Dominican-born, NJ-based artist Bony Ramirez has brought his dreamy imagination of the Caribbean to the Newark Museum of Art. Expanding beyond the canvas and building those narratives in the space, the pieces on show in “Bony Ramirez: Cattleya” oscillate between a sense of longing and belonging in a land he has been far from for a long time now. So the proudly self-taught Ramirez, who recently had work featured in Christie’s Night Market, reimagines his homelands, drawing from childhood memories and family archives. In preparation for the show, he spent time in close conversation with the museum’s collection, with a focus on historical portraiture, West African art and contemporary American art in particular, and eventually chose Martin Heade’s Tropical Cattleya Orchid with Two Hummingbirds (1880s) as a counterpoint.
The exhibition marks an important moment both in Ramirz’s career and his personal story, as the Newark Museum of Art was the first arts institution Ramirez spent time in after moving to the United States and largely informed his visual vocabulary while he was making art right up until his market discovery during the pandemic. A few months after the opening of “Cattleya”, Observer caught up with the artist to discuss aspects of his ever-evolving practice that emerged and his artistic journey thus far.
Being born in the Dominican Republic and moving to the States in late teenagerhood, New Jersey is where you started your journey of reconnection through your art. What does it mean for you to have your first extensive exhibition in New Jersey?
Having my first museum exhibition in New Jersey is an honor. It’s a full circle moment because the Newark Museum of Art was the first museum I ever visited when I moved to the U.S. Having a show here is a great pleasure and a significant accomplishment. It’s inspiring to be able to give back to the community that influenced me so much and to inspire others the same way the museum inspired me back in the day. I’m excited to give back to New Jersey some of the artistic influence it had on me.
You provided your interpretation of Martin Heade’s Tropical Cattleya Orchid with Two Hummingbirds through a contemporary lens and integrated it into your narrative. What inspired you in this dialogue and to explore the contemporary reactivation of a historical piece?
Flowers have always been a big inspiration in my artistic practice. When I first visited the museum, I was drawn to Martin Heade’s painting, not only because I felt connected to its tropical landscape but also because of the beauty of the flower. When coming up with ideas for the show, I knew I wanted to continue the tradition of dedicating most of my exhibitions to flowers. I thought this was the perfect space to continue that.
This orchid is not only beautiful but also has an interesting place in nature. As a plant that survives by attaching itself to trees, I saw a direct connection with the history of the Caribbean, as well as the environmental and scientific influence that the work has had. With this, I was able to create a dialogue and connect the dots about what I wanted the exhibition to be. It also allowed me to pay homage to that painting that I first connected with when I visited the museum for the first time in 2014.
I can see how your art draws heavily from religious painting and the Italian Renaissance and Mannerism, which in your work organically blends with something deeply Caribbean in the symbologies and in your choice of characters. I know that your first access to art was through the church. Can you expand on how these visual references reactivate more freely and queerly in your work?
Being exposed to religious art at an early age definitely sparked my interest in Renaissance painting and 18th and 19th-century compositions. For the show, I wanted to incorporate a lot of those inspirations that have built up my practice. By using the museum’s collection in that way, I was able to add these compositions in a more free, extensive and diverse manner than traditional Renaissance or religious paintings. I also included aspects of my queer identity in these compositions.
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Growing up in the church could be really restraining and limiting, especially for a queer artist. So, I mainly took the beauty and complexity of those paintings and compositions and reinterpreted them in my own way. This reinterpretation can be seen throughout the show. You can definitely see the influence of religious iconography in some of the works, such as where the figure takes the center, the big dresses and even in the tattoos of some of the figures in the exhibition.
Throughout all the works in the show, I see this attempt to reconnect with the Caribbean: the shells, tropical flowers, coconuts and Dominican Diablo Carnival masks—even the swirls of rainbows in your characters’s ears connect with the ocean. How does your art allow you to rediscover where you’re from and relate to other people who are missing the Carribean they left?
In my case, I haven’t been back to my country since I got to the U.S. For me, every body of work is almost a soul-searching experience. Each time, I try to think about something I left behind in my country or a memory I had as a kid. Every exhibition allows me to dig back into my memories of things I’ve experienced.
In the same way, many people from the Caribbean who haven’t visited their country or who don’t feel represented in contemporary art can see themselves in the work through all the different symbolisms that I use, which are unique to the Caribbean. I want people to feel closer to the Caribbean as if it were their own land. I want them to be reminded of what it is and to always keep it close to their hearts, just like I do by incorporating these elements in my paintings.
It’s also a way for people like myself, who came to another country at a young age, to reconnect with their culture. For those who aren’t from the Caribbean, my art can serve as an introduction to its rich history and culture.
You didn’t have access to formal artistic education, but you developed an extremely personal language, where references from art history fluidly combine with a more “empathic” representation of the human body. How important is the body for you in those works?
The body plays a crucial role in my work. It’s what sets my figures apart from other forms of human representation. I use the body to explore and express new identities and worlds. The way I depict their bodies, with unique features and extremities, helps them exist in their own distinct realm, going beyond conventional human forms.
My figures seem to invite viewers into their space and environment. Through their portrayal, I aim to offer a glimpse into a reality that’s different from our own, expanding how we perceive and understand the world.
I noticed a recurring presence of young girls and children who are still in the process of shaping their bodies and identities. Is this coming from your spontaneous art historical education and the paintings you’ve been exposed to, or do you think there’s some deeper subconscious reason for this particular choice of subjects?
In my work, I often use children to reflect on my childhood experiences. I’ve found that compositions can be more powerful when a child is featured in the figure. For this body of work, I aimed to include a range of ages and appearances to capture a more universal experience across different life stages.
When it comes to older women in my paintings, I think it’s important to highlight their positions of power. Being raised by a single mother, I’ve always felt a deep connection to and admiration for strong women. This influence almost subconsciously seeps into my work, reflecting the significant women in my life.
In this show, as with the recent one at Jeffrey Deitch, I feel that your recent works are becoming increasingly explicit and political. They address critical themes such as the role of the Catholic Church in colonization and the abuse of Indigenous and enslaved populations, unveiling how these processes of exploitation continue today. I’m thinking of this large work, Caribbean Express, which explicitly refers to the tourist economy’s exploitation of those places as paradises to enjoy and leave. Could you elaborate on this and share more about the primary purpose you attribute to your art?
In much of my practice, I address strong themes such as the colonization of the Caribbean and various forms of exploitation. I believe the compositions in my paintings must be brutally honest about these issues. I aim to inform viewers about historical and ongoing exploitation, and it’s important to show these realities explicitly without sugarcoating them.
I want to present a clear understanding of our current reality, the past, and the potential future if changes aren’t made. I’m passionate about confronting viewers with these issues head-on to encourage them to think more deeply about what they’re seeing. While my work has always been direct and brutal in its compositions, I’ve become increasingly comfortable with being explicit in how I address these themes. It’s about making sure that the message isn’t lost and that it prompts a thoughtful response.
You’re a restless experimenter, appropriating and repurposing organic and industrial materials and recomposing them. In a previous interview, you shared that most of this came from “tricks in constructing and decorating buildings,” which you’re now applying in your works. Here, you adventured in some ambitious installations. How do you conceive those installation elements and approach them? Do they function like a set where you’re staging your narrative or a continuation of the works on the wall?
For me, how the viewer experiences the work is almost as important as the work itself. I want the installation to bring the viewer into the world I am creating. When working on exhibitions, I focus on how the space informs and influences the presentation. I consider how viewers will navigate the gallery and how they will experience the show.
In this exhibition, the central room serves as a palette cleanser, providing a more open and accessible experience before viewers encounter the more challenging works in the side rooms. This arrangement helps influence the exhibition’s flow and thoughtfully guides viewers through the narrative.
The installation elements, such as the chains, are designed to complement and amplify the paintings, enhancing the overall experience and ensuring that the exhibition’s message is effectively communicated. The space and how viewers interact with it are crucial for conveying the themes and emotions of the work, extending beyond just the works on the wall.
You were among those artists for whom the pandemic offered unprecedented possibilities, achieving first-moment visibility through online shows and Instagram. Long story short for readers, you were an artist but worked gruelingly in the construction system until at least 2020 when people finally saw and acknowledged your talent. Looking back on this institutional show and what’s ahead, what was your biggest regret and significant moment of awareness of achievement along the way?
My practice experienced a significant shift during the pandemic. Social media and online opportunities played a crucial role in growing my career. Looking back, I don’t have any major regrets. I believe things unfolded as they were meant to, leading me to where I am today. But one thing I’ve learned is to be more patient. In the beginning, I was anxious and wanted everything to happen all at once because there was so much happening around me. Now I’ve learned to take my time and not be so focused on the pace of things.
A significant moment of realization for me was having a solo show at the Armory Show in 2021. That exhibition really confirmed that I was here to stay. It was a turning point when various museums acquired my work, and I gained a larger platform for people to see my art. That experience reassured me that I was on the right path and that everything I had done up to that point had paid off.
“Bony Ramirez: Cattleya” is on view at The Newark Museum of Art through March 9, 2025.
