Visual Overload

By Leena Prasad

 

 

 

 

Things happen, things that might shift your focus for a few seconds, a few minutes, or more. I had one of those moments when I first passed by Radio Habana Social Club.  The place wasn’t even open for business at the time.  It was the outside front wall that riveted my attention.

 

There were so many things for my eyes to feast on that I didn’t know where to start.  Is that a tiny skeleton hanging in the window?  Oh, there’s a statue of Snow White, next to a bearded man in denim overalls, and there’s a dwarf, and a statue of Virgin Mary… How is it possible that nobody has stolen these? That’s when I noticed the nail through Snow White’s skirt and through each foot of the man in overalls, and between Mary’s feet… below the sculptures, there was large Still Life painting of fruits and a Mayan statue, also nailed to the walls.  To the right of the painting, an assortment of wooden objects (a cat, a fish, a dinosaur, a cigar) were nailed to a small shelf….then a STOP sign. An actual stop sign, stolen and customized with a sketch of the Statue of Liberty, was on the shelf.

 

Next, my eyes moved to the single crutch with an ice-skating shoe attached to the bottom. I wondered if there was a story there - was the skate responsible for the crutch?  An abstract painting hung to the right of the crutch where the wall of the storefront ended.  My eyes traveled back towards the window and passed over a twelve inch wooden fork and knife crossed over each other with a broken pink skull in the V between them. On the shelf below, a plastic Donald Duck played with a car while Mickey Mouse looked on.

 

At first glance, the words kitsch sprang to mind. The helter-skelter and overcrowded arrangements of objects did not follow the principles of traditional gallery style displays. But, as I kept gazing, I could no longer dismiss the chaotic collection of unusual objects because they were starting to appeal to my appreciation of surrealistic and dada art.  Would any of these objects survive by itself if put up on a wall in a gallery? I’ve seen less compelling collages celebrated as art in prestigious institutes like the SFMoMA, many of which haven’t compelled my senses in the same manner as this collection.  Perhaps the entire place is an object d’art, I mused to myself.

 

What is this place anyway?  As if in response, my eyes located the black and white photograph of Salvador Dali on the door with a small handwritten stenciled sign that simply said “Radio Habana Social Club.”  Underneath the sign, there was “Valencia 1109” the address of the place on a piece of paper, followed by the hours of operation also written on a piece of paper. I loitered for a few more minutes to take in some of the other objects. But I was already late in meeting my friend and had to move on… making a mental note to come back here, I memorized that it was on Valencia near 22^nd Street.

 

A few weeks later, I went back with friends.  The place was small, intimate. There was barely room enough for ten people to be seated for dinner. Many people hovered near the bar. 

 

The inside walls were an instant visual overload on my senses.  I didn’t know where to start looking.  As my friends tried to decide between dinner, tapas and drinks, I let me eye roam around randomly.  The collage of Van Gogh instantly caught my attention: it featured a picture of Van Gogh with a blood soaked white gauze bandage where his ear should have been, a plastic ear lying in the corner and a paintbrush.  Another collage contained a framed picture of Kafka and a plastic cockroach.  Below Kafka, a sketch contained a Mona Lisa in sunglasses; she was surrounded by sketches of other famous female portraits (girl in a pearl earring, Gauguin’s women, and many more…). 

 

The indoor paintings and artwork further supported my earlier theory that surrealism and its relative dada had been the source of inspiration behind the formation of this unusual Mission icon.

 

On the opposite wall, a giant pink wig loomed large on the mannequin head of a woman in sunglasses, hot pink lips, and pearl necklaces.  Her head was arranged to pop out of the wall at a thirty degree angle.  Above the bar, the sculpture of a woman in black leather and Mohawk competed for attention with a plastic chicken hanging from the ceiling.  A spider web with the face of a woman in the center hung on the front wall of the restaurant... everywhere I looked or pointed my camera, there was a visual treat.

 

I could barely turn my eyes away to look at the menu.  I let me friends order for me.  I don’t remember what the food tasted like. I think it was good; a vegetarian friend was able to order an entire vegetarian platter and everything was priced under $10.  Someone ordered plates of samosas and salad.  I think I had tamale but I was too busy gawking at the walls to remember. 

 

The menu boasts that this is the “Best Place for Sangria, Revolutionary Talk & Spontaneous Singing” but I think I’ll probably go back there again to stimulate my appetite for dada and surrealist extravagance.

 

 

 

 

For comments/complaints/kudos/article ideas/etc., please write to Leena Prasad at art@WeAreNotAmused.com.  Please let me know in your letter if it’d be okay to publish it as part of this column.