II.2.9 DIGITAL ARCHIVE 740703
An Argentinean painter who is also widely regarded as a writer, art critic, and theorist, Luis Felipe Noé (born 1933) participated in this 1961 survey in which he provided opinions on the state of Latin American painting. His statements reveal some of the precepts of Otra Figuración (or Nueva Figuración, 1961–64), a group that he established that same year with Rómulo Macció, Jorge de la Vega, and Ernesto Deira in reaction to the abstract style popular during the previous decades. Furthermore, Noé’s reflections on art and society and chaos as the basis for art’s vital structure predate his seminal theoretical work Antiestética [(Buenos Aires: Editorial Van Riel, 1965)]. In Noe’s view, the reality of the continent is much more complex than the mere adding, mixing, or superposing of forces (i.e., traditions, trends, and schools) in order to reach a supposed mestizo art. Instead, he argues that Latin America can develop its own voice by synthesizing its two “inner forces”: the Eastern (the magical or intuitive) and the Western (the individualistic). The journal Hoy en la Cultura (Buenos Aires) included the survey in its inaugural edition [year 1, no. 1 (November 1, 1961), 14–15], also publishing responses by artists Carlos Alonso and Leónidas Gambartes.
1. Whenever people discuss Latin American painting, the Mexican muralists are inevitably mentioned. Do you think that that particular genre was limited to a specific moment in history, or that it is somehow still relevant today?
2. Do you think that relics of pre-Columbian culture, or those that are still part of Latin American folklore, are valid themes for the contemporary painter?
3. Avant-garde trends in contemporary art have unquestionably influenced Latin American painters. Is it reasonable to ask whether the application of those trends should be distinguished in some way that is relevant to the medium in which [the works] are produced?
(1) THE PREMISE SUGGESTED HERE WAS VALID FIFTEEN YEARS AGO. Today, however, Mexican mural art is a thing of the past. This genre gave its name to a particular period in the history of contemporary [Latin] American art; it was the first one, the phase during which we became aware that we existed in universal time, but also lived in a space with very specific geographical and human characteristics. It was a period when we came to grips with the enormous weight of our own expression and contemplated a totally uncharted future. It was also a phase in the history of universal contemporary painting that focused on nationalism and the political message.
What we gleaned from that period, as we became aware of our circumstances, is not only still valid, it also represents a perfectly natural process. Through his work, an artist communicates with his surroundings, either conversing with specific things or interacting with his environment as a whole. His surroundings are part of his sense of self, which he will naturally express in his work. But the [Latin] American artist’s world is more of a work in progress than a reality, so he must find order in the chaos of traditions and trends as a means of discovering his own identity. It is essential to grasp that universal value can only be found in whatever contributes something specific of its own to expanding our vision of the universe.
Mexican painting was an expression of [Latin] America’s adolescence; it was an essay on freedom. It reflected an attitude of violent, individual affirmation—especially in political and social matters—and a yearning for self discovery that insisted on cutting the umbilical cord that tied it to Europe. That is why it emphasized traditional folklore and social and political themes and relied on a narrative that focused on a peoples’ self-affirmation. The narrative told us that there is no cultural freedom without political freedom. It therefore concentrated on politics and the realities of indigenous people. Though this was perfectly understandable under the circumstances, it tended to marginalize this particular discourse from the evolution of worldwide expression.
The narrative described the life of an indigenous people who had a magnificent past but were now in rebellion. It did not communicate anything in particular to the rest of the world, other than its own particular angst. It was an ambitious form of painting that wanted to transmit the essence of Mexico, and therefore of what was American, to the world. That is why it was expressed as murals.
That kind of painting had its heyday, which coincided with the Surrealist period. It represented one particular aspect of the great adventure of contemporary man. But, whereas other expressions have helped to expand mankind’s vision of the world, Mexican painting did not accomplish that goal because it did not attempt to do so. Its main flaws were rooted in its thematic dogmatism, which limited the freedom of expression that any new voice requires; it also exhibited a degree of carelessness vis-à-vis its purely visual values, which are what give a painting its strength as a means of communication. All that notwithstanding, I cannot ignore the great contributions of the genre’s master artists, who have now fallen from grace, for their aesthetic zeal. That zeal, however, confused aesthetics with psychology of form, and could only be justified politically by its inability to understand art as an independent expression of the spirit. Some people are pro-Mexican murals; others are anti-Mexican murals—in my opinion, a true evaluation of the genre lies about halfway between one camp and the other.
We should also not forget that Mexican painting was a starting point for the painting of the Americas, as demonstrated by the fact that the greatest [Latin] American painter—who is undoubtedly [Rufino] Tamayo—is Mexican. That is, a man who experienced that genre and then went on to produce paintings that reflect that Mexican awareness by means of essential, permanent features, using a language of his own, which is valid for any [Latin] American country with roots that are similar to Mexico’s. In Tamayo’s wake came an abstract current that tended to capture the gist of the Americas by using its own rhythms. That trend produced the greatest painters in Latin America, who were not born in our country. Argentina, lacking a cultural tradition of her own and closely aligned with Europe, has not followed the same artistic path that was followed in other countries in the Americas. Suspended between two nostalgias, at a distance in two senses—far from Europe, and far from the Americas—Argentina has been developing her own identity based on this oscillation between two continents.
Argentina is ill at ease with the rest of the continent, so she sips from universal streams in search of her own voice, though she may not be aware of it. That is why she is more interested in what goes on in Europe than she is in her Latin American brothers’ quest for their own form of expression. As a result, though she produces art of considerable quality, it lacks energy and strength— which can only be siphoned from the artist’s personality—and is pursuing ever-greater refinement, a sign of weakness. That is also why Argentina is not interested in the trends toward abstraction throughout [Latin] America. It would appear that most Argentine painters who are unconcerned with thematic issues have deliberately ignored this question of an individual form of expression. They have consequently never been aware of the problem discussed here.
Changing the subject slightly—on a recent trip to Peru, I noticed that young painters there were not only interested in Americanist social painting but were turning their backs on Americanist abstract art and relying more on themselves than on archeological themes; that is, they were more interested in trends of greater freedom (Informalism and Action Painting) than in voluntary mental perceptions.
For all these reasons, I believe that the Mexican mural experience, as it was expressed in its time, cannot be sustained, and much less so in our country. . . . Now, it is understandable that painting in any country roiled by revolution will repeat the Mexican experience. It is happening in Cuba. Painting that talks about painting will not ignite any revolutions; but it is logical to expect that revolutions will sow the seeds of political painting, because the artist is the child of his environment and his time.
(2) [The murals] are interesting and should be studied because they can help us to understand many things; however, I think it is dangerous to use them as a basis for our work. We should remember that they express the cosmic vision of men whose culture was very different to ours. I think, therefore, that it is a mistake to use them to support the severing of ties with European art. If we do that, we simply exchange one dependency for another and create a dependency on the past. Many Latin American abstract artists choose not to imitate them but rather to learn from their elements, forms, and rhythms. The danger lies in allowing themselves to be fooled into producing decorative art by the presumed American content of the relics, since neither forms nor rhythms express the life or the cosmic vision of mankind.
We cannot, of course, say the same about Tamayo, who uses indigenous rhythms, forms, and colors to express man’s violent interaction with the universe. His was indeed an awakening of the Mexican spirit, though Tamayo’s work did not take the form of a narrative or a political statement, but instead reflected his own intensely personal experience.
(3) I believe this question has already been answered in the affirmative. However, we could take the question a step further. How can this objective be met once we have rejected anecdotal, political, or indigenous elements, and removed all archeological or folkloric influences? What might be used as a support for such work? This will only be achieved once the continent as a whole has fully matured. But we must become aware of the problem so that we might eventually find the answer. [Latin] America must start developing its voice now, as part of the process of creating its ultimate, total being. As with people, a country’s personality is largely defined by its willingness to be faithful to its various internal forces. The personality is therefore the result of interpreting those inner forces and of a willingness to develop experientially whatever is extracted by means of that cognitive act. That is why the continent must express its spirit by synthesizing its two inner forces: the intuitive and the magical—its Eastern influence—and the individualistic—its Western influence. This is what will give birth to our mestizo art; mestizo not just in the racial sense, but above all in the spiritual sense [of communion].
There was a time—when there were very few internal forces in the Americas and they were easily synthesized—when a mestizo art emerged in the Cuzco and Quito schools. The synthesis in progress today is different. But those two schools are an important precedent; more important to our painting today than the pre-Columbian cultures, though they are still virgin subjects. But it is not about creating mestizo painting. It is about Latin Americans becoming aware of that idea so that they might express themselves simply as men. If they can do that, they will produce a Latin American art.