III.3.2 DIGITAL ARCHIVE 747185
This text by Mexico City-based Guatemalan artist Carlos Mérida is a transcription of a speech he delivered in Chicago in March 1938 on the occasion of the establishment of the Union Artists Gallery. Mérida begins his political statement commending the efforts of U.S. artists because, as he assures them, the gallery’s space will be dedicated to exhibiting American art. Making an animated call to avoid what he considers to be the blind alley of Mexican muralism, Mérida publicly denounces the superficiality and demagoguery of the (“Big Three”) Mexican muralists and their apparent lack of aesthetic judgment. Instead, he highlights other painters such as José Chávez Morado, Pablo O’Higgins, Carlos Orozco Romero, and, especially, the printer Leopoldo Méndez. Mérida’s position was controversial at the time, and the artist returned consistently to the ideas that he first articulated when he wrote his treatises on Integración plástica. The transcription of Mérida’s speech was first published in Letras de México: Gaceta literaria y artística [(Mexico City), “Proemio o parte escrita de la plática dada por Carlos Mérida en Chicago en marzo de 1938,” no. 28 (June 1, 1938), 7, 10], on which this translation is based.
THE AFFECTION PROMPTED BY THE CLOSE AFFINITY between the work being done by artists in Mexico and that of our comrades in Chicago gives me the confidence necessary to speak these words. I bring you a message from my friends as well as my fondest wishes that the work we have in common may prove fertile and bear fruit as much for art as for the cause of human freedom and in our fight against fascism.
The effort that the members of the Union Artists Gallery have made in founding this cultural center inspires my admiration and leads me to express my best wishes for its prosperity. It is in places such as this, organized in such a worthy manner, that the future art of North America will cement its support, and like us, move step by step toward the conquest of the future despite an endless number of difficulties. It would be daring, even risky, to affirm that an art that reflects the life and the spirit of this great people already flourishes in North America: an expression that would be equivalent to that which exists in theater, architecture, and, in these most recent times, in music and in dance. Nevertheless, I can make out on the horizon the work that will be done [in this country], and I do not hesitate to affirm that, through a common effort like the one now being undertaken, the day is not far off that the United States will boast of a new artistic expression. And this will happen when painters delve a bit deeper into the soul of the people, when they base their work on their tradition and fundamental culture.
Now is the time to warn you that I am fearful that this effort will not crystallize soon, because a great number of North American artists at this moment are following—without the least judgment—one of Mexico’s worst experiments. Despite [this era’s] revolutionary pretenses, it resulted in nothing more than stagnation, an anti-revolutionary movement due to its fundamentally academic nature. I might as well say that I am referring to the interminable number of paintings that have been created in Mexico, with immediate utilitarian purposes, without any artistic sense at all, or even with demagogic ends [in mind.]
In order to understand Mexican painting, it is necessary to perform a modest analysis of its evolution. Our artistic production has passed through various stages that encompass not only our process, but the evolution of all artistic production. The most transitory period [occurred] when painting received its chief influence and subject matters from folklore. This was superficial painting, mere gloss, without transmutations that form new organisms. Directly after we had, for reasons connected to social movements [then occurring] in Mexico, another rational period that was preoccupied with telling graphic stories, without any artistic sense at all. [This period] produced only a few artworks of indisputable quality. These are the ones that reveal the authentic character of Mexican painting; those few works point out the paths that subsequent [artists] will either not see or will choose not to follow. I do not have to say which type of works I am referring to, but it does not hurt to recall a few beautiful fragments from Chapingo [School of Agriculture], at the Secretaria de Educación [Ministry of Education], and at the Escuela Preparatoria. Apart from these works, the rest of painting was immediately accessible, even though the artist should never lose sight of his intermediate position. Simple reproduction of what we see does make for art that will stand the test of time.
It is logical that we will be able to realize this intermediary art, when we approach the earth in the most intimate manner possible, [likewise] the people and their idiosyncrasies, which should be our idiosyncrasies, [will act] not as spectators but as authentic actors. Painting has an expressive medium, its plastic element—its material. This is the clay in which it manifests itself, in which it is rendered sensorial. Technique facilitates the tangible work, the process of creation; but it should never be considered as an end, but rather as a means. The plastic element, sublimated in the creator’s hands, constitutes a poetic language with no relation to the simple [works of] graphic tales that I mentioned before.
These two cycles in Mexican painting are in the past; the folkloric art, which was superficial and imitative; [and] the false revolutionary art, which was negative, utilitarian, and inexpressive. Today, in Mexico, the youth have taken advantage of the lessons and painful experiences of their elders. They now know that an artwork cannot be based on protracted and useless repetition. At the present moment, these same youth are creating the third cycle of the visual arts in Mexico. They are creating works that, although still imperfect, are nevertheless more vital, more revolutionary, and more expressive than any created by the legion of insipid illustrators.
In order for North American artists to create fertile and vital works, I believe it is necessary to re-create the elements of the environment and transmute the ethnic values and idiosyncrasies of the nation. They must have the capacity to see and express themselves differently, as [John] Graham says; they must not create art that is representative, but rather abstract, and they must take this word to mean the creation of a unique organism.
American artists will at last manifest their artistic expression when they reach a state that is both passionate and lyrical, and when they divest themselves of harmful influences, as in the case I mentioned previously. These influences are a danger to you all, my cherished friends, and I believe here we should take note of the multiplicity of faults and vices that exist, both ours and yours. In my travels through the United States, I have painfully observed the tendency of American painters—I am speaking of the youth, those who are creating the artistic consciousness of this great nation—, who constantly and insistently create graphic expressions that are for immediate use in much the same way that Mexican painters do. These thousands of canvases do nothing more than repeat exhaustively that which is of the least interest to the people, namely to see themselves mechanically represented exactly as they are. Would it not be more logical to give the people a more emotional, more passionate art that would unleash their very passions, their fears, their desires, their suffering, and their fatigue, instead of simple exterior pictures that represent what they are physically?
We need a sublimated art. We may take as an example the tragic and beautiful vault painted by Antonio Pujol in the [Abelardo L.] Rodriguez Market [in Mexico City], which without fear of seeming unjust, should be considered one of the most lyrical pieces in contemporary Mexican painting.
Now that I have cited some young personalities within the field of Mexican painting, and especially now that an exhibition featuring works by members of the LEAR [Liga de Escritores y Artistas Revolucionarios (League of Revolutionary Writers and Artists)] group is about to open, I would like to mention another great young artist, Alfredo Zalce. This painter, who is sensitive, delicate, and profound, derives his motivation from the people themselves. Even more, he lives those [motives], as he is the people; he transforms them until they become new artistic organisms of the highest poetic quality. No one can remain numb before Zalce’s work; his drawing is masterful, rhythmic, and devoid of angles, unfolding within an absolutely vivid space.
Another young master that I must speak of in the most laudatory terms is the admirable engraver Leopoldo Méndez. This artist, a militant among leftists and a pure socialist, has been able to elevate his subjects even to the point that they become elements secondary to the development of artistic values; as such, he is able to create a work that is wholly opposed to mere propaganda. His work is the most worthy expression of the pain, anxiety, and desire for liberation of the Mexican people. When one sees an engraving by Méndez, the cosmos is revealed. This artist is the authentic heir to another great son of the people: the engraver [José Guadalupe] Posada.
Among the other young artists that are on exhibit here, it is necessary to speak of Gonzalo Paz y Pérez and his emphasis on race; both harmonious and lyrical, he is master of a deeply emotional sensibility; [and we speak] of Pablo O’Higgins, [master of the] angular, dramatic, and hard; of [José] Chávez Morado, yet another talented engraver; of Everardo Ramírez, full of purpose, but still a bit constrained by the ballast of a story; and of Isidro Campos, who is bitter and sardonic. Could we discover in him some affinity with [George] Grosz? When this young artist realizes his potential, the drama that can already be seen in his work will radiate in an all-powerful manner.
The work of these young painters—full of expression and emotion—fantastically artistic and dramatic—is Mexican in its essence and manifestation despite being far removed from the representation [typical of] costumbrismo. In some of their works we feel, like in [José Clemente] Orozco’s work, a hint of tragedy—the daily tragedy of our earth.
Finally, I must mention Carlos Orozco Romero, a painter of great potential who is in full command of his [artistic] personality. Orozco Romero, who is Mexican in sentiment and universal in expression, possesses a fluid and sober style.