According to certain theologians (burned as “heretics” along with their followers), there would not be one god but two. The one adored by the pleading flock, who expects miracles from him and fears punishment from him, would be a crazy monster who in his narcissistic supply voracity (or to combat his eternal boredom) created imperfect worlds and legions of minions. He is known as the Demiurge. Another of his names is Yaldabaoth. Outside of this chaos sown by the mad god, the true divinity would exist, unknowable and real. The usurper pretends to be him and in his name demands sacrifices, austerities and prayers. And even if it were not so (perhaps none of this exists and the ecclesiastical structure built on the Roman Empire is built on a delusion), so much demand is suspicious.
The idea of religion as an excuse to subject humanity to lives of slavery and meekness is the Luciferian spark (Luciferian in the good sense: liberating light, morning star) that ignites the rebellious fire that animates hard rock and rock. black metal. It also shines, with an intense but secret brilliance, in the drawings that O’Kif exhibits until December 29 in the central hall (ground floor) of the Roberto Fontanarrosa Cultural Center (San Martín 1080, Rosario).
Born Alejandro O’Keefe in this city in 1959, O’Kif puts all his virtuosity and his years of work into play in the two series that he brings together under the common title of The administration of faith. To a gallery of satirical fictitious portraits of “ministers” (soft graphite pencil on paper for sketch) are added beautiful and tremendous paintings in acrylic, impregnating for bricks and anilines on fabrics, and prints fine art intervened. The human figure is the axis, sometimes accompanied by animals of serious symbolism, such as rats. Except for a lonely and sad “Eve”, they are male figures of mature men, mostly imbued with the attributes of power, and with corruption outlined on their faces.
In others, the subjugated men are seen in their struggle to liberate themselves: one emerges from a workers’ demonstration and receives a Christic spear in the side; another is a brooding loner who wants to get out of his chrysalis. The flock, in the lower plane of an effective graphic polyptych, is represented by the feet of men and women, equipped with cheap, worn shoes. A Renaissance knowledge of anatomy, together with the expressionist talent to capture a pathos precise through its distortions, it expresses meaning in the representation of the body and complements it with symbols, some eloquent (traces of blood) and others more hermetic and concealed in ornament. The all-seeing eye, from the center of the bordered cross, is repeated in the liturgical vestments of some of the characters as an emblem of the omnipresent eye of the Demiurge, from which nothing escapes (the “heretics” mentioned above said that the vision of the eye of the Demiurge, looking multiplied from his insane creation).
The visual language is allusions, which must stop to decipher. It is highly recommended to read the titles. One can read between the lines, in one of the works, the complicity of the clergy with torture. In the series of faces entitled “De-bows,” the bow print functions as a parody or pastiche of a gleefully vacuous art style sanctioned by the elite of dour critics. It is the only instance of pure, vibrant color. For the rest, the dark grays, sepias, sanguines and earths harmonize with the somber tone of suspicion, which borders on the denunciation.
“Are you ready to challenge your beliefs?”, is asked in the text that accompanies the sample. The questions, and the looks that question from those opaque faces of inquisitors, configure an invitation to doubt and the exercise of critical thinking. It is in the lineage of Goya and the modern satirists that O’Kif settles, with a very high artistic quality at the service of a powerfully revulsive ideological content.
O’Kif received the White Raven and Fantasy awards; he developed comics all over the world.