Wlademir Dias-Pino

Here’s what happens when the son of a typographer grows up to be an artist who considers the alphabet mankind’s cruellest invention

By Fernanda Brenner

Works by Wlademir Dias-Pino at Ibirapuera Park during the 32nd Bienal de São Paulo, 2016. Photo: Leo Eloy / Estúdio Garagem . Courtesy the artist. Fundação Bienal de São Paulo Works by Wlademir Dias-Pino at Ibirapuera Park during the 32nd Bienal de São Paulo, 2016. Photo: Leo Eloy / Estúdio Garagem . Courtesy the artist. Fundação Bienal de São Paulo Wlademir Dias-Pino, Brasil meia-meia, 1966, book-poem. Courtesy the artist A page from Wlademir Dias-Pino’s book-poem A Ave, 1956. Courtesy the artist

Since early September, a large sign has welcomed visitors to São Paulo’s main Ibirapuera Park. It is both curious and enigmatic, deploying a language that appears familiar, but offers no obviously intelligible message. It seems open to interpretation, but remains a graphic combination of triangles and primary colours that looks flat from a distance, but more complex as one approaches, before finally revealing itself to be a relief formed by overlapping wooden boards. Is this some kind of code? A…

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