In his 1977 Christmas Lectures at London’s Royal Institution, Carl Sagan described the possibility of communication with extraterrestrials, declaring, “One thing you’d have to do first is to be sure you can understand the message.” Dino Felipe, an iconic, prolific Miami musician and artist who, over the past twenty years, has produced hundreds of artworks and recorded more than one hundred albums—nearly all of which he made in his bedroom—has described his output as the product of channeling: That is, he is the recipient of special transmissions from various corners of the dream world and sundry celestial beings.
The title of Felipe’s exhibition here, “Wigs on Trees,” is borrowed from a photograph in the show featuring the titular hairpieces dangling from assorted floras in Atlanta. This mesmerizing, long overdue retrospective is a voyage through the subconscious made utterly and gloriously conscious. A standout acrylic painting, Boy in a Garden, 2022, illustrates the pleasures of the natural landscape, amplified by the imagination: The subject, rendered as a beatifically elephantine figure, is surrounded by swirling butterflies, curlicues, and vines. Sound Object, 2015, is a handmade instrument comprising, among other items, a wind chime, staples, and a plaster spreader, which he used for the making of his 2015 album Symphonica Sufrida. Sketches from dream journals reveal the artist’s oneiric experiences as a sentient equation, a living hyperlink, and an ant-size creature. (“We are all loved—so we must love ourselves,” he writes in an interpretive note.)
Felipe leaves no surface untouched. Meta Language, 2022, a hypnotic acrylic-and-ink drawing of sigils in green, red, and black, archives a dream language; the symbols reappear along the gallery’s doorways and baseboards and function as a form of spiritual protection. In addition to the mostly two-dimensional works, Felipe and his mother have painted the containers of several small plants, intended to be cared for during the show’s duration. The artist’s inner world cannot be restrained: It is alive, joyous, and rife with compassion.
— Monica Uszerowicz
