Degree in Art Education–Fine Arts from the Federal University of Pará.
2017 – Pintura ou Fotografia como Violência ( Palacio das Artes, Belo Horizonte)
2015 – Páginas Vermelhas”, Blau Projects, São Paulo, Brazil.
2015 – “Alistamento”, Cultural Centre Sesc Boulevard, Belém, Brazil.
SELECTED GROUP EXHIBITIONS
2020 – THE DISCOVERY OF WHAT IT MEANS TO BE BRAZILIAN at Mariane Imbrahim, curated by Hélio Menezes, Chicago (USA)
2014 – “Pororoca – A Amazônia no MAR”, Museum of Art of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
2014 – “Como falar de coisas que não existem”, 31st São Paulo Biennial, Brazil.
2013 – “Ruídos e Silêncios: Corpos Flutuantes”, Museum of the Federal University of Pará, Belém, Brazil.
2013 – “Amazônia, Lugar da Experiência”, Museum of the Federal University of Pará, Belém, Brazil.
2013 – “Circular Campina”, Atelier do Porto, Belém, Brazil.
2012 – “Amazônia, Lugar da Experiência”, Casa das Onze Janelas, Belém, Brazil.
2012 – “Amazônia, Ciclos de Modernidade”, Cultural Centre Bank of Brazil, Brasília, Brazil.
2012 – “Amazônia, Ciclos de Modernidade”, Cultural Centre Bank of Brazil, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
2012 – “O Triunfo do Contemporâneo”, Museum of Contemporary Art of Rio Grande do Sul, Porto Alegre, Brazil.
2012 – “Círio Nosso de Cada Dia”, Theodoro Braga Gallery, Belém, Brazil.
2012 – “Coletiva / Coletivos”, Atelier do Porto, Belém, Brazil.
2011 – 30th Art Salon of Pará, Historical Museum of the State of Pará, Belém, Brazil.
2010 – “Amazônia, a Arte”, Vallery Museum, Vitória, Brazil.
2010 – “Amazônia, a Arte”, Palácio das Artes, Belo Horizonte, Brazil.
2008 – “Corporaturas”, Historical Museum of the State of Pará, Belém,Brazil.
2008 – “Contiguidades: dos anos 1970 aos anos 2000”, Historical Museum of the State of Pará, Brazil.
2008 – “Eu, o Outro, Fortaleza”, Cultural Centre Fortaleza, Brazil.
2008 – “Acervo Onze Janelas, Gravura no Pará”, Museum Casa das OnzeJanelas, Belém, Brazil.
2008 – “Vertentes da Pintura Contemporânea”, Galpão das Artes, Marabá, Brazil.
2008 – “Vertentes da Pintura Contemporânea”, House of Culture of Castanhal, Brazil.
2007 – “Ser do que é Anônimo”, Institute of Arts of Para, Belém, Brazil.
2007 – “Encruzilhada”, Fidanza Gallery, Belém, Brazil.
2007 – 26th Art Salon of Pará, Historical Museum of the State of Pará,Belém, Brazil.
2007- “Experimento I”, Memorial dos Povos, Belém, Brazil.
2006 – 25th Salon Arte Pará, Historical Museum of the State of Pará,Belém, Brazil.
2006 – 12th University of the Amazon Salon of Small Formats, Graça Landeira Gallery, Belém, Brazil.
2005 – 5th Salon Primeiros Passos, Museum of Arts Brazil United States, Belém, Brazil.
2008 SIM Prize in the Visual Arts, Coletiva Corporaturas, Integrated System of Museums.
2007 2nd Grand Award, 26th Art Salon of Pará, Foundation Rômulo Maiorana.
2006 Acquisition Award, 25th Art Salon of Pará, Founation Rômulo Maiorana.
-Foundation Rômulo Maiorana, Belém, Brazil.
-Museum of Contemporary Art of Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil.
-Museum Casa das Onze Janelas, Belém, Brazil.
-Museum of the Federal University of Pará, Belém, Brazil.
-Museum of Art of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
ÉDER OLIVEIRA IN CONVERSATION WITH LUIZ CAMILLO OSORIO
I would like to start by asking you about your training as an artist. Did you attend Art school or are you a self-taught artist?
I was 18 when I arrived in Belém. Before that – in the village where I was born and raised – I didn’t have any contact with cultural institutions nor any formal means of access to artistic codes. I went to the capital, Belém, to study Fine Arts at Universidade Federal do Pará (UFPA), a public university. There, despite attending a regular university degree course, I was in touch with several languages and, having a natural ability to draw since an early age, I chose painting and started my own way of working based on the practice and observation of art works, mainly academic ones.
Did you start your career with graffiti? How do you feel about this confrontation on the streets, and how is it different from
exhibiting your work in museums and galleries?
I spent my childhood and teenage years in a small village, and was never street-savvy. My contact with graffiti and street art resulted from the impact of my urban intervention works – a description adopted from the very beginning, a result of a research I did in college on the work of other Brazilian artists. Thanks to that, these street artists embraced my work as belonging to urban languages, and that sparkled my interest about the subject. Today, respect for street artists codes is crucial for my actions; in addition to the permission of the owner of the wall to be painted, I never use a surface that already has the interference of a graffiti or even tagging without prior permission from the authors.
On a side note, I can’t use spray or other graffiti techniques, the street painting I do is based on a large-scale reproduction of easel painting. By contextualizing this work for presentation in institutional spaces, I try not to reproduce it as a copy, but rather to create a new work in every space, as in site-specific art. Beyond the initiative to bring to museums a social extract usually excluded from those spaces, still very reserved to a select audience who can master the formal codes of art and erudition, I try to bring to the viewer the idea of transience that painting suffers on the street, where each piece tends to be erased at the end of the event.
What were/are your major influences as an artist?
All of the studies done before the beginning of my current research were based on reflections about photography portraiture; photography artists and theoreticians who discussed the issue of identity. These are contained in my paintings, since they are always based on some printed reference. In addition to the need to deal with a particular social theme from the aesthetics of contemporary portrait, I was inspired by some contemporary artists who use urban interventions and actions, but, above all, I was inspired by existing photographic appropriations by Rosangela Rennó, and by the series “Sumaré”, by Alex Flemming. Those were the first two references that laid the ground for my early work.
Working on the streets implies facing the inattentive, moving gaze of passers-by. Working in institutional spaces implies facing an informed gaze instead, full of expectations about what one will see. Do you agree with that distinction? Which gaze is harder to mobilize?
I agree, the artwork out on the streets anticipates an immediacy for those who will confront it. The vibrant colors and the dimensions emerged to handle this dynamic. Works on display in institutional spaces, especially those painted directly on the wall, need to create mechanisms to justify their existence beyond reproduction, but this framework doesn’t come from a change in the painting technique; instead, it is a result of its own content. It is certainly still the image of an anonymous Amazonian who, as an individual, probably doesn’t have access to such spaces, but who, like the painting, can’t go unnoticed. This symbolism is, even today, what instigates me most in this presentation, and this is where I have concentrated most of my efforts.
How has the specific situation of Belém do Pará defined your professional pathway?
When I first came to Belém, I was in love with the city, its beauty, its issues. As a student at UFPA, I lived in the outskirts of Belém, and a mix of values built my perception about urban life. Without doubt Belém is an unique city when it comes to incoherence, and the violence that is parallel to the joy and the reception of the people produced in me, as well as in other local artists, an aesthetic quest materialized in a relatively natural way. To treat violence through portraits allows me to discuss my very existence in this town.
How do you see the articulation of the local and the global in your poetics?
I’m still building my perception about the role of my work in the world. The reflection on identity is a constant in art, and what I develop from this specific sample of the Amazonian population allows me to discuss universal themes such as poverty, marginality, ethics, the historical role of the colonized, and so on. These issues are not specific to Belém. Even so, when the work is exhibited within the Amazonian region, my work still has some peculiarities. When exhibited in a German city, it led to a
reflection about immigration on the local mayor’s speech. Such a perception was repeated in São Paulo, but there there is also the violence issue.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Luiz Camillo Osorio is the Curator of PIPA Institute, PIPA’s founder and Board Member. He is a Professor and current Director of the Philosophy Department at PUC-Rio. Camillo was the Curator of MAM-Rio between 2009 and 2015.
IN DIFFICULT TIMES, ART IS THE ONLY OPTION AGAINST VIOLENCE
“The Amazon is not for wimps”, goes a saying in Northern Brazil.
Extreme distances, poor roads, hard-to-reach places… Boats are one of the few transportation means flowing continuously through the rivers… flights are either too expensive or poorly planned within the region (in some cases, you need to go to Brasilia and from there back to another state of Northern Brazil). Speaking of art produced in the Amazon recalls numerous obstacles, exclusion, abandonment and violence, all of them factors that have historically characterized the region and insist on
defining space, impairing the life of the less privileged. Huge properties, the forest being destroyed and replaced by pastures and soybean plantations, which are currently a major contributing factor for deforestation, with enormous environmental impacts, whose production (nearly 80%) is destined for animal feed, an unjust setting in which virtually 100% of it comes from genetically modified soybeans.
The shortage of water that has alarmed the country was announced in a survey published in 2014, revealing the increasing destruction of forests in a report from INPE – Instituto Nacional de Pesquisas Espaciais (National Institute for Space Research). Billions of tons of water circulated to the Northeast and Southwest of Brazil through clouds, but the constant burning and deforestation have changed the patterns of atmospheric pressure, causing a decline in humidity. What does the future hold in such chaos?
In the Amazon, exploitation is continuous. The destruction of forests for the benefit of the celebrated “agribusiness”… the illegal
exploitation of timber … land conflicts, disrespect, violence against traditional communities which, expropriated or dispossessed of their lands, no longer possess means of living and have their dignity stained. The incidence or murders is large among the weak, oppressed and exposed to all kinds of abuse – they are stripped of everything and nothing good is offered to them.
It is about the inhabitants of this region that Éder Oliveira will launch his acute, unique vision – an environment in which opportunities for a decent future are so rare. The artist is not touched by the success but rather strives to, with attention and
humanity, face up to the reality around him and insists on calling the attention to the elimination processes that occur in such
territory. I met him in the dawn of his early creative sparks at the university, which at the time discussed identity, revealing the
intensity of issues that deepened the work that evolved from there. He was then the character itself, the subject of reflection in the search for understanding himself. Similar images from an identification document… His intense gaze stared at the viewer in a delicate impression on craft paper. Since then, a solid path developed a path full of criticism, in a live clash with its history, with a social history of the inhabitants of an Amazon that is quite different from the image publicized as the largest rainforest in the world, full of rivers, of endless green trees. No, this exotic, beautiful Amazonian paradise no longer exists – it was devastated by pastures, by plantations, by hydropower plants and by mining camps.
The Amazon burns in high fever and no longer lends itself to this image, because everything you see, including in the media, are
attacks on environmental reserves and indigenous peoples. We are talking about the spread of strains of bacteria on contaminated objects launched into the jungle to decimate indigenous peoples… ambushes, fires, mass slaughter of small farmers, as well as other wicked methods of exclusion and genocide.
The practice of rape has not changed much since the colonial period, at a time when a division was drawn between the State of
Grão-Pará and Maranhão (1621) and the State of Brazil; it just became more “sophisticated” as its wickedness increased… Anyway, at the end of the day, what does this have to do with Éder Oliveira’s art? Born in Northeastern Pará, in a village near the small town of Nova Timboteua, the son of a professor and a homemaker, the artist was raised in the Bragança region, surrounded by nature, his drawings and school activities. At the time, he did not perceive clearly that his town, with about 15,000 inhabitants, was an environment in which the Human Development Index (HDI), was declining; the situation was no different from other places in the Amazon, which has very low growth rates of education, health and source of income.
In his native town, this mestizo boy who knew how to draw was asked to do paintings on walls or illustrations for school papers.
When, a few years later, he moved to Belém to complete his studies, Éder broke free from a pattern he would not have the life that was expected of several of his colleagues who were not able to get out of their hometown. Living on the outskirts of a big city, he saw so many other migrants who had come to the capital in search of work and a better life, helping build a city, but who had no voice as compared to the decision makers. He rediscovered in the facial expression of individuals the mix that makes up the typical Amazonian man, whose marked facial features, intense expression and striking colour call his attention.
Upon entering the university, Oliveira, who bravely chose Fine Arts as his major, had to adapt to life in the capital of Pará and multiple cultural differences. When faced with the numerous artistic productions and the entire universe of art before his eyes, he began to devote himself to painting; at the same time, he discovered something that had gone unnoticed from him until then, a peculiar way of seeing colours. His visual perception of some shades was deficient; he was colour-blind. However, what could become a disappointment or the abandonment of a language made him stronger: looking back to his own life, he developed a desire in wanting to portray characters from the periphery, mestizos like him who, often because of their colour and physical features, have less opportunities and are left at the margins of the labour market. His “disability” then starts to be incorporated as a language, as he chooses monochromatic hues among reds, browns, blues and greens.
Colour goes beyond the sense of vision to reach the colour of skin, the characters who live in extreme situations, those who can only have their five minutes of fame on the police occurrences pages of newspapers. Suspect, guilty and victim mingle in this context. Ultimately, who is responsible for the factors that push those individuals to situations of violence? What kind of visibility is this that so often exposes the weakest on the police pages of newspapers even before a proper trial? What is the better “choice”? Staying in an inhospitable prison cell for a suspected small crime or disappear in the middle of the road, as in the recent case of Amarildo, an assistant bricklayer driven from his door towards the Police Station and who was never to be seen again, became a symbol of police abuse and violence in Brazil.
We are all Amarildos, Josés, Marias, and L.A.B.s, a minor who was trapped in a cell in 2016 in Pará, together with several men and
submitted to all manner of abuse. Tha’s right, the Amazon is not for wimps! Neither is Brazil. The abolition of rights seems to be imminent. In the countryside, we often see situations of slavery. Éder Oliveira exposes the open wound, sheds light on this marginalized, harassed inhabitant, destined for failure, on a threshold between victim and predator, hovering in a sort of symbolic “state of exception” that the State itself seems to lead. How many men and women are constantly moving from the countryside to the big city in this country? The movement has expanded in recent decades. For many, the dream of a better life ends up in frustration, poverty and segregation. It is to this citizen, a caboclo, a Brazilian like himself and like many of us, mestizos, that the artist points his radar. He transports, by means of mural painting, portraits made by the media without permission, to another site, a more humane, more dignified one. The portraits printed for immediate consumption on the bloody police pages of newspapers gain a new dimension and show the precarious conditions of those who are violated by the media, violated in their own faces, exposed in newspapers which are then discarded and end up wrapping produce sold at the open markets. By painting them, Oliveira makes us face the evils of society and forces us to confront our own fears, our prejudices, our insensitivity towards the other.
From to the police pages of newspapers, then again to the world, represented by large paintings that redefine and resize a citizen otherwise destined to oblivion. The artist amplifies, making us look at the face shown as a portrait arbitrarily done, imposed, in conditions that are far from correct. Individuals who are exposed to invisibility day after day.
The screens and wall paintings of Oliveira, the looks, sometimes annoyed, sometimes frightened and full of despair, now start to ask us questions, confronting us with our cruellest side.
Then, again, the colour bursts; among blues, ochres and reds, his characters come to life. In colour-blinded individuals, the red colour is the most difficult colour to work with and seems to be one to have the greatest impact on the observer of Oliveira’s work. Red… a protagonist and currently persecuted colour in Brazil that reveals itself to censorship and prejudice. Nonetheless, red is not the only colour – several other shades form the Amazonian people. In the series Monocromos (Monochrome), the artist reaches the minimum particle, the pixel image of the skin of a citizen, and amplifies it, collecting hues in a kind of mapping of the individual whose subjectivity is of no interest to institutions, but his skin color and physical features do matter because he does not correspond to the Western beauty standard.
Well, we are in the Amazon… Statistics show that the poor, brown, black and caboclo individuals are the most numerous group
approached in police checkpoints and raids. Integrity is not at stake here. They are potential suspects anyway because their colour and shape so determine. They are not white, they have no fine features. They are “sullen-looking”. “It is better to get them off the street”, “it is safer to lock them away”. That ́s right, the Amazon is not for wimps!… and Éder Oliveira knows it well, he is familiar with this absence of the State in relation to the other… His work exposes deep processes of subjectivation.
Unhappy portraits: subalternity, exception, anonymity; drug trafficking, extermination groups and one of the highest homicide rates… as shown by the Institute for Applied Economic Research (IPEA) with its Atlas of Violence 2016. And through it all, combined in the same chromatic mass, we have criminal and victim, side by side, all of them stemming from the appalling violence established in the root of the region’s overwhelming social fabric.
They are not politicians, nor celebrities. In Oliveira ́s mural painting, the logic of power is subverted, wore thin to its utmost limit. Suspects and policemen are together in an abyss that segregates and hurts. Oliveira starts from some conducts that
might appear in an anthropological research and then manages to be next to others, invite them to a field of reflection about the
game of representations. Soldiers and marginals are listed in this challenge of opposites. Are they really opposites? History is here, and we know what leads many young people to consider the police force as a means of survival, but bring with them all the frustrations of exclusion which are also present in the life of their supposed opponents.
The invitation that Éder Oliveira makes us is very strong and serious. A continuous process of otherness and critical reflection about our place. These are images, image-words that shake us as if saying: See! Wake up! Take a stand.
Those are dark times we are living in; colours are persecuted, and art is accused because, deep down, it leads us to think about our role as humans and must position ourselves. There is an urge to counteract the enormous wave of violence sweeping over Brazil and the world. With his colour-blind look, Oliveira does not shy away from looking at and extending the borders to give an account of the struggle that he sees in life and to make a painting that, beyond its technical and aesthetic quality, is conceptual, ethical, and exposes the banality of everyday violence introduced not only in the Amazon but throughout the country. He focuses on the marginalized citizen who faces daily stigmas. Brown, mulatto, caboclo, typical, indigenous, northern, marajoara,
camouflaged in his own daily life by racism and discrimination, pushed to margins of society by society itself.
Captured by the works of Éder Oliveira, we can be sure that, in difficult times, Art is the only option against violence.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Orlando Maneschy is a researcher, professor, artist, critic and independent curator. PhD in Communication and Semiotics from PUC-SP, Orlando is the curator of Amazoniana Collection of Art in UFPA.