The Exmouth Academy’s much-anticipated exhibition, “Brushstrokes of Brazil: Liminal Vibrancy in the Tropics”, promises a deep dive into the nation’s contemporary painting scene. What it delivers, however, is a kaleidoscopic fever dream of artistic ambition, chaotic juxtapositions, and more references to post-colonial discourse than even the most ardent political junkie could digest.
I arrived expecting an immersive exploration of the Brazilian psyche via paint. What I encountered was an exhibition that seemed determined to answer the question: “What if we put samba, existential dread, and Rousseau’s jungle fantasies into a blender and forgot to put the lid on?”
The Works
At the heart of the show is a tension between Brazil’s lush, visceral aesthetic heritage and its artists’ relentless pursuit of conceptual complexity. Take, for instance, “O Sol Nunca Me Ama” (The Sun Never Loves Me) by João Cordeiro. This monumental canvas features a hyper-realistic avocado sliced open to reveal a yawning void, its edges inexplicably smeared with gold leaf. A metaphor for globalization? A critique of Brazil’s agricultural dependence? Or just an homage to brunch culture gone wrong? The accompanying wall text—a 650-word manifesto—was as opaque as the pitless avocado itself.
Further along, Larissa Tavares’s “Palimpsesto das Favelas” (Palimpsest of the Favelas) arrests the eye with its maddening refusal to cohere. Tavares layers gauzy washes of color with bursts of angry, abstract scribbles, over which she has collaged what appear to be receipts for pão de queijo. “It’s an interrogation of neoliberal transactionalism,” I overheard one visitor murmur, stroking their chin. But to me, it felt like someone spilled their lunch money on a Jackson Pollock.
And then there’s “Ode ao Mosquito” (Ode to the Mosquito) by Beatriz de Lima, an installation masquerading as a painting. The artist has smeared actual mosquito blood across a stark white canvas while a recording of buzzing drones from the ceiling speakers. It’s a visceral and deeply irritating piece, which I suspect is exactly the point. “The mosquitoes are both the colonizers and the colonized,” one particularly verbose guide explained. “They are the oppressors, yet also victims of the climate crisis. It’s genius.”
The Themes
The show’s overarching curatorial narrative—if one can find it in the chaos—is an attempt to distill Brazil’s artistic identity into something both contemporary and deeply rooted in tradition. This is, of course, an impossible task, and the exhibition doesn’t so much tackle the challenge as gleefully revel in its impossibility.
You’ll find nods to Brazil’s colonial past in nearly every piece, often juxtaposed with jarringly modern elements. One painting featured a meticulously rendered 18th-century sugar mill but dotted with QR codes. When scanned, they directed me to a Spotify playlist featuring only Bossa Nova remixes of the Macarena. Bold? Yes. Meaningful? Perhaps. Overwhelming? Absolutely.
There’s also a distinct sense of ecological urgency running through the works, with many artists addressing deforestation, biodiversity loss, and the commodification of the Amazon. But rather than hammering the viewer with doom, the exhibition opts for a more playful (if baffling) approach. One standout was “Desmatamento #4”, in which artist Raul Pessoa used actual tree sap mixed with acrylics to paint what appeared to be a melancholy toucan smoking a cigarette.
The Experience
The layout of the show is as confounding as the art itself. The gallery walls are painted a deep, pulsating pink—presumably meant to evoke the Brazilian sunset but more reminiscent of a nightclub. Meanwhile, the lighting is erratic, shifting between dim, jungle-like greens and harsh fluorescent whites. At one point, I accidentally walked into what I thought was another room of paintings but turned out to be a live capoeira demonstration. Whether this was intentional or simply an unfortunate scheduling overlap remains unclear.
By the time I reached the gift shop (featuring eco-friendly caipirinha kits and tote bags with the phrase “Art is the Amazon of the Soul”), I felt both intellectually exhilarated and vaguely unmoored.
The Verdict
“Brushstrokes of Brazil” is a triumph of contradictions. It’s a show where beauty and bewilderment collide, where the line between profundity and pretension is gloriously blurred. The paintings might not all resonate, and some might outright baffle, but the exhibition achieves something rare: it forces you to think. Or at least to pretend you’re thinking while desperately googling “symbolism of bananas in post-modern Brazilian art.”
Go see it. Bring an open mind, a willingness to be confused, and, ideally, bug spray.
