New York
California car culture serves as a vehicle for social critique and activism in Eddie R. Aparicio’s “Rubberneckers” (on view through October 31, 2026). The title, a reference to morbidly curious onlookers, particularly drivers who slow down traffic to gawk at a roadside accident, could not be more apt. Thrust metaphorically into the driver’s seat, we cruise along as if on a Los Angeles freeway, regarding in quick glimpses an unfolding spectacle of disaster and environmental destruction.
A Los Angeles native, whose family is from El Salvador, Aparicio has long explored the ties that connect Central America and immigrant neighborhoods in the U.S. Many of the works in this show continue the strategies of his earlier “Caucho” series in which Aparicio, disguised as a city maintenance worker, covertly made rubber castings of the trunks of Ficus trees marked for removal. Built up from thin layers of liquid rubber, which is then peeled off, the soft surfaces retain the marks, scars, paint, graffiti, and other residue of the tree’s history.
“Rubberneckers” opens with a series of five wall reliefs made of cast rubber. Approximately the same size as the artist with his arms extended up and out, each hanging traces the fragments and residual marks of its source and is trimmed with a handsewn diente de lobo stitch that Aparicio learned from his grandmother—the same stich that she used to make dolls from clothing left behind by relatives who disappeared during the Salvadoran Civil War. Each relief also includes a painting of a brightly colored sunset or a fiery explosion set within a sunburst shape resembling the logo of the utility company associated with the Los Angeles Eaton fires. The collective title makes Aparicio’s perspective clear and unequivocal: “This artwork is an independent social critique and is not affiliated with, or sponsored by, or endorsed by Southern California Edison.“
A group of freestanding sculptures continues the critique, satirically referencing the electrical transmission towers that have been linked to several California fires. Fashioned from sewn and stuffed clothing and fabric, Aparicio’s soft constructions resemble dolls and animals, but seen from other vantage points, they also suggest a muscular superhero and a formation of cheerleaders. Assembled, stacked, and at times inverted to form three tower-like structures, these stuffed shapes initially appear to be engaged in play. But the absurdity of building towers out of children’s toys gives the lie to such benign associations in this sly appraisal of the reckless indifference and irresponsible actions of electric utility companies.
The hangings collected under the title Soil Report combine materials gathered from Aparicio’s Altadena neighborhood, such as plants, grass, soil, and copper wire, with objects given to him by his neighbors and cast in amber. Mounted on canvas, these rubber reliefs explore memory and loss, acting as reliquaries of sorts and forming an archaeological database that provides an index of human activity while also preserving, time capsule-style, the social associations and political narrative of each item. This act of preservation is also mindful of the destructive aftermath of the Altadena and Eaton fires; long after they were extinguished, the environmental impact continued as toxic waste was then gathered and dumped within unsuspecting poor and immigrant communities.
Aparicio’s imaginary drive-by ends in a faux-forest of rectangular columns arranged in rows. A modern urban grid has replaced the irregular, organic forms of the Ficus tree, its field of rigidly upright totems promoting order and rationality, as the sparse and barren setting mourns the loss of nature.
