Gabrielle Graessle: Coo Coo Ca Choo
The Graduate was released in 1967, where a young Dustin Hoffman played a student seduced by his girl鈥檚 mother. Simon and Garfunkel, the most famous singer-songwriters of their time, wrote the song 鈥淢rs. Robinson鈥 for the occasion, where Coo Coo Ca Choo appears in its chorus. Words that give the exhibition its title and are nothing more than an expression closely associated with the hippie explosion of that time. It can mean many things, but essentially equates to something like 鈥渆verything is ok鈥 or 鈥渆verything is fine鈥. A primary onomatopoeia that reminds us of that da-da that the later called Dadaists adopted to name their beautiful anarchy; now Coo Coo Ca Choo, that strange expression with an open meaning, is the presentation that this Swiss artist based in southern Spain has chosen to name her first major individual exhibition in Andalusia. A title that undoubtedly gives us the clues to understand these works 鈥 ambiguous, free words, not ascribed to any specific language but charged with an open meaning, as is the work presented here. And it is why, possibly, one has to go back into language before language, like the babbling of children and, in general, with the pure sounds that communicate without the need for polished words and syntactic structures that make up our languages.
What Gabrielle Graessle鈥檚 work proposes is a return to that pure and artifice-free intuition found in the innocence that resided in us before being what we have become. As Joan Miro虂 did throughout his life, it is a matter of constantly simplifying until he seeks the truth found in the child who painted freely, interpreting the closest things, without an order, the one who translated the primary feelings without the need of theories or discourses; it is about the search for a purity that the years force you to lose if anyone wants to develop through the guidelines of this or any other civilised world.
The Graduate was released in 1967, where a young Dustin Hoffman played a student seduced by his girl鈥檚 mother. Simon and Garfunkel, the most famous singer-songwriters of their time, wrote the song 鈥淢rs. Robinson鈥 for the occasion, where Coo Coo Ca Choo appears in its chorus. Words that give the exhibition its title and are nothing more than an expression closely associated with the hippie explosion of that time. It can mean many things, but essentially equates to something like 鈥渆verything is ok鈥 or 鈥渆verything is fine鈥. A primary onomatopoeia that reminds us of that da-da that the later called Dadaists adopted to name their beautiful anarchy; now Coo Coo Ca Choo, that strange expression with an open meaning, is the presentation that this Swiss artist based in southern Spain has chosen to name her first major individual exhibition in Andalusia. A title that undoubtedly gives us the clues to understand these works 鈥 ambiguous, free words, not ascribed to any specific language but charged with an open meaning, as is the work presented here. And it is why, possibly, one has to go back into language before language, like the babbling of children and, in general, with the pure sounds that communicate without the need for polished words and syntactic structures that make up our languages.
What Gabrielle Graessle鈥檚 work proposes is a return to that pure and artifice-free intuition found in the innocence that resided in us before being what we have become. As Joan Miro虂 did throughout his life, it is a matter of constantly simplifying until he seeks the truth found in the child who painted freely, interpreting the closest things, without an order, the one who translated the primary feelings without the need of theories or discourses; it is about the search for a purity that the years force you to lose if anyone wants to develop through the guidelines of this or any other civilised world.