Teresita Fernández

Starfield (2009)

In the 1960s, a movement called Minimalism stripped art down to the basics: simple shapes, standard materials, and viewers, who were often puzzled by its stubborn silence. Since then, Minimalism has matured, becoming more refined, less abrasive, more gracious. Teresita Fernández takes Minimalism to elegant heights, creating accessible installations that fill the seemingly empty space between things with a sensual charge that transforms otherwise incidental details into evocations of infinity.

In terms of composition and materials, Fernández’s Starfield (2009) could not be simpler: bright dots of light cluster in the center of a glossy black wall. Think disco ball flattened by a steamroller. Then imagine the serene beauty of a crystal-clear night sky in the middle of nowhere, where so many stars twinkle that one cannot help but be awed by the vastness of the cosmos and our tiny place in it. Together, the two images suggest the magic Fernández works in her installation, which is made of nothing but hundreds of mirrored glass cubes (about the size of ice cubes) and sheets of black laminate that cover the wall. The most important element, however, is the space between Starfield and the viewer — and what happens in it.

In every tiny mirror, one sees a miniature reflection. Stepping back, a ghostly silhouette appears in the dark laminate. But when one keeps moving, like a star in the sky, Fernández’s art comes alive, twinkling, shimmering, and reflecting all the colors of the spectrum. Like a rainbow, you cannot touch it or keep it or forget seeing it.