Rufino Tamayo, Homage to the Indian Race, 1952.
David Alfaro Siqueiros. Portrait of the Bourgeosie, 1939. Just through January 8, 2017, the Philaelphia Museum of Art is presenting a wonderful exhibition of Mexican Art, Painting the Revolution: Mexican Modernism, 1910-1950. The show offers a lot. On display for you to think about are Mexican history, politics, and social-cultural change; the work of larger than life individuals, including artists, politicians, and heros of the people; several different art movements; Communism; Fascism in its many forms; the movement of artists across borders; and more.
Seeing the art makes me want to go back soon to Mexico City. I want to see this art and more of it in the place where it was produced. For example, although the video and film representations of the murals of Diego Rivera and David Alfaro Siqueiros are very powerful, they leave the viewer wanting to see the "real thing," up close -- wanting to stand in front of the actual murals in the special sites for which they were commissioned.
Jose Clemente Orozco, The Epic of American Civilization. 1932-1934.
Same is true for the murals by Jose Clemente Orozco that are in the library at Dartmouth College, no matter how gruesome many of his panels are. The above is a rather shocking depiction of the academic system.
Particular pieces that I know I will find myself thinking lots more about in the future include three marvelous pieces by Frida Kahlo. One is her first self-portrait that she called her "Botticelli."
Particular pieces that I know I will find myself thinking lots more about in the future include three marvelous pieces by Frida Kahlo. One is her first self-portrait that she called her "Botticelli."
Frida Kahlo, Self-Portrait in a Velvet Dress, 1926.
This portrait, long neck and all, is just lovely. Maybe not quite as lovely but certainly very thought provoking are two later pieces that Kahlo did while in the United States. Through both, she expresses her strong criticism of life in the north and one offers a striking contrast between her view of life in Mexico and that in the U.S.
Frida Kahlo, My Dress Hangs There, 1933-1938.
Frida Kahlo. Self-Portrait on the Border between Mexico and the United States, 1932.
Elizabeth Catlett. Sharecropper, 1952. Close to the end of the exhibit is a large room filled with political prints, many produced by two very active artist collectives, with messages that shout at the viewer. Printmaking as an art form that is especially well-suited to political commentary and action has strong roots in the work of Mexican artists. No punches are pulled here. The artists' naming of evil in the world and their calls to eradicate it fill the room.
Among all the pieces in this room, one that quickly caught my eye and wouldn't let it go was a linocut by the US artist, Elizabeth Catlett. In 1946, Catlett traveled to Mexico to work with the Taller de Grafica Popular (The Workshop for Popular Graphic Art). The philosophy and goals of this group of Mexican artists well-suited Catlett's aim to make art of and for working people. Catlett found in this workshop a safe space, without the prejudices and inequality she faced as an African American woman in the US.
Among all the pieces in this room, one that quickly caught my eye and wouldn't let it go was a linocut by the US artist, Elizabeth Catlett. In 1946, Catlett traveled to Mexico to work with the Taller de Grafica Popular (The Workshop for Popular Graphic Art). The philosophy and goals of this group of Mexican artists well-suited Catlett's aim to make art of and for working people. Catlett found in this workshop a safe space, without the prejudices and inequality she faced as an African American woman in the US.
