There is the old idea that art can change this tired, clapped out world in which we live, or at least that it can make us see it differently. Jota Castro is a Peruvian artist un-removed from politics, having spent a career for many years in international diplomacy, and perhaps one that does his best to resuscitate this bold ideal, so long disenfranchised by the constraints of postmodern indifference and the sieve-like effect of pluralism.

Suddenly however, attending Castro’s opening at the Palais de Tokyo of his Exposition Universelle 1 in February 2005, one finds themselves in that most alien of things for a contemporary audience: a political performance where the prejudicial forces of the everyday are inverted, and which are mandatory to suffer in order to enter the show. This is an art opening where we feel more ill at ease than our PC society could ever hope to make us. This is Castro conjuring up from the past, for one night, the frightening reality of the way the modern world works. For one night only Ladies and Gentlemen this is Discrimination Day…

The last time I came across Castro he was handing out his Survival Guide For Demonstrations at the Venice Biennale art fair - a publication that mapped out various protests and their contexts, a how-to handbook on being a political animal in today’s small world. Since dedicating his time fully to art, Castro has been as much activist as artist, and the aim as such is therefore to highlight the machinations of the power rhythms existent in the world, to react as best he can to the social problems, in concrete practical ways that at once demand a reworking of the audience’s prejudices and apathy and point out the need for change.

His art gives an immediate contact, where you feel momentarily empowered or enlightened and like his Survival Guide, attending Universelle Exposition 1 you inevitably, unlike a lot of current art, leave with a strong sense of the work’s intention: liking it or not, you’ll have arrived at the point Castro wished you to reach.

The Discrimination Day performance consisted of two entrances into the show: one entitled WHITE/BLANCS and the other OTHERS/AUTRES. Castro himself manned the OTHERS entrance whilst an army of large security guards worked the other, systematically making it difficult and uncomfortable for the crowds of white people winding their way through the maze of barriers. Black people, Maghrebs, Asian and Indian people, all those sadly so often subjected to routine checks and controls on the Parisian Metro simply because of the colour of their skin (this form of racism is known as Face crime), were given a free reign and entered freely. It seems that this divisive exertion is a necessary catharsis in order to purge ourselves of any sense of knowing just how restrictive and at times fraudulent our free world is. I found it wholly persuasive, and at one point, I was worried about not getting into the show, this despite the fact that we were writing up the event.  One (white, midde-aged Scandinavian) made a small protest, shouting how it was all so unjust and was promptly removed by Jota’s army.
It seemed so unfair and so peculiar but in the same instant I managed to get an insight into the experience of so many millions throughout history who were faced with the basest of man’s stupidity, and who had to ask themselves why and whether they should revolt, resist or demonstrate against senseless discrimination.

Castro shares an affinity with other current jokers in the concept art world, as with so many of say Maurizio Cattalan’s pieces, this idea was ‘born of a jest’. And it works. The rest of the show consisted of, as ever with the Palais' solo shows, large installations; a series of turnstiles bringing you nowhere except into a metal, revolving prison, a mini reconstruction of a Guantanamo Bay cell. Only you realise suddenly its not mini at all, it is in fact more than likely to scale.
Other curtained doors manned by large Black bouncers led you to what felt like an exclusive night club zone and we had to convince them why we should be allowed enter.

It doesn’t take a large effort to figure out that those of us who are restricted day to day, refused entry, given a hard time and indeed negated on a practical level due to our personal appearance or cultural background will quickly feel their identity in accentuated ways. Identity, when discriminated against, will gain in intensity what it loses in normality.  The ability to experience the Other and suffer the losses some suffer due to their race is one way of gaining the necessary lessons in Humanity that may one day lead us to the universalism an angry Jota Castro seems to believe in.

Stepping into another’s shoes, as the cliché says, undertaking a historical anamnesis and realising that the ‘free’ world has a lot of work to do regarding the upkeep of freedom and the fight against racism and prejudice, are now absolutely requisite. Castro’s art goes a distance in helping us do this, in subtle ways, and that is where its charm and effectiveness lie.

The artist’s exhibition “Breaking Icons” is another installation performance. Castro puts "his heroes and intellectual father figures in glass frames. He breaks these pictures as a symbolic patricide to free himself from the influential figures that have affected his thinking and his life” - ARS’ O6

For more information on Jota Castro and recent works and exhibitions consult the Finnish National Gallery (KIASMA) and the Palais de Tokyo websites.

Also Check out www.banksy.co.uk, for more political stunts by British artist Banksy.

John Holten writes in Paris. www.johnholten.com