Mariane Ibrahim is in Mexico City. Her new gallery, at Río Pánuco 36, welcomes us into a space with a romantic Porfiriato façade, located in the Cuauhtemoc neighborhood of the Mexican capital. The large property—her third gallery—combines refined French moldings, eclecticism, and a touch of tropical greenery. Ibrahim’s team is working against the clock on the final details of Clotilde Jiménez’s installation La Memoria del Agua, which combines large-scale collages, some ceramics, and painting.
Ibrahim came to Mexico City to do what she does best: represent contemporary art from Africa and the African diaspora within the white spaces of the curatorial world.
Vogue: What is your hope with this move to Mexico?
Mariane Ibrahim: I hope to find myself. In [art] we are a bit distanced. We tend to get out of our mission, driven by the market, so the reencounter with these “first loves” is the real reason why we do this work. Being in Mexico allows me to feel more complete and more focused on the future. I think Mexico City has an energy of the future—in music, in art, with architecture, design, and fashion. It is a vital place in the world we are in, and it also has a focus on craftsmanship. Our artists are aware of this.
And how does this work with the artists you represent?
We have a great point in common, and that is that we are from the same generation. This represents a strength and, at the same time, a challenge. We are together and we move forward together, sometimes without knowing where we are going. With artists there is a real collaboration, but above all, a kind of confidentiality in our interactions, because I understand what they have lived through, the obstacles they may face in terms of art or society; that is why I have always fought for and with them. I don’t usually speak of “them,” but rather “us.” It is a collective mission to emancipate and change mentalities that society may have about artists of African origin. Artists anchored between the old world and the new; between cultures and traditional and contemporary practices. It’s the same with the Japanese artists in the gallery—they have this ability to navigate between two waters. That’s what I’m looking for.
And how do you determine what has a message in the current contemporary art world?
I think art has to revolutionize and sometimes disturb, but art is also an exercise in contemplation—it should allow an escape, create a projection, and seek an aspiration about beauty. The great classical artists succeeded in sublimating reality. Art that is very reactionary or uncomfortable is not incompatible with the other type. Eventually, it can revolutionize the customs of society while inviting contemplation and beauty. For me, beauty is revolutionary. To offer a different aesthetic point of view on Western perception, created by artists of African origin, is revolutionary. They have always been caricatured or labeled in a certain way, so I seek to take into account their perception and to make clear a rejection of this imposed canon of beauty, and the need to obtain that validation.
Did you always imagine this place, this garden in which we are talking today?
As was the case in Paris, the gallery at Pánuco 36 went through a period of transition. We took up the spirit of the former owner, because before, an artist lived here and had his studio; then it was a shared office space. Ultimately, we took back that artistic character. We have not changed anything, we have respected all the architectural elements of this historic space with that Haussmannian inspiration that marked such a crucial period of life in Mexico City, although it also has a bit of Frank Lloyd Wright. I like numerology; I was struck by the fact that this number represents the double of the Paris gallery [located at 18 Avenue Matignon], plus all that magic that only exists in Mexico.
Why think about Mexico City in 2023?
It’s a city where I feel alive, where I dream and get lost. Here I marvel at the people, walking through a land with so much history and with an energy that I don’t get to see in other places. A land with so many defeats and victories. Here, there is an incredible will to live connected to the concept of death. Death is something very present in the culture—think of the flag, the serpent and the eagle, the native peoples... All this creates a very spicy melting pot, and both ancient and contemporary artists are very sensitive to all these references and to the artistic value of Mexico. This city gives artists a total freedom. Besides, there is something very personal: Being here I remember a lot of my childhood—the smells, what I see, the people and their hospitality, the importance of the family.
Clotilde Jiménez’s work has a bit of a fusion of all of that. How did you come to this exhibition?
This is his first exhibition in Mexico, in the framework of Zona Maco, and I just think that she had a small project that had to happen and it had to be seen here. Clotilde has already been installed [in Mexico City] for a few years, so I called him and told him that he would do the inaugural exhibition of this space. We still didn’t have the place or the date when it would happen... Everything has happened very fast and our architect, Arturo, quickly understood our idea and needs, transforming this space into something we are all very proud of.
What kind of art are you most interested in now?
Primitive art, pre-Hispanic, I hope to soon spend all my weekends at the Museum of Anthropology; I am also very interested in what is happening in Central and South America, but I see everything.... Also the art in Southeast Asia. The truth is that now, I’m interested in everything that appears in front of me.
What is your next goal?
My goal is to continue to encourage and develop our artists to collaborate with institutions and leave an important legacy. I want to make it clear that we are not an ephemeral project, we are not going to disappear. We will do whatever it takes to anchor our artists within the movement, because this belongs to them. We’ve had the privilege of working at the Smithsonian American Art Museum with Ayana V. Jackson [on a 2023 exhibition], and, on the other hand, with Amoako Boafo at the Seattle Art Museum last year... So I want to continue to work for the next generation of artists and be able to offer them all the necessary tools.
Will there be an opportunity to work with Afro-Mexican artists?
You left the best question for last... I’m here, interested in Mexico, because there is a story I want to reveal that hasn’t been told at all, or not presented in the right way. There is a great veil of ignorance over what happened on this side of the world, and the place that Veracruz occupied in the emancipation of Black people in Mexico. I am very interested in researching the processes of mestizaje, and I seek to connect with Afro-Mexicans. It’s something I do all the time—I feel that they are kind of cousins with whom it is necessary to reconnect. It is necessary to excavate, search, and do this almost anthropological work. It will be a joy to connect with this community.
