Antonio Pichillá Quiacaín

Umbilical Cord

20 Jun - 3 Aug 2025

Exmouth Market

Paint, thread, wood. In Pichillá’s hands, such deceptively simple materials transform, shape-shifting into multifaceted (and literally multidimensional) structures with complex identities. Paint marks move in and out of the frame, across media, establishing boundaries or a lack thereof. Rhythmic streaks of black punctuate otherwise monochromatic surfaces while juxtapositions of primary colours facilitate unexpected optical effects, allowing playful motifs and geometries to take charge of the picture plane. Yet that plane is never just that; rather, it exists in a state of permanent flux, constantly pushing against its limits, as if its maker refused to accept its finitude. Pichillá’s “pictures” expand beyond the frame, slide into the corner of the studio, ruptured by fire, pierced by needles, extruding pieces of thread, refusing to be contained. They stretch diagonally, turn onto themselves, in-folding, and quite sculpturally so. These gestures might seem disruptive, yet they contain infinite tenderness.

Thread wraps tightly around the work, enveloping it as if in an embrace. At times, this layering feels like a game, the resulting object (The Hidden, 2006) a riddle or intricate equation a sleepless mathematician will someday attempt to solve. For now, such mysteries are left suspended, since what matters first and foremost is our direct engagement with the works, our being in their presence. Observe those minutely considered details, the multitude of tiny knots on the surface of Grandmother (2023), the gradual variation of the wooden elements and the turnings (or tuning?) of threads within the meshwork of Grandmother (2024), their eventual alignment in perfect synchrony in its pair Grandfather (2023). Contemplate the decisions that went into positioning that colour there, this line here…

Nothing is haphazard, and yet there is room for improvisation and chance. Wood, its presence seemingly incidental, becomes an anchor for all of these pieces and assemblages, securing them – for now – in space and time 1. I return to the complex simplicity of these foundational elements, whereby a peg or a plank, while utterly essential to the process of weaving, has the potential to ever become something else, an artistic device. Kukulkan (2023) provides a pertinent example, a masterful manifestation of this principle, since it visualises the metamorphosis of a warping instrument, urdidora in Spanish, pegs and all, into the sacred Maya feathered serpent whose undulating forms capture ascent or descent as a symbol for the cycle of life.

Pichillá’s work articulates such profound connections with the Maya worldview in immediately affective ways. It makes present the wisdom of the ancestors, of the abuelas and abuelos invoked in titles such as Grandmother and Grandfather. Maya peoples revere their elders, whom are considered foundational figures for their communities. They are the ones who ensure continuity, preserving culture, nourishing the young. Beyond these significant ancestral ties, Pichillá’s work remains deeply grounded within the immediate context of its making, the artist’s hometown of San Pedro La Laguna. There, in his studio overlooking Lake Atitlán, he begins work early in the morning, each day a faithful routine. Gathering materials, gathering thread, laying out designs, weaving, these are just some of the most common activities that a passerby might find him engrossed in. Various elements from that self-contained yet expansive world will eventually make their way into the work, accompanied every now and then by a detail from the everyday. I’m referring not just to natural elements such as water or wind – although they are plentiful – but also to little things such as a rock or stick, which become essential in their own way, inextricably tied to the work (notice the rock tying in all the threads in Grandmother from 2024). Ties, connections, manifested as threads, and knots, the core of this exhibition.

It would be wrong to assume that this clear positioning, this grounding, in any way fixes meaning or delimits the artist’s vision. To the contrary, it is through the language of abstraction and via the conceptual complexity employed in traditional Maya Tzʼutujil textile design, that Pichillá carved out his own path. His craft, learned from his mother, and usually transmitted via matrilineal lines, remains foundational to his approach, visualised as an Umbilical Cord (2021), and is truly the common denominator across the majority of the works seen in the exhibition. As the artist himself explains, while one might identify resonances with canonical movements in modern and contemporary art, these are by no means the only reference points possible.

The presence of abstraction in Indigenous art within Maya territories and beyond precedes colonisation, and certainly the European avant-garde. Undeniably, it is only the overbearing influence of eurocentrism that maintains such hierarchical rapport, especially now that Indigenous artists are becoming increasingly prominent in the “global” art world. For instance, one of Pichillá’s key references, the Madrid Codex, contains abstract pictorial elements in depicting the Maya calendar, which might be regarded as “Minimalist” – to quote the artist – yet have been dated to circa 900–1521 AD. From this superlatively important Maya artefact, which remains to date in Spain, the artist “extracts” abstract geometric forms, transporting them and transforming them into his own works as seen in Four Cardinal Points (2024) 2.

There are many challenges to presenting work by an Indigenous artist from the Abya Yala in a contemporary gallery in the capital of a former colonial empire. Translation – where possible – is at best imperfect, revealed by the artist’s own alternate use of titles in Spanish, Tzʼutujil and English. Art, on the other hand, might provide a more effective, and undoubtedly affective means, enabling the establishment of certain connections, bonds, ties, material and immaterial. In turn, these might bypass inherited modes of thinking, raising awareness to the persistence of other worldviews, and even to other potential worlds, within the longue durée 3.

Pichillá refers to his practice as a process of revendication, reivindicación in Spanish, of textile art. As per its dictionary definition, the term is indicative of an intention to reclaim, to claim back or recover something. In this case, the claim refers to the recognition of the primacy of ancestral knowledge and textile practices despite (or against) their historic dismissal. Indeed, the term is most commonly used in the context of law, which grants further gravity to Pichillá’s mission given the centuries of depredation that Indigenous Maya communities have been subject to ever since the imposition of colonial rule. Yet the artist’s gesture signals anything but subjection; rather, it marks defiance, endurance and survival, embedded deep within the textures of the marvellous textiles that these communities continue to create.

In the video-performance Umbilical Cord (2021), Pichillá is seen weaving in the forest using a backstrap loom tied to the trunk of a tree. His nimble hands expertly position and reposition threads, unequivocally precise. The textile is thus returned to its vegetal roots, as an offering perhaps. It becomes a line of connection to nature, life-sustaining like an umbilical cord, and equally essential as a mode of knowledge transmission, intergenerationally. It encapsulates one’s being, one’s identity, expressing a deep sense of interconnectedness across space and time.

Knotting and Unknotting (2016) might be viewed as a coda to the exhibition, tying it together as it were. Similar to Umbilical Cord (2021), the piece speaks to the notion of interconnectedness, yet now through the perspective of an inanimate object animated by the elements. The knot is emblematic, due to its potent symbolism by relation to ancestral Maya culture. Knotting and unknotting, as actions, however, might be seen as a parallel to life, with its twists and turns, joys and sorrows, accomplishments and vicissitudes. Fire burns through the candle, gradually, definitively, releasing the knot (or perhaps it is the knot that undoes itself). Air currents direct the smoke, tracing playful lines within the darkness, highlighting the candle’s complete dissolution into ash. As the smoke slowly vanishes, so does the ash, carried away by the breeze.

Exhibition text by Dr Ileana L. Selejan

Exhibition organised by Maria do Carmo M. P. de Pontes

This exhibition will run from 20th June to 3rd August August 2025, Wednesday to Sunday, 12-6 pm, extended to 8 pm on Thursdays, or by appointment

1 In 2023, Pichillá ran a textiles workshop for my students at the University of Edinburgh. When asked what types of materials we should prepare in advance, he said some wood and some threads will do.
2 The references and quotes included in this short text originated in conversations I had with the artist in May and June, 2025, leading up to the present exhibition. Nevertheless, my perspective on Pichillá’s work has been greatly enriched by our ongoing exchanges throughout the last decade.
3 The historic relationship between Britain and Guatemala is certainly uneasy, not least due to territorial disputes over today’s Belize (formerly British Honduras) and Britain’s participation in the US orchestrated coup which deposed democratically elected president Jacobo Árbenz in 1954 and ultimately plunged the country into a devastating civil war which lasted until 1996. During that prolonged period of armed conflict, it was Guatemala’s Indigenous population that suffered the greatest losses. At least 150,000 individuals were disappeared, murdered, as part of a genocidal campaign which culminated in 1982- 83 during general José Efraín Ríos Montt’s regime under the watchful gaze of the local elites and in the context of international inaction or worse, collaboration (as was Britain’s case).