Miguel Calderón Interview

Miguel Calderón: Neurotics Anonymous
May 1 – June 7, 2025
Kurinanzutto
516 W 20th Street
New York
tel. +1 212 933 4470
newyork@kurimanzutto.com
tuesday to saturday: 10 am – 6 pm

Interview by James Maher
Japanese Translation by Miwa Susuda

JM: Can you tell us about the show?

MC: Hi, I'm Miguel Calderon. Welcome to my show, Neurotics Anonymous. There's this spot in Mexico called Neurotics Anonymous, and I started following these posters that announced meetings. I started getting obsessed with the iconography that represents the association. And that's the beginning.

JM: Do you find yourself getting obsessed with ideas often?

MC: Oh, I am very obsessive. Definitely, very obsessive. It all started because I got obsessed with the iconography of this association called Neurotics Anonymous. I'm obsessed with psychology. I just started collecting these posters for the meetings and then I started attending the meetings. That was the starting point for the show.

JM: Was there a connection to your mother and your childhood?

MC: Yes, indeed. I grew up with a very neurotic mom, and this led to her actually going to some of these meetings. Not exactly Neurotics Anonymous, but a similar association.

JM: Can you tell us about the print behind you, it’s about your father?

MC: My father was a professional car racer, and when I was growing up, he got into a lot of accidents. There's a specific photograph where he pleads and says he will never race again after this accident. The photo was of an accident, and through my dad, I met a photographer that I really liked. I loved his work. They nicknamed him "The Vulture" in Spanish, and he was obsessed with documenting accidents. That's why they called him The Vulture—he was always waiting for accidents to happen. I remember my dad taking me to see his archive, and I saw this photograph of an accident, and it stuck in my mind. What really drew my attention more than the accident was that there was a photographer in the picture taking a photograph of the accident. So this photograph is a recreation of that image from memory. It was a black and white picture, so I recreated it. What really stuck in my mind wasn't the accident—it was our obsession with catastrophe, and more specifically, my obsession with catastrophe. I find myself continuously documenting situations that are catastrophic, like landscapes in disarray, and I think it just helps. It helps me get grounded and realize how all this catastrophe makes us very vulnerable and fragile. But at the same time, it makes me embrace my surroundings and live to the fullest.

JM: Was there trauma in a way, having a father as a race car driver?

MC: The more traumatic thing was when I was a young teenager, I tried to do go-kart racing. My dad wanted me to race. And the realization that I wasn't talented enough to be a car racer was kind of shocking. But I think all these elements have taken me to make art. What I enjoy about making art is that I choose one subject and become very obsessed with it, and I engage in very deep investigations.

JM: Can you tell us about Cocktail Hunters (Cocteleitors) and how you got involved with them?

MC: Yes, of course. I grew up going to art openings. I've always been a fan of art and I've always made art. I never decided I was going to be an artist—it's just something I always knew I was going to do. As a young teenager, I used to go to these openings because they offered free cheese, wine, and grapes mostly. There were violinists. It was very associated with classical art. But I remember the openings always had food, and I was one of the people that actually did see the art. But I've always seen people that just go and eat. I've done it also. More recently, I always explore what's close to me, what's really in my surroundings. I go to a lot of openings. I started noticing how a group of people went into the opening with empty backpacks, and then I noticed at the door that the backpacks were full. So I was very curious about this phenomenon.
I started talking to them and befriending them, and I realized that these guys, the Cocteleitors, live from eating food at openings. And it really drew my attention because it talks a lot about the dynamics and politics of art. They often talk about VIPs and exclusivity, and I've always been very against exclusivity. So yeah, as with all my film projects, if I don't attain close proximity to the people I'm filming, it doesn't work. So we've actually become friends. And, you know, you often judge people. You see them eating at an opening and you tend to judge. In this case, I wanted to explore where they were coming from with more empathy. In this video we explore their backgrounds. It's 30 minutes, but it's part of a longer project. It's ongoing. So I'm going to continue exploring the subject.

JM: Can you tell me a little bit about the man in that other 4x5 print?

MC: Yes, that's Luis, one of the Cocteleitors as they call themselves. And we've become quite close. We write each other. And him specifically, I was drawn to the way he dressed. He dressed like 70s rock and roll. I've always had this fixation with his style. Then I found he was part of this group. They have a chat in which they send each other events where there's food. Different groups. Sometimes they don't want others to find out so they can eat the best food available. Luis is a super kind, loving guy. Just following him around—his look is so imposing, and I really wanted to do a portrait of his. So I got a 4x5 camera and we did this very straightforward portrait at a friend's house. And as in a lot of my work, especially photography, I feel like once I see the photograph—they're always negatives, 35mm and 4x5s—once I sit down and start scanning the images, I always find these revelations. And the moment I saw the image of Luis, I was shocked by how much he looked like Antonin Artaud.
Antonin Artaud was a French poet who spent a lot of time in Mexico. He went to visit and study in the north of Mexico and studied the effects of peyote. So I titled that photograph The Reincarnation of Artaud, because I felt that the picture captured the spirit of this poet that I really admire.

JM: They are very profound in the video. They're very sensitive.

MC: It's become very interesting to me how they are critics. We go to openings and tend to have very similar opinions. I engage in very deep conversations about the art world in Mexico, how it was in the 80s and how it's changed in the 90s. They used to offer food for the press—they don't anymore. They wanted to draw in people, so they had to adapt. I often engage in very interesting conversations, and they're very critical of the work. Many times we share the same opinions. I really like that because they're very straightforward. If they don't like something, they say it's a piece of shit. And often, I feel the same way. So it's nice to hear their unfiltered opinions. And yeah, they probably see more art than anybody. They pretend to take pictures at the openings just to get to the drinks. But as you see in the video, one of them talks about how he loves Van Gogh. And it is very profound. It shows how art connects to people on different levels.

JM: You started a collective in Mexico City. Can you tell me about that?

MC: Of course. In the early 90s, me and a group of young artists started an art space called La Panadería, which was an old bakery. Basically, we were tired of protocols and having to kiss people's ass to get a show. So we just did it hands on—do it yourself. Actually, that's the title of Social Thing, about how I despise social climbing. It’s a little bit literal, and I know it means many other things, but that’s the spirit.

JM: When you were younger and into art, did you want to be a filmmaker or do a mix of things?

MC: I had this presentation with teenagers the other day, and it was very profound. They asked me, what's your favorite art form in your work? My visceral answer was: making films. I really love embracing the moments that surround me and taking them to the limit.
But when I'm done with a film, the amount of people you work with is overwhelming. So I need my own space. I start drawing—very personal, very quiet, meditative ink drawings that I start spontaneously. When that gets tiring, I go out and take photographs.
I don't have a favorite medium, but I find a home for different things in each one. I do like classic photography. My photographs are very straightforward. I don't use Photoshop. I do some color correction, but they're very raw. I shoot most of them with point-and-shoot cameras, other than the 4x5s. It's a straightforward exercise in trying to see things others don't—or even I don't, until I start scanning the negatives. That's what surprises and shocks me in a positive way about photography.

JM: Between the power of a single print and a whole movie, how do they compare for you?

MC: Yeah. I often say that if I could, I would just make films, but it's completely contradictory. I know it's not true. I'm lying to myself. Because every time I finish a film, I want to regroup, and I start taking photographs and making drawings. I'm very lucky that I'm addicted to making art. It's my addiction.

JM: Did you have ADHD growing up?

MC: Yeah, I definitely had ADHD growing up, but I find it absurd. I think it's an excuse to medicate children. My ADHD showed up in physics and math class. But the moment I started studying art, it went away. Of course you're going to have ADHD if you don't like a subject—if it's boring or puts you to sleep. Actually, these drawings come from that time. During math and physics classes, I started making little drawings.

JM: Did you always draw when you were younger?

MC: I drew in my notebooks. I made a lot of grotesque and sarcastic cartoons about my teachers. They were so hard on me. It was a form of escape so I didn’t have to deal with the math and the physics. I failed constantly—which wasn’t good.

JM: How is the gallery scene in Mexico City compared to New York?

MC: The openings in Mexico are very vibrant. The interesting thing about the characters in the film is that they don't only go to art openings—they go to any event where there's food offered. I focus on the art events because that's the world I know. I try to make art about subjects that I know well.