Design collective Torolab traffics in art at the U.S.--Mexico border.

By Madelynn Amalfitano
The Metropolis Observed
October 2001

Torolab's gallery/footbridge would use art to personalize the border-crossing experience.
Now is a pivotal time in Tijuana's history. As one of the fastest-developing cities in Latin America, the Mexican border town is evolving into a place of possibility rather than just poverty and protest. "For us, the time when our friends used to throw things over the border and yell 'Fuck Bush' ended long ago," Raul Cardenas Osuna says. "It got you a high five when we bailed you out of jail--and that's it. Now we want to change what we have into something better." An architect, teacher, and overall idealist, Cardenas is the founder and creative catalyst behind the design collective Torolab, a workshop of architects, artists, designers, and musicians looking to provoke change through observation.

Launching an art collective in Tijuana is an act of bravado. Funding for the arts is nearly nonexistent, and the lack of galleries translates into little opportunity for artists who make the city their home. The members of Torolab, however, have trusted in their vision--an act of faith that has paid off. Their work recently appeared at the Museum of Contemporary Art, San Diego, and last year the collective received a grant from the prestigious U.S.--Mexico Fund for Culture for the Vertex Project, a multimedia-enhanced border-crossing footbridge.

Offsite:
A vibrant and colorful exploration of Torolab's bridge is just a click away at their Web site, www.torolab.com; or visit the Museum of Contemporary Art, San Diego, online at www.mcasandiego.org.
Half in Tijuana, half in San Diego, the steel-and-fiberglass structure would function as both a point of entry and a gallery. The proposed location for the Vertex Project is the northwesternmost corner of Latin America, where Tijuana's beach meets California's Border Field Park. "It's an intersection where things converge," Cardenas says, "where the sea meets the land, where one language meets another." It's also a place synonymous with Tijuana's contentious relationship to San Diego, a city it has more contact with--socially, culturally, and economically--than it does with Mexico City. From the Mexican side of the border, the sprawling lawn of Border Field Park is a surreal backdrop for the corrugated-metal barrier fence, which is painted with the names of those who have died trying to cross into the United States.

The main purpose of the Vertex Project, according to Cardenas, is "to generate understanding and establish communications between two countries through art." He is concerned that the austerity of the border is causing us to lose sight of the relationship between individuals and their environment. In direct contrast to the impersonal San Diego--Tijuana border checkpoint, which funnels a constant stream of nameless faces at an average rate of 110,000 daily, this interactive architectural installation would offer a more intimate exchange by removing the imposed anonymity. Here visitors could submit their own artwork--photographs, drawings, poetry--to an on-site computer. The images would then be projected onto the bridge's two exterior billboards (similar to the JumboTrons in sports arenas), immediately transforming the facade. "It personalizes an impersonal experience," explains Toby Kamps, curator of the MCA exhibit. "People are crossing through here. Who are they? What do they do? How did they get here? You're able to tell your story, animate the bridge, and create transient graffiti to personalize the experience."

This coming December Torolab will publish a catalog for the Vertex Project, including contributions from photographer Laureana Toledo and video artist Jonathan Hernandez. In the meantime Cardenas is playing the role of Sisyphus, trying to move the bureaucratic powers that be for permission to build. Mexican officials originally supported the idea, but now--with a new president and party in power--Cardenas must start over. And he will still need to gain the U.S. stamp of approval.

Cardenas hopes construction will begin in 2002. But should the project fall victim to political quagmire, he sees the design traveling in an exhibition as a "martyr" for what might have been. Tijuana, after all, is still a place of idiosyncrasies. "Here you have to be flexible," Cardenas says. "If it doesn't happen, it will still serve a purpose. It will show what we can accomplish, and at least that's a start."


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