagula Curatorial booth. The painting, 2 Late 4 Luck bespeaks of that moment in-between moments that often finds one between a rock and a hard place. Or, in the case of Evel Knievel, mid-air over the Grand Canyon on a motorcycle.  The painting's  cryptographic words, markings, numerals, and visuals read like a primordial incantation, a sacred offering emanating off the wall.  The smooth surface and gleaming pictographs along with the painting's over-life-size, totemic-cross shape produce an air of heraldic bearing which lends importance, monumentality and historicality to the work.  Symbolism emblazoned on Tourjé's escutcheon: A horseshoe (that magical and superstitious charm the world over), the number '4' (symbolic for 'good luck' in Chinese culture), and a black cat (a symbol of evil omens in Western cultures). Imagery consists of a skier jumping (or falling?) off an 80' drop, a surfer catching a big wave,  two skaters (one a portrait of the artist, the other his friend and pioneer in extreme sports, Elliot Mills) grinding along the edge of an empty pool in a SoCal hood, and of course, Evel Knievel,  the mad daredevil on his bike; 2 Late 4 Luck is a celebration of people, to the Ying and Yang in life and the lucky/unlucky mystical turns of fate surrounding life's ultimate pursuit: survival. 2 Late 4 Luck  is a homage to humanity, to man (the individual human), to the maverick, the risk-taker, the adventurer, to those not shy of grabbing the proverbial bull by the horns. But it is also this: A pictorial evocation to the duende spirits.  

From deep within ancient Iberian lands, El Duende,  the fairy or hobbit-like creature in Spanish folklore from where the word duende derives, chooses you, you don't choose it. To have duende  is to have soul, to exude life in the face of death, to be authentic, and to stand tall with courage in order to backdown from absolutely nothing. Bravery is paramount. Unlike a muse that could physically exist in the flesh and be hand-picked by an artist (think Picasso taking Dora Maar),  El Duende (as selective as Picasso) is more elusive spirit than tangible asset.  El Duende is that which pulls your hairs on the back of your neck up when standing on a steep ledge and whispers in your ear: I dare you.  El Duende, for those aiming at absolute artistry, assists at cutting through the bullshit in life , at guiding the choosen to the very edge of everything, to a never boring place, to that inbetween and unnamble spot where time stands still; between nothingness and paradise yet always titillatingly on the cusp of danger  -as in the bullring or inside the barrel of a wave. El Duende takes the creative beyond sanity but not yet entirely to the cuckoo's nest; restores the mojo and fills the sails enabling the writer, the poet, the painter to work all night, and everynight in order to practice and pursue artistic truth. El Duende is the mediator of death and never bespell their magic upon the faint of heart or to those without a serious set of cojones. It is why legions of fans the world over loved Evel Knievel, a duende spirit incarnate, because he did those things most of us are afraid to do (and because he took us along for the thrills). But El Duende loves too the spectator/passenger with equal measure the artist/performer,  and will -when standing before awe-inspiring feats of artistry-  seize the captivated by the jugular to stir round and round their physical and emotional response to the art in order to remind them their own mortality. And murmur effectively in their ear: 'Grow some fucking balls, son. Make life a joyride.'

Evel Knievel once said: "Anybody can jump a motorcycle. The trouble begins when you try to land it."  2 Late 4 Luck, a visual feast proffered by the duende spirit, captures that sentiment brilliantly. WM

 

 

Gregory de la Haba

Gregory de la Haba is an artist and writer from New York City.

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