By Monique Jones
By Travis Cohen
By Liz Tracy
By Terrence McCoy
By Morgan Golumbuk
By Ciara LaVelle
By Carolina del Busto
By Michael E. Miller
One of the most interesting things about Filtro is the laid-back, unpretentious nature of the space.
There is an air hockey table in the main gallery, and a pool table. People often enjoy a friendly game during openings or hang out in the spacious back room, where a sprawling sectional couch adds to the area's comfortable, loungey vibe. This is where Filtro spools its films on a large, wall-size screen.
During a recent visit, Zaldivar's Dos Rios, a five-minute short, captured the foul pool of horse shit contaminating both sides of the Elián González divide.
The artist split the screen with the official exile Miami squawk to the right, and Cuba's claims that the U.S. had illegally nabbed the kid on the left. As the screen conveys the rabid flag-waving and epitaph-hurling on both sides, the soundtrack of Cubans in Havana and Cubans in Miami drown each other out.
The show is a reminder why "Sending Fidel a telegram" has become such a popular euphemism for taking a dump among Miami's exilio community. That point is further driven home in the gallery's bathroom, where the toilet paper is plastered with El Comandante's gob.