A symbiotic equivalence binds Castillo’s materials, process and subject. She became interested in using sand on a visit to Cuba after living in Holland. An enduring metaphor for the passage of time, sand compromises countless, crushed particles that together act like water. This fluidity synchs with Holland being claimed from the sea and her becoming an immigrant without a permanent residence. These volatile conditions, along with her passion for architecture and the social impact of urban and natural forms, let to her own vision of ebb and flow. Outside her studio, the artist painstakingly builds her fragile models, shooting them from above at a moment of transition. In the oversized prints, the illusion triggers a kinesthetic reaction. Rugged landmasses and smooth highways create a palpable contrast. Meanwhile, the rush of a straight stretch, the up and down loop of an interchange, or the meander around corners fuels the unseen driver on these landscapes of the soul.

In his installation, I Left My Heart in Machu Picchu, Ruiz examines the notion of discovery and conquest. Using Machu Picchu as his primary source, he starts by humoring the common practice of lumping his native Peru and site in synonymy. Voted one of the Seven Wonders of the World, it is now overrun with well-intentioned thrill and spiritual seekers. But the former winter retreat of the Inca ruler Pachacuti Yupanqui continues to elude: full knowledge of its function remains incomplete as does its mortar-less stonework, whose shapes mimic surrounding mountains and honor the deities whom many believe inhabit them. Ruiz returned to Machu Picchu in fall 2007 to conduct research in the role of tourist/anthropologist. With humor and gravity, the ensuing installation updates the cultural record in a layered procession of posters, sculptures, and photographs.

The posters take on the explorer figure by conflating Hollywood’s dashing advernturer Indiana Jones with two contasting views. One features the famous archeologist Hiram Bingham III. Led to the site in 1911, he later sent to Yale University thousands of artifacts whose patrimony is now contested. The other showcases your average tourist in similar garb. At a distance, the sculptures resemble improvisations from common consumer materials and found objects in dialogue with a broad spectrum of post World War II sculptural practice, from minimalist abstraction to anything-goes assemblage. Up close, they turn out to be to-scale interpretations of key structures, such as the Temple of the Condor.

Tucked into the back corner, six photographs, slightly larger than snapshots, show vacationers at the complex roaming the terraced fields and intricate architectural formations, including those that inspired the sculptures.

Even as these images complete the temporal loop, they offer the final clue to the viewer who takes their place. In an “American-made” transfiguration, the ancient becomes contemporary; the ancient becomes contemporary; the ceremonial, casual; the enigmatic, accessible; the fictitious, material.

From fragments of a life and an infrastructure to an entire civilization, Via Simbolica makes the case that each can be an effective foundation for a symbol and for a larger exploration of the effects of time and memory. Fully aware of their shifting nature, the artists create conceptually driven works from a global perspective, whose impact is felt first, then contemplated. Upon release, they take on an existence of their own, destined to outlive their subjects as future relics. A fusion of reality and imagination, their iconography leads to an expansive quest for knowledge, for something that might guide or illuminates us to a truth of our own making. In an age rife with irony and hubris, these symbols encourage out need to question and restore our will to believe.     

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