A jatobá, or jatobã, jatobazeiro, Hymenaea courbaril, easily lives for more than a hundred years, some for more than a thousand. How long does a world (and a MUDDA) live while it falls? A tree allied with knowledge and original beings, sacred, the name “hard fruit” comes from Tupi. It even falls, but does not open. Those who were here and continue to be here, before those who cut down worlds and trees arrived, opened the fruit, and did so to use it in meditative processes, generating mental balance. It is found from southern Mexico, to the Catinga, in the Cerrado, in the Amazon it doubles in height and width. There are some in the Pantanal, Singapore, Kenya, Sri Lanka, Uganda, Taiwan and Madagascar: there is Jatobá!

 

JÁFALLEN! refers to the jatoba tree that has been alive and well ever since Ritter and his gang planted concrete there. Aware of the tree's divinity, Gustav arranges for the building's main entrance to be located beneath it, receiving its blessing. Some say that all of CELG's energy came from it. They tried to make it fall so that it would live, perhaps longer than the world, but the perversity of capital, which turns everything into death, poisoned the world, killed the jatoba tree, which fell without being fallen.

 

In this exhibition of over three hundred posters, by over one hundred and ten artists and collectives, from over thirty-five cities, from all regions of Brazil, we pay homage to him: the Jatobá. A fitting homage made of leaves, colors, shapes, words. The diversity of the material that makes up this collection is remarkable. We have poems, drawings, montages, analog and digital collages, photographs, messages, manifesto phrases, eroticism, complete murals, engravings, abstractions, posters, hand paintings. Digitals from the multiple Brazil make art for the falling walls of a falling world of the falling MUDDA. Almost as many leaves as on a dream tree.

 

We chose MUDDA outside, without a roof, only sky, inaugurating an external gallery: Jardim Jurupiá, referencing the artist's intervention with her work carried out beyond the main building. Goiânia, a city with already licked walls, marked by three editions of Lambisgóia, now has muddeological collage inside the rubble and peeling walls. There is an assault on peripheral vision! The profusion of rooms, filled at different distances, creates something between that can confuse, and can invite. Once again, the rubble is active, and now acts as a curator: it determines the walls that best receive glue and paper, making others unfeasible with lively and rebellious textures. The absence of windows turns into a collection of frames, the most licked walls are always behind: the ones in front, which hardly stick at all, keep the works from obvious or lazy glances.

 

We disinvite everyone: licking is good, just stick it on!