Process takes front and center in Jimena Sarno’s Rhapsody. The multimedia exhibition, curated by guest curator Alexandra Foradas, presents a faux market of physical, sonic, and photographic wares that spans several rooms of MASS MoCA’s second floor, immersing the viewer in a dissonant image of the future. The exhibition opened on Oct. 18 and will remain open through January 2027.
During my visit to the exhibition this past weekend, I noticed several features typical of the curatorial style presented at MASS MoCA. First, the interaction between body and space drives the viewer’s experience as they move through the exhibition. Ascending a single flight of stairs, I entered Rhapsody’s main display: A long row of plywood tabletops emerge from the darkness, balanced on nearly invisible metal legs. Figurines, dishware, and jewelry adorn the tabletops. Each segment of the market-esque setup is labeled with a number that allows the viewer to reference the exhibition’s guidebook, written by Foradas.
The rightmost set of items consists of textiles woven by Sarno using natural fibers. Sarno’s weavings are followed by two looms joined together by crosswise threads, which weavers call the “weft.” The tandem presence of artwork and tools pulled me into the artist’s practice, allowing me to further understand the significance of the craftsmanship.
One fundamental question asked by Rhapsody is the place of craft — including weaving, pottery, woodworking, and more — in a contemporary museum, and, more broadly, in the fine art world.
Down the line of tables, the viewer encounters works made by other hands. “For Rhapsody, Sarno has gathered collaborators — mostly from the Global South — to contribute objects, soundscapes, and films that work toward visions for just futures,” Foradas writes in the guidebook.
Table five, titled “Vestigios del Futuro,” displays creations by Lourdes Chicco Ruiz and Candelaria Aaset. This collection includes jewelry-like multimedia sculptures made of fur, feathers, metal, driftwood, an oyster shell coated in blue nacre, and more. The materials are distinct, yet they come together to form a melodic collection of futuristic qualities. The texture of each piece is unique and visually appealing: I wanted to lift the necklaces, flip them over, and look at all sides.
In the guidebook, Foradas explained Sarno’s concept of “Third World Vision,” an environmentalist approach to creation rooted in scarcity. Under that ethos, artists create work with what is available — and beautiful. This practice informs Sarno’s work, as well as that of the other artists featured in the exhibition. Many tables feature artwork that serves multiple purposes, including Sarno’s wheel-thrown dishware huddled on later tables.
The harmony between the sculptures contrasts with the dissonant chords blaring through the darkened room. Rhapsody’s cacophonous score corresponds with the film projected on the main room’s back wall. Shot in color 16mm and Super 8 film, then digitized, the central work features close-up clips of the weaving process. The large scale of the projection amplifies every detail of the craft, from the sheen of the weaver’s fingernails to the stray hairs protruding from the yarn. The sculptures — including the tables, wares, and other pieces — cast sharp shadows on the projected film, weaving the exhibition’s media into a coherent braid.
Outside the main room, the medium of film reappears in Sarno’s 2024 piece “Las Tres Gracias.” This film, described by Foradas’ guidebook as an “operatic installation,” reexamines the titular neoclassical sculpture by Antonio Canova with a wandering gaze, oscillating between shaky closeups and careful shots of the figures’ faces and bodies.
Sarno’s “Las Tres Gracias” is backed by a libretto — an operatic narration created by Molly Pease and Valentina Magaletti — emitting from felt-covered speakers. The lyrics, consisting of myths and poems, are concurrently sung in Spanish and English as two distinct films are projected on opposite walls. “Refusing to be consigned to the dustbins of history, these words and phrases have an eerie timeliness, voicing out continuity with the past and the ongoing presentness of the struggles for liberation,” Foradas writes in the guidebook.
In addition to the tableau of objects, Rhapsody features a size-accurate model of Sarno’s workspace, titled “Textile Library,” made out of wood and filled with weavings and books. The installation has no walls, allowing the viewer to experience the internality and externality of Sarno’s methods.
The exhibition is notably accessible, with rocking chairs placed among the artwork to allow weary viewers to rest while engaging with the pieces. There is also no glass around the artwork, nor anything separating viewer and artwork. During my visit, everyone from a pair of young children to an elderly couple meandered through, listening intently to Rhapsody.
