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Power and the Art of Mexico
July 28, 2010 | Elisabeth Gambino

mexico_powerI work as an inner city public school art teacher in Baltimore, Maryland. I have an MFA in traditional painting and drawing and a strong interest in art for social change, performative and public artwork. This summer I am in Mexicio by way of a Fulbright Hayes Study Abroad Seminar on Mexican Art and Culture. I am currently in Taxco, Mexico after a week spent in Mexico City. The program is designed to expose participants to a broad overview of the art and culture of Mexico. This includes the Mesoamerican, Viceregal and Contemporary Periods.

In Mexico art has been an expression of power and domination since at least the Olmecs period. Monumentally scaled art was used to intimidate the enemy and the subjugated peoples of various Mesoamerican empires, and the fiercer the gods the better.  Reproductions have difficulty communicating the massive impact of Olmec heads and Toltec warriors towering 20 feet over the viewer.  The Teotihuacan empire intimidated its lower classes as well as its enemies through fierce, blood-thirsty gods; one example is the mother goddess, Coatlicue, who is immense and square and has a skirt of snakes and a necklace of severed human hearts and hands.  The Chac Mool, an effigy depicted in a supine stance holding a bowl to collect the beating heart of a sacrificial victim, appears all over mexico – even in ex convents and monasteries.   Teotihuacan, city of the gods, was dedicated to ritual sacrifice and bloodletting, and at ____ square miles is only estimated one percent excavated.

Before the conquest, emperors, priests and others of elevated status were celebrated by their immortalization in the plastic arts. Feathers from hummingbirds, quetzals, and other birds were meticulously sorted and used to construct detailed portraits of wealthy and important individuals.   Under Spanish rule, the portraits shifted to sculptures and oil paintings; endless religious images as well as portraits of prominent monks and nuns, all to accord status.  The precious materials of gold and silver used in ornate baroque frames can be directly linked to work that caused the deaths of thousands of Indians brutally enslaved in the mining industry.  Sculpturally, eagle warriors were prominently featured in a  broad range of temple decorations, and carvings also to celebrate  individual rulers.  The Monumento de Tizoc, an Mexica bas relief on an enormous tondo, depicts for all who passed it, Tizoc’s many conquests  

When a regime changed  the art was vandalized, built on top of, or appropriated by each new ruler. Even after independence, new art was created depicting the new powers as even more powerful— these bear similarities to the socialist realism that included the glorified portraits of Communist revolutionary leaders such as China’s Mao and the Soviet Union’s Lenin.  Porfirio Diaz, an oppressive president who ruled for over 30 years while modernizing Mexico, celebrated his rule by erecting enormous statues and paintings of Charles IV and ornate governmental buildings with images of anglicized Mexicans posing in the classical style.  A contemporary radical artist could consider a “Status Project” elevating the status of a group or individual by choosing to depict them in a monumental fashion, appropriating local or newly developing global visual signifiers of superiority, strength, or divine sanction.

The Mexican revolution of 1910 was a proletarian revolt which still looms in the public imagination. The people’s revolution and the ongoing struggles of the Zapatista are immortalized in living arts such as the Ballet Folklorico as well as the murals of the 1920s-1950s.  In the dance “Revolucion” female dancers in the classical full skirts and white embroidered tops swirl and kick, while wearing a shoulder strap with cartridges and flourishing a rifle. This is the only dance in which the dancers don’t smile and celebrates the solderas, female soldiers who fought in the revolution of 1910.  The revolution is celebrated popularly and is a part of the visual landscape of most Mexican art of the past century. The charming countryside shot of a campesino in a white shirt and large sombrero may pass as kitsch to the naïve but Mexicans recognize the image immediately as a revolutionary.  These dancers are decorative but dangerous.

The struggle for power was certainly not over with the revolution, though as many dangerous topics it is most often addressed through satire.  Pageantry and humor mark the heroism depicted in the wildly popular Lucha Libre wrestling ring.  Similar to the American WWE in some manners, the lucha libre tradition is also uniquely Mexican. Masks are formally related to images of Tlaloc and other gods from Mexica temples; the image of a cotton candy vendor with an eagle mask resting on his forehead is strangely familiar to the ancient terra cotta figure in the museum of anthropology, if one removes the sweets.  In the wrestling ring, the dark side fights the light side in a battle reminiscent of an ancient battle for man’s control of the universe.  During each eclipse, the Aztec/Mexica people feared the sun would be destroyed by lunar powers, and performed special sacrifices of eagle warriors to ensure the sun would not be eaten entirely and life as we know it would continue. While we can’t verify the history of acrobatic stunts like backflips off the side of the wresting ring, we can see the visual continuum in exaggerated eyes, flame and skull motifs, and fringes or plumage. Is this simply a commodification of history? The enthusiasm of the crowd and the richness and liveliness of the creative performances are undeniable.  This tradition of the warrior is not dead, but celebrated, in vinyl and spandex glory.  Perhaps other messages could be inferred – always land on your feet. Watch your brother’s back and your enemy’s back more closely.

While the luchadoras can be viewed for 30 pesos, or about $2.50,  The ballet costs $50 a ticket, more than most Mexicans make in a month, and is attended largely by tourists who enjoy the aesthetically rich show.  It is a beautiful celebration of a diverse country.  It is very historic in theme and strongly influenced by classical Spanish dance, except for a few pieces which are more primitivist.    Mexicans at the moment are watching the world cup.  The mayor of Mexico city has many experimental campaigns, including shutting down the Plaza Reforma, a major expressway, each Sunday for bicycle and foot traffic. His most popular current intitiative involves a giant plasma screen TV, over 50 feet high, which has been erected on the Plaza in front of Templo Mayor and the National Cathedral.  Templo Mayor, discovered in 1981, is the most important Aztec temple, originally built on a manmade island, and the legislative center of the Teotihuacana civilization.  The National Cathedral is the most significant monument of New Spain, built intentionally next to the most important temple so that the indigenas could worship in the same outdoor plaza while being converted to Christianity by a few well aimed guns.  The television, sponsored “in 3D vision by Sony” is free and open to the public, so that all Mexicans can come watch the game in the symbolic center of Mexico.  Popular art, free and accessible to all, regardless of income, class, or heritage, and symbolic of modern Mexico.

Outside of the sectioned off area, several gentlemen are seated quietly holding cardboard signs that identify them as electricians. They do not seem to be begging.  There is some stenciling on the sidewalk and a simulated tent city made of political flyers a few blocks down.  Here is where it gets interesting: the electricians of Mexico City have been laid off, over 70 days ago, by a sudden nationalization of the electricity plants.  The electricians are one of the oldest unions in Mexico, but have been replaced by scabs who do not have adequate training and as a result the power goes out, especially during rainstorms, which are frequent. The Supreme Court is concerned and has ruled that even if unemployed, the union cannot be dissolved. Several union members are on hunger strikes, and if they pass away from starvation the population will be even more incensed.  Meanwhile, most citizens of Mexico City and the outlying areas have unreliable electricity, and over 40,000 skilled electricians are out of work.  The populist sentiment that seems to be at work in the giant jumbotron display is not so strong that the government is interested in restoring the union to work.  The large scale public art pacifies the masses and showcases the “modern” government – but profit mongering and political infighting stands in the way of continued modernization.   The art showcases the power of the current government over the colonial and indigenas empires – celebrating the masses, in appearance – while in reality the masses are at the whim of a corrupt bureaucratic system.

-Elisabeth Gambino
Taxco, Guerrero, Mexico, July 2010




By Elisabeth Gambino

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