Fuck Body Positivity: Ximena Ferrer Pizarro at Kunsthalle Mannheim
A glance into Latinx womanhood is as disheartening as it is humorous.
Once Upon A Time…
This is at least the third time I have gone to see one show and then fallen in love with another. So, even though I went to Mannheim for The New Objectivity centennial exhibition at the Kunsthalle, I stayed for Ximena Ferrer Pizarro (Millennial, Peruvian).
Ximena is the recipient of the Rainer Wild Art Foundation Prize 2024, an award for young artists tied to a solo show in the Kunsthalle’s STUDIO. The exhibition is confined to a tight orange cube with a high ceiling. Her monumental paintings on loose canvas look even bigger in this small space as if they’re accidentally expanding like Alice in Wonderland when she drank that growth potion.
Ximena titled her presented five-part painting series (technically, there are six, but okay) All the times I wanted to be white, weighing down my joyful and lighthearted first impression. With her flat painting style she follows Latinx girl- and womanhood. According to the exhibition booklet, she uses stories and anecdotes from other people along with her own. The experiences suddenly seem universal for a whole demographic, I have to think of the classical meme comment “I have never had an original experience in my life.”
Her female protagonists share a uniform absence of features: Only big dark eyes (sometimes they look collaged on top rather than painted), and a poky nose. Sometimes, arms appear as separate limbs growing out of nowhere. Ximena adds variation through hair color depth and texture. Occasionally, there’s acrylics or a tattoo. Otherwise, it’s hard to pin down an age except for a girl in a pink dress carrying two Barbie dolls: Straight blonde hair, fair skin, tight tops, hourglass figures. I’d say girlypop’s long brown curls are much prettier than the Barbies’ yellow pasta hair, but what do I really know about growing up with beauty ideals that look nothing like myself?
…There Was a Girl Who Hated Herself
A smaller painting outside the cube shows a girl in the middle of a makeover. With one hand, she smudges white powder on her face, dabbing her eye with the pink powder pillow. With the other, she brushes yellow hair bleach into her roots, splashing the liquid all over the place. Oh dear. I fear the result won’t be what she hopes it will be. In another makeover, green banknotes swirl around a crying girlypop cutting her thick brown braids. Do you know how many girls would KILL to have your glossy curls?! Actually, might Ximena allude to virgin hair wigs? Is this girl selling her hair to make ends meet?
One vertical painting captures a one-sided love story with El amor de mi visa (Love of my visa) (2024): A spaghetti-blonde dude wearing a blue plaid shirt (yeah we get it, he’s as white as sliced bread) embraces his girl for a smooch. They’re on Cloud Nine, there’s a huge glossy red heart right behind them, it looks perfect. But is it really? Is this guy actually in love with the contents of her soul? Was her low cleavage dress her or his idea? Is it Brat-green or green card-green? The ice on her finger looks like a good reason to pull through. So does the German passport between them. But is this really who this woman is? Or is it just another stereotype she’s confronted with when people look at their relationship?
Another girlypop is crying in the confessional, clasping her hands in prayer. The white, blue-eyed priest in front of her doesn’t acknowledge her. Idk where the fuck that humongous arm patting her head grows out of. He looks up to the blue cloud above him. Is he closer to heaven by virtue of his eye color?
And She Lived Happily Ever After?
Artists dealing with post-colonial identity often choose a visually serious, sober approach. Ximena’s style looks like it could be from a children's book. The comical visuals fit the absurdity of trying to turn into a white girl by dying one’s hair blond, for example. On the other hand, the bright coloration and cartoony shapes might serve as comic relief from reality. A reality, in which the protagonist desperately wants to be someone else. The stories Ximena tells might not be new—they’re tales as old as time. Speaking of fairytales, this show is realistic despite its cartoonish style. It’s like self-deprecating humor: you might laugh, but should you?
STUDIO: Ximena Ferrer Pizarro, through February 23, 2025, at Kunsthalle Mannheim.
Kunsthalle Mannheim
Friedrichsplatz 4
68165 Mannheim
Website
Instagram: @kunsthallema @ximenafegger
Wanna subscribe? 👉👈 And if you liked and shared this review, I’d appreciate it a lot!
See you soon!!!
Jennifer
The Gen Z Art Critic