The Coming of Age in Art English

I find the discussion of what has happened to art in the last five centuries thrilling; it deserves the deepest and most serious consideration. What has happened in the visual arts is no less 'important or meaningful than events in other areas of thought, creation and world history. The sesquicentennial of the arrival of not only the Spanish but generally and principally of Western culture to our coasts has inspired inventories, comparisons and reactions not always in accordance with reality. (Undoubtedly, the most vociferous have been the "nativists," lately supported by authentic, though few, groups of natives protesting the "enslavement of local cultures," naturally, in Castilian Spanish).

We should, above all, avoid putting too much emphasis on blood; as a people we are more a result of a cultural mixture than a mixture of blood. And, as far as culture goes, we maestros can look back without fear: with pride even. Our native continent was one of five or six regions on the planet that, without taking into consideration the regressive influence of an exchange of civilizations in other places, developed an independent and autonomous culture. On the Mexican plateau and the peninsula of Yucatán, in the dark Colombian Jungles and the rustic highlands of Chavín, in the sacred desert of Paracas and the marvelous valleys of Cuzco, natives left their own mark on the seemingly shapeless surrounding landscape. Whether beach, jungle, highland or desert, they knew how to create order, a universal concept, in the same way that great cultures have always left evidence of their passage.

I am reminded of the polyhedrons in the pyramids near Cairo, of the temples carved into the stone mountains of Elefanta, island off the coast of Bombay, of the Parthenon's perfect volume and, of course, both Chichén and Tikal and the moving and faultless Machu Picchu, subjected to a violent, confusing and indescribable nature. Philosophy was certainly the most important Western contribution to America. Direct descendant of Greek thought, it provided proven scientific ideas unacceptable to the profoundly medieval Spanish religion of the 16th century. Nonetheless, the Spaniards' faith was closer to American religious thought and, for this reason, the chroniclers of the Spanish Conquest related their attempts to bridge native beliefs and medieval Christianity. By concentrating on their respective ideas of death, of the inexplicable, the miraculous and magical, the gods, God and the life after death, certain parallels and, with a little effort and good will, even a few coincidences could be uncovered. In the pre-Colombian era, regional artists developed forms and techniques of expressing their beliefs resulting in an original art, highly sophisticated in its physical appearance and wide variety of content.

During the Conquest, these achievements were crushed and irremediably destroyed. The first verse of the beautiful Quechua elegy "What is this black rainbow rising up?" clearly describes the spiritual catastrophe hovering over America, the cultural and historical rupture that destroyed the deep roots of these populations and meant the total annihilation of traditional artistic creation dating from 900 BC and lasting until the 15th century. Several decades after the Conquest and well into colonial times, the Spanish, who built churches everywhere (it is said that in Cholula, Mexico, mass could be said each day of the year in a different church as there were more than three hundred sixty of them ... ), faced with a lack of illustrations for services, taught native artists to make engravings, usually in black and white, of European religious works of art. At some point one of Zurbarán's paintings showed up, and probably also some second-class European maestro. In any case, native artists were supposed to faithfully reproduce certain models. It was no mean feat: Copy engravings under the supervision of monks that were not themselves artists.

Nonetheless, in these colonial paintings, especially those produced in Cuzco, even with themes and techniques forced upon them, native artists left so deep a mark as to render them truly original works of art, closer to pre-Colombian art than the Renaissance oil paintings from which they had supposedly been copied, due to the way the artist organized the space and avoided any hint of a third dimension. This phenomenon shows up to different degrees in other arts. It is worth pointing out the colonial architecture of Mexico, Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia. Paradoxically, with political independence and the birth of the Peruvian and other Latin American republics, art becomes, for the first time, completely colonial. The ability and, worse still, the desire to produce anything other than cheap and docile imitations of European art disappear.

Furthermore, the sluggish nature of communications meant even these imitations were half a century behind the times. In the history of our art, the 19th century is both dramatic and gray, an era in which the idea of independence seriously confuses several only semi-integrated populations with a very unstable sense of identity. It seems in those days, in order for Americans to feel equal to Europeans, they had to forget their past and deny any traces of a non-European culture. I think many of the serious problems we suffer nowadays, particularly those of a political and social nature, are products of this blindness. In those painful and confusing years dedicated to the search for an identity, there were a few brilliant young artists like Merino and Laso that deviated from the romantic stance. Other more modest painters took a more historical position but no doubt better displayed their origins and with more conviction.

Among them the mulatto Gil de Castro who, as far as I'm concerned, left us, in his portrait of the martyr, Olaya, hanging in the National History Museum, with the most beautiful painting from this era. Also worth pointing out is the simpler example of Pancho Fierro, who, with modesty and talent, left in his paintings a testimony of everything he saw around him. It is disturbing for a Latin American artist to admit that in these regions, before the arrival of Western culture, we produced almost effortlessly -- without even attempting to do so - an autonomous and valid art, product of our own cosmic vision, uncontaminated by European ideas and philosophy. Especially if the artist concerned is a native of the Andean region, where the legacy of pre-Colombian cultures is undeniably part of the spirit of the inhabitants. Let me make it clear I do not pretend all artists have fallen victim to this influence, but I do believe that for any Latin American artist beginning his formation it is very important to be aware of a second cultural source, of standards other than those left us by the conquistadors. In the 1920s and thanks to the development of Mexican muralist art, artists all over the continent began to take interest in their own historical, political and social circumstances, in their traditions and, definitely, in their identity.

For several decades Latin American art was torn between two positions, between two magnetic poles represented by Mexican painting on the one hand, and that of Río de la Plata - and what was being done both in Buenos Aires and in Montevideo - on the other. Mexico, having gone through a political revolution, began, thanks to the strength and initiative of José Vasconcelos, to decorate its public buildings with murals in an attempt to teach Mexican history and native grandeur. The proposal seemed simple enough: teach through illustrations like Giotto taught the catechism to the illiterate inhabitants of Asis. Luckily, two artists of great talent, Diego Rivera and José Clemente Orozco, were part of a team chosen to decorate the buildings. Thanks to their genius, the paintings not only illustrated historical themes but achieved a level unprecedented in Latin America.

Mexico tried to recover its traditions and lost Identity and attempted to integrate a country with disturbing Inequalities through the use of art with roots and by concentrating on an awareness of its own circumstances, not what was happening outside the country. Elsewhere at the time, the greatest artistic revolution known to Western civilization was taking place. In painting, the Cubists, Expressionists, Surrealists and other tendencies were changing not only the way artists painted but also the way a painting was observed. This was the revolution taking Río de la Plata by storm: Joaquín Torres-Garcia in Montevideo and Emilio Pettoruti in Buenos Aires participated from the beginning in the most important European avant-garde movements. There are drawings by Torres-García dated 1897 that, like those by Picasso from this era, reflect the influence of the French post-Impressionists, Toulouse-Lautrec in particular. There are Cubist paintings by Pettoruti dated 1915.

Artists from this part of the continent were always in closer contact with Europe and were mere second and third generation Americans. These two distinct positions dominated the rest of Latin America for some time. Countries with a large native population and with an important pre-Colombian tradition each developed their own schools derived from the Mexican muralists in which little by little only a political, or simply folkloric or provincialist message survived. Undeniably, in these countries, among them Peru, attempts inspired by the Mexican muralists, in our case by Sabogal, meant the eruption of modern art in cities, like Lima, accustomed at the time to look, when they looked, only at European painting, even when the art that reached our shores was second class, sugarcoated, academic and totally void of artistic worth. It Is easy to imagine the impact in Lima of paintings by Sabogal and by Julia Codesido and her disciples, who had the "impertinence and bad taste" to paint Peruvians at work, at play and in their own surroundings.

The mistake of these "nativists" was the belief that by painting Peruvian themes they had created a Peruvian art form, confusing the theme of a painting with its content, leading to a style of painting that, although at times full of local color, almost never went any further. In countries with a large Old World immigrant population, works of art were produced that, although technically very good and comfortably up to European artistic standards, lacked a language of their own and the originality that characterizes all authentic creation. The 1930s marked the appearance of the first masters in what can finally be called Latin American art - not only because it was related to the place, that had spawned it, but because it spoke a contemporary language.

These artists had their feet planted firmly on the ground, on their own ground, but their minds remained open to the same things as artists and men in other latitudes and they were anxious to perfect the tools of their trade using others' discoveries for their own expression, certain that if their spirit remained totally and honestly rooted in their work, both the individual and the group of humans to which this individual belongs would speak through it. The Mexican painter Rufino Tamayo, the Chilean Roberto Matta and the Cuban Wilfredo Lam have produced not only individual masterpieces but have also shown us a way to come to terms with our Latin American selves. It is exciting to think of all that has happened in the last century here in Latin America and acknowledge that, in the area of cultural and artistic creation, we have come of age. After so much vacillation and the many mistakes made in the 19th century, it can be said that in this part of the world we now produce works that must be included in any selection of universal ideas and creation. Inevitably a thought comes to mind: How is it possible that the development responsible for the poetry of Borges and Vallejo, the literature of Rulfo, Vargas Llosa and Garcia Marquez, the architecture of Niemayer and Barragán, the music of VillaLobos and Revueltas, and the painting of Tamayo and Lam . hasn't this development affected our political class where almost all of the problems of the 20th century remain painfully omnipresent?

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The Cultural Integration of Latin America

The complex and exciting possibility of a cultural integration of Latin America, even in this initial phase, poses a variety of problems all requiring diverse types of research and decisions to be taken it we are sincerely interested in accomplishing something positive and not just expressing a sincere but vague desire.

Many of these problems are of a spiritual nature, philosophical even; others can be reduced to a group of purely practical measures. The former are related to profound reasons leading us to believe in the possibility of this cultural integration; the latter, to the disposition and measures required to assure that this union of different countries move from an ideal plane to a real one. I believe that in the area of these practical measures it has always been and always will be easier to come to an agreement. No doubt we can accept certain important 'Joint decisions and recommendations designed to simplify the creation of this "Latin American cultural common market." Better distribution, increased reciprocal awareness of Latin American art among these countries will be a big step forward. The elimination of customs obstacles, that even today make circulation of paintings and sculptures between our countries almost impossible, the touring of theater companies and musical groups according to a pre-established plan, would be a great accomplishment, as well as the joint publishing and adequate distribution of our best literature.

All this, I repeat, seems fundamental, but I consider the spiritual aspect to be a more serious matter, because it is not just a question of the distribution of a finished piece, the contact of the creator with a wider audience, but of the man (whether artist, teacher or critic) in relation to his work, of this Latin American man faced with himself, his own identity.

The sculptor Brancusi said: "It is not difficult to create a work of art: The difficulty is getting ourselves in the right condition to create it." It seems to me, in our case, this right condition requires an awareness of one's position in a determined group of human beings. The first and most important problem arising from this awareness is one of identity. "For the developing nations," states Octavio Paz, "being takes the form of a question: What are we and how is it possible to be who we are?" He goes on to say: "In spite of the almost always illusory nature of national attempts at psychology, I find revealing how, at times, people will take a serious look inwards at themselves. To wake history means an awareness of our uniqueness, a reflective pause before giving ourselves to the cause."

Perhaps we are so conscious of our identity because it is so fragile. Never mind the reasons; it is important to point out that, even if we know this problem will cease in time and with the development of these countries, it will only do so after solving this identity crisis (which is why you never hear anyone speak of the identity crisis of a Frenchman or Englishman). Today, nonetheless, for us this problem is very real and I do not think that we can create the right conditions for change by ignoring it or denying that it exists, which is what Brancusi was referring to when he spoke of a lasting art. Escape, as far as I'm concerned, neither can nor has produced anything but vaguely astute imitations of foreign works. Still, there is another way: Exile, the choice of a few Latin American artists who, in moving to a more developed society, have avoided the problem by assuming the identity and circumstances of the group in which they live and work. This problem concerns those of us who have consciously and willingly identified ourselves with the destinies of other groups of Americans. In this sense it is painful yet necessary to point out that, for example, in the area of painting, most Latin American art is more colonial, in the true sense of the word, than that produced in Cuzco during the 17th and 18th centuries. At least the natives and maestros of the era, although obliged to make modest copies of works imported by Spanish maestros, were able to transform their models, leaving, however secretly, their own mark to the point of creating an original view of the world. This, unfortunately, does not happen now. This paradoxical situation in which countries under Spanish or Portuguese rule nonetheless managed to produce an autonomous art, independent of that produced in the big cities - as proven by the art of colonial Cuzco, Mexican art and Brazilian baroque art -while, on the other hand, after political independence this art took a violently colonial turn and began clumsily and submissively to imitate European art, this paradox, I say, can help us understand the current state of artistic production in our countries. The only very doubtful progress made since the last century is that, thanks to modern means of communication, the latest fashions reach our shores sooner. I'd like to point out in passing that today, as always, there are individuals and groups dedicated to the perpetuation of this dependence, selling, not only to the unsuspecting public but especially to young artists, the idea that to "get ahead," to be successful (using this dangerous and often fallacious barometer), one must imitate everything done in the large foreign artistic Meccas, placing artistic creation on the same level with high fashion or hairdressing. Jean-Paul Sartre describes perfectly these colonial agents - cultural or political - when he says:

"Adolescents were chosen, their foreheads were branded with a burning iron, marked with the principles of Western culture, jingling gags were placed in their mouths, great pasty words that stuck to their teeth; after a short stay in the Metropolis, they were returned to their countries, falsified. These walking lies had nothing to say to their brothers, they were but echoes: from Paris, London, Amsterdam we shouted 'Parthenon!', 'Brotherhood!', and somewhere in Africa, Asia, lips parted: '...thenon!',,..hood!'. It was the Golden Age."

It is not at all a question of a program or a method. I foresee this cultural autonomy in Latin America happening as a result of a conscious awakening, not as the deliberate and conscious persecution of a few regional characteristics that - just like the original - are but visible signs a posteriori any real work of art, in a way a by-product of this art, and never a point of departure or motivation.

The conscious awareness of this 'identity crisis involves a deep commitment to both the current state of affairs in these countries, in all aspects, including the political and social, and to their fate, and also a fresh, non-academic relationship with the past. This is especially obvious in Mexico, Peru and, generally, the Andean countries that had pre-Hispanic cultures. The knowledge that, centuries ago in these same regions, in Paracas, in Chavín, on the Mexican plateau and in the jungles of Yucatán, beautiful and new solutions to the eternal problem of plastic expression were easily found, makes the search for our own language even more painful for many Latin Americans. But, I repeat, I am not proposing any program or method. Neither do I uphold the absurd idea that we should remain blind to what goes on elsewhere, idea that parallels another, unfortunately still quite popular in Latin America, that we should only pay attention to what is happening elsewhere. I believe we are under obligation to take advantage of the tools and conquests of man everywhere, using them to form our own answers, our own solutions, and only in this way will they prove valid and efficient. The opposite of universal is not only the provincial but also the cosmopolitan, which is perhaps nothing but the most subtle form of provincialism. And allow me to say here that when I speak of finding a language that is both our own and universal, I do not mean to imply that examples of this language do not already exist here in Latin America, even contemporary examples such as the work of César Vallejo, Pablo Neruda, Octavio Paz, Rufino Tamayo, Juan Rulfo, Jorge Luis Borges, Oscar Niemayer, Alejo Carpentier, Wilfredo Lam and José María Arguedas, to mention only a few.

I am, therefore, of the opinion that Latin American artists must become conscious of all these problems, of our aggressive geography and the dictatorship in Brazil, of electronic music and Quechua poetry, and then, as Rilke put it, forget everything in order to create, allowing time for these assimilated elements to come alive of their own accord, made flesh and blood. Perhaps then we will achieve the conditions necessary for creating authentic art.

I believe that our generation will see the culmination of this battle we are fighting. Latin America is presently involved in a true war of independence, economic and political independence, but also, inseparable from these, a war of cultural independence. It is a battle fought on all fronts. And I believe we must be, as Latin American artists, extremely conscious of the fact that our main goal lies in the area of artistic creation. We must contribute all our energy toward the social and economic transformation of our countries without forgetting that we are only irreplaceable in the realms of artistic creation and thought. It is undoubtedly in reference to this fact that Malraux stated how he loved one of the meanings of the word art: to make men conscious of their own undiscovered greatness. And Camus said: "All the great reformers attempt to build into history what Shakespeare, Cervantes, Moliere and Tolstoy have known how to create: a world always ready to satisfy the desire for liberty and dignity that lives in the heart of every man. Beauty, no doubt, does not make for revolution. But revolution needs beauty. its norm, which denies reality while accepting its unity, is that of rebellion. is it possible to eternally reject injustice while continuing to acknowledge man's nature and the beauty in the world? Our answer is: Yes!"

In these days of technicians and economists, over-whelmed by expressions like "earnings per capita," "standard of living," and others, it is easy to forget the meaning of real progress, exactly what is needed to better the standard of living of a group of human beings and, what is more Important, just what is meant by the expression "standard of living."

No wonder Paul Valery remarked that man needed one life to prepare himself and another to live, the terrible irony of the human condition being that, whether as individuals or a group, we must prepare ourselves and "be" simultaneously. And although it is obvious the first thing a nation must do is feed and clothe its people, it is clear that this is not enough; there is a spiritual dimension that must also be nurtured or the nation or group of individuals will cease to exist spiritually. Puerto Rico, for example, colonized spiritually and materially by the United States, would do well to acknowledge the skeptics and others not willing to so readily accept this type of reasoning.

According to Ortega, in order for a group to be recognized as such, it must have not only a past that passively defines it but also a valid historical projection able to inspire diverse dispositions and give unity and importance to individual effort. To reach our goal we must build for the present, supported by our past, and few nations can look back with as much confidence and pride as we can. I by no means propose a stale honoring of the past, but if we are speaking of integration, of a new culture and a new Latin American man, we must build both schools and museums so that our countries' masses have access to works of art produced in these same places by people who lived here centuries ago, fought and triumphed over the same hostile land, so that they find the strength and the greatness needed to discover the dimension and unity of our destiny.

Nothing, I believe, is more dangerous than the idea that the material needs of a nation must be satisfied first and that there is time in the future to take care of the others. A nation whose traditions, whose myths and history do not form part of its blood is destined to be absorbed spiritually and materially by others. Contrary to the example of Puerto Rico, we can cite that of Mexico, a country that has also suffered the same avalanche of North American tourists, the same neighbors and cultural pressures from the United States and that, nonetheless, has managed to maintain its own personality. If we consider the period in which we are living, with its enormous leaps in communications that, undoubtedly, will continue to reach an even wider section of our population, we find - as already apparent in our big cities -that subjected to the influence of television programs that are, and will be for a long time yet, imported, our children and adolescents are doomed to live in a world whose legends, heroes and myths are replaced with those of other nations. Therefore, instead of in time becoming more clearly defined, our identity will become progressively more blurry, vague and indeterminate. Consequently, I believe that anything we can do to help our nations in the search for -their own identity and to secure the foundations of their own personalities, pointing with pride and confidence to the fruits of our past and present ability to create, should be considered of prime importance and, more so, should not be postponed now when our historical conscious has been awakened, is ready and aware, but should be fostered and provided with the elements necessary for its enrichment and development.

No effective plan for renovation can be carried out without also renewing from the ground up the way we look at our present and our past, for this is also and very definitely the way we look at ourselves. We will have accomplished nothing if we continue to judge our work, past and present, with the tired and indifferent eye of the colonial sire contemplating aboriginal curiosities. Nothing will have changed if we continue to place underhanded pressure on our artists to convince us with their work that we are up-to-date with what is going on in Paris or New York; we will carry on indefinitely producing copies, imitations and uninhabited objects and books. On a continent like Latin America, each day more racially mixed with the arrival of so many from the countryside to our cities, I believe it is our responsibility as intellectuals to be the first to develop an inevitable and irrepressible awareness. It is a question of demonstrating whether we are for or against history.

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