Primal Clay ëDream of Earthí Showcases Work of Six Mexican Sculptors by Gary Tischler The more things appear modern, the more primal the effect. That doesnít succeed all of the time, but it does appear to work in a remarkably affecting and powerful exhibition of contemporary Mexican sculpture. In "The Dream of Earth: 21st Century Tendencies in Mexican Sculpture" at the Mexican Cultural Institute, modernistic tendencies are wrestled to a standstill by ancient feelings, techniques and materials. Six Mexican sculptorsómen and women born in the 1950s and 1960s who work entirely with clayóare showcased with 30 distinctive pieces that somehow move the heart and make you think of dreams you were amazed to dream. Each sculptor represents the theme of the exhibitionóthat is, their work is recognizably regional, ethnic and national, but also universal and individualistic in a way that escapes not only ideas of ethnicity and nationality, but also ideas about whatís modern and what the roots of modernity in art really are. In short, many of the works look and feel like curses conjured long ago. The figures seem elemental; the architecture is both urban and modern, yet as old as a mesa or a city-state guarded by swords. For anyone who thinks that contemporary abstraction in art is soulless and unaffecting, especially in sculpture, theses six artists are practically naked and wailing in their work. The connection between the sculptors is a little more difficult to find, but itís there. Paloma Torres, who curated the exhibition, has sculptures that seem to be layers of lifeófragile structures that form a kind of architecture. Her "Landscape," for instance, with its thin iron pins and Indian-like shapes, seems like a place where an urban and windswept land battled and fused with another one of her works, "Fragmented Landscapes." Now consider Miriam Medrez, whose figure "The Frog" seems puzzling and dangerous in a way that characterizes many of the figures in the exhibition. In Medrezís "Without Title," a tall, long-legged, almost cowering figure is covered in a form of clothing made of stove-pipe material. The head is unnaturally small, the stance contradictory, and the arms are crossed over in protection, giving the appearance that the head seems to be shrinking while the body seems to be growing. Similarly, "The Frog" looks as if it is waiting for something to happen, full of expectation, anger and primed for action. This is the energy that guides these works. Suffering and torture are what seem to guide the figures of Javier MarÌn, whose anguished sculpture, scraped in gray and hanging from hooks, almost resembles a noise screaming out in pain and truth. The spaces between the figures look like a no manís land where pain and pleasure have battled before. But itís also a place in which viewers can picture themselves, wondering what might have happened or what will happen. Thatís what so expressive about these works. Thereís an air of expectancy about them and an atmosphere of experienceóold stories from long ago that hover over these galleries. Gerardo Azc?nagaís figures, for instance, resemble the travails of Sisyphus, piled on top of one another to make something new: a worm-like figure, an offering to a god, a record of once having existed. AgustÌn Arteaga, director of the Museo Ponce in Puerto Rico, called clay "the most humble of materials," to which primitive cultures turned almost naturally to express themselves, refining the process with fire to produce ceramics. These six artists have returned to "the dream of earth," each in their own dream, of course. In the elegant confines of the Mexican Cultural Institute, itís easy to imagine their works at night, in silence, with some light, gaining their voices and power. "The Dream of Earth: 21st Century Tendencies in Mexican Sculpture" runs through Nov. 11 at the Mexican Cultural Institute, 2829 16th St., NW. For more information, please call (202) 728-1628. Gary Tischler is a contributing writer for The Washington Diplomat.