Bony Ramirez

Bony Ramirez (b. 1996) is an artist based in Jersey City. His work has been exhibited at the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth, Bradley Ertaskiran, the Newark Museum of Art, François Ghebaly, BANK/ MABSOCIETY, and Jeffrey Deitch.

Instagram | Website

memory/

I was born and raised in the Dominican Republic then moved to the US when I was 13. In the Dominican Republic, my family went to church almost every day. It was there, surrounded by paintings and sculptures of Biblical stories and saints, that I was first introduced to art. I started questioning what it took to make grand murals and stained glass and if I could also create something like them. Some of my earliest drawings as a child were recreations of the Biblical stories I learned or saw in my church. In a way, I was creating my own illustrated Bible.

Religion has shaped a lot of my practice, but it was tricky navigating queerness while steeped in the church. As an adult, I have a deep appreciation for the Church and the impact it had, and still has, on my art, but I’m drawn more to its visual culture rather than its religious practice. The Church fostered my interest in history and how texts are translated into images.

line/

I wasn’t able to afford art school, so I created my own art education, teaching myself what I believed students were taught in school. I attended galleries and art fairs to immerse myself in the art world and find a way to break in. I visited museums, studying Renaissance artists, Italian Mannerists, and artists like Pablo Picasso and Francis Bacon. Proportion was always difficult for me, so I liked the way Picasso and Bacon distorted the human figure. When I was developing my style, I similarly wanted to bend and play with human anatomy.

After graduating high school, I worked in construction. I didn’t have access to many art materials, so I would use leftover plywood from the construction site to build wood panels. There is a build-what-you-can aesthetic in the Dominican Republic, and concrete, cinder blocks, and wood form the foundation for most of the architecture. I think it’s important to integrate that aesthetic into my work, and I’ve made works that mimic construction and Dominican architecture. Wood is solid and durable, making it the perfect basis for my work.

After work and on the weekends, I would draw and paint on the wood panels in colored pencil and acrylic, the two materials I had knowledge about and access to. For years, I perfected my technique using these materials. From there, I continued exploring and testing the limits of what a painting could be. My construction background gave me the technical skills to incorporate the sculptural aspects into my paintings, so I began sawing into the panels to attach three-dimensional objects.

color/

The Caribbean has an incredibly rich history and culture. The art industry rarely highlights Caribbean artists, so I’ve taken on the responsibility of teaching my audience about my culture and people. I use many motifs that are unique to the Caribbean. I felt it was important for me to incorporate objects in my work, so I began experimenting with attaching seashells, coconuts, machetes, and swords to my work. These objects carry a particular materiality and history; for example, while the machetes are a tool of trade, the swords point toward the history of Spanish colonialism and occupation. In many ways, I’m also pushing against misinterpretations of Caribbean imagery or culture, so I represent Dominican markets, celebrations, and mythologies to familiarize the audience with my culture.

I use vibrant and pastel colors to evoke the experience of living on the island. Blues and teals are central to many of my paintings because they are reminiscent of the ocean. The pastel colors and patterns I use refer to Dominican houses, which are often painted pastel pink, yellow, and baby blue. I also add plants and greenery in my work to mimic the lush landscapes of the Caribbean.

My figures draw on magical realism, surrealism, and Dominican mythologies. None of them are based on real people but are formed from a mental collage of my community. I’m reinterpreting them into imaginary figures, bending and twisting their anatomy, or experimenting with animal-human hybrids. I always ask myself, “How can I make the Caribbean environment a part of human anatomy?” I noticed how clam shells resemble ears and merged the two. The inside of clam shells display pearlescent streaks of colors and I paint these colors into the ears of my figures. It’s a subtle way of infusing the island into the people and making the Caribbean ever-present in my work.