III.3.3 DIGITAL ARCHIVE 833512
Joaquín Torres-García delivered this lecture on September 5, 1941, after visiting an exhibition of North American painting at the Salón Nacional de Bellas Artes in Montevideo. He had lived in New York from 1920 to 1922, and consequently he considered himself to be free of prejudice in critiquing U.S. art. Torres-García invokes Walt Whitman’s desire for the spiritual unification of the entire continent. However, he notes that although the United States provides ample, material support for the production of art, the country does not foster the spiritual growth of its artists. Hence, in his view, the United States has not allowed its artists to accomplish two objectives fundamental to the development of American art: the discovery of the new American man and the invention of abstract forms that reflect his moral and intellectual character. Both of these objectives were key to Torres-García’s seminal theories on a new art for Latin America that he was developing via many of his lessons on universalismo constructivo (Constructive Universalism). This translation comes from the essay’s original publication as a brochure in 1942 [Joaquín Torres-García, Mi opinión sobre la exposición de artistas norteamericanos (contribución al problema del arte en América) (Montevideo: La Industria Gráfica Uruguaya), 5–19)].
ABOUT TWENTY YEARS AGO I WAS IN NEW YORK. I was there with my family, and lived like everyone else; that is, not as a tourist but as a resident, a neighbor. I was therefore in tune with the rhythm of the great city—sending the kids to school; looking for work; spending time with the friends we were making there; celebrating the national holidays; and, of course, painting. And, as one should, showing my work, going to museums and art galleries, and visiting other artists’ workshops. In this way I not only learned about local customs and the American way of life; I also became familiar with the art and the aspirations of American artists. I got to know a number of them, many of whom became my friends, and therefore missed none of what was being explored and created in the field of art. I mention all these details as background before going on to say that now, as I look at the works in this exhibition, I can see significant changes and, what’s more, undeniable progress compared to what I used to see in those earlier years. In other words, time has not been wasted there, and these artists have put the last twenty years to good use. Now, therefore, having seen what this show has to offer, if we wished to define where exactly this progress is apparent, what should we point out among all the works on display? . . .
Every country is judged; every nation is slandered. This habit tends to be disregarded but, if it were scrutinized a little more closely, it would be obvious that superficial conclusions of this nature breed misconceptions that then lead to far more serious problems. There is genuine prejudice out there concerning countries, ways of life, and national traits. These falsehoods stand in our way and prevent us from knowing the true facts. Thus it is with North Americans, whose artistic skills are classified in terms that are very far from the truth. More than one visitor to this exhibition surely arrived with a preconceived idea in mind and, after struggling with their prejudice, found certain values here that left them, perhaps, feeling somewhat confused and disoriented. . . .
There are obviously excellent, mediocre, and atrocious works in this exhibition. The collection includes some unforgiveable flaws, and it is certainly a great pity that the selection process did not insist on a higher standard. Who benefits from such carelessness…? . . . Well now, it seems to me that those who assembled this particular selection of works were not simply trying to show us the best, but also wanted to give us a broader view of all facets of North American painting. We can thus see a wide range of contemporary art produced by our friends to the north, which we could not have done if only the best examples of their work had been shown here.
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Let me say a couple of words about the native current. Let us forget about what the Indians—in their precarious position of slavery and persecution—managed to create, and let us instead look at what the whites or the mestizos did, standing on the shoulders of the aboriginals. What did they do? They did something bad; they made a real “pastiche.” Ignoring the fact that the Indians see everything as a sacred part of life, they helped themselves to Indian morphology and blended it with European decorative art. The result was a false geometric art, with no support—and therefore empty—lacking any harmonic order, profane, and ridiculously Native American. The worst thing is that there were no exceptions.
These are the two main currents that have influenced art in the Americas. But there is another one, derived from regional folklore that may be the most genuine of all, the true Criollo art. This latter current is the only one that could be called a local expression. This is the only kind of art that truly belongs to us, whether it is from the north or the south. It is the art created by the grandchildren of the invader who merged with the Indian to produce a sui generis type of society and man: the criollo, the new race in the Americas.
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This, then, is what we have to show Europe. This is what we can say is truly ours. It is the logical result of all that has happened in the New World. But this kind of art—with apologies to nativists—has no roots. Because if it is primary, it is not primitive. It did not sprout from a seed; it has no specific value; it is the child of adventure and chance; an improvisation taking place on the fringes of the colony. It grew up twisted and unrefined, superficial and aggressively uneducated. . . .
At the recent exhibition of paintings and prints—sponsored by North Americans and made possible by their good neighbor policy—we saw a parade of paintings from all over the Americas. We saw how each country drew the raw material for their art from both their own lands and from Europe. We saw a varied range of expressions, of authors and of European trends according to the latitude in each region that reflected a diversity of attitudes and sensibilities. We also saw each country’s interpretation of its native conditions. In other words, how the criollo—whether Latino or Anglo-Saxon—interpreted primitive American art and European art.
It was a most interesting, thought-provoking parade. First of all, and for example: What unity could be discerned here that might encourage us to dream of an art of our own, that is racially different from Old World art, that we all hope will be created? There is nothing there that augurs well for that dream. On the other hand, an attentive observer would or could have noted something else, something very similar, though interesting in another context: the characteristics of an ethnic lifestyle seen through a blend of European and local art; always created by the Criollo. This was criollismo at a higher level, seeming timid and apparently wanting to skip an evolutionary phase, going beyond its earliest expression. Then there was a return to its original colonial roots in an attempt to regain stature, but once again with allegiance to Europe. Then back to culture, abandoning the rustic phase, but with a significant loss of racial identity. In other words, back to Europe.
That is what we saw at this exhibition of paintings from North, Central, and South America. Poor imitation and parody; an attempt at something known to be foreign; a desire to emulate an old culture, European culture, because without that support there was nothing but a void. . . . So that if, within that artificiality and illusion there was a desire to get closer to reality, it was expressed through themes—traditional subjects, the black and indigenous experience, the gaucho, the Far West idea, patriotism. And, as we know, the theme is not the essential part of any serious art; it is merely a pretext for art to express itself. This is why we do not yet have an art that we can call our own; and by that I mean our palette, our style, our way of understanding composition, our perception of reality—where we find our own concept of the visual arts. . . . Concrete elements that I would call abstract since they are not imitative. New tones and rhythms; artistic events arranged in a new order; the order that arises from another light, another life, another mind, and even from other materials; all of which respond to other aesthetic, religious, or social needs. It seems logical that none of this can yet be seen, because it could not exist without a culture. And something with a basic unity should be understood as such. . . .
. . .
As we looked at the works exhibited by North American artists we saw, just as we see among our own painters and sculptors, that more than one of them, in an attempt to escape from insipid art, has been watching modern trends in Europe. Using that influence as a starting point they have then, to a greater or lesser degree, interpreted it in their own particular way. One example is the painting of the Old Master [Maurice] Prendergast, who has created his own version of Impressionism by following in the steps of [John Singer] Sargent and [James Abbott McNeill] Whistler, who found inspiration in the Spanish Masters. There is a palpable need to move beyond a level of production that has no style or visual art support. As we reviewed the whole range of North American art at the exhibition, we saw countless attempts along those very lines, which contributed to the first-rate quality and technical consistency of the collected works. For all these reasons, this exhibition, this reflection of life in that extraordinary country, can be described as good. It should be visited and studied. And this is not, by any means, empty praise.
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These artists appear to have found what they were looking for in Surrealism, which they express in their own unique way that, thanks to the technique I mentioned earlier, results in very high-quality work. Despite the fresh vision and new structure, these works have a lasting quality and a sense of achievement that would not be out of place in any museum. There is a faint suggestion of Dutch painting—though without a hint of imitation—possibly due to racial atavism and a certain inexorability. Something that already has a hierarchy. And then, right beside that swath of modern expression, there is another group of works that look even more American and again show impeccable technique—views of industrial scenes; factories and equipment, all expertly painted. This is new, this depiction of real life. There are also industrial scenes in rural settings where North American artists have not managed to find an appropriate form of visual expression. . . . All of this is as yet unconcerned with transcendental questions about art in the universal sense and in terms of a search for a larger structure. In a word, it still lacks classical aspects, that is, eternal values.
Modern North American artists were trained in modern styles or schools and then created their own versions of what they learned by painting scenes depicting their local environments. And here I would say: Good work, boys! You are creating your own artistic America and because you are bold enough to have faced modern styles and not failed in your attempt to express yourselves! This is amply demonstrated in this exhibition. On a personal note, as an old artist and also perhaps as an official art instructor, I think I speak for everyone when I say that I believe I can be grateful for this art festival provided for us by the efforts of these North American artists.
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There are many works that will make us pause to inspect them, all well executed. Our silence will condemn the rest, barring any involuntary omissions. One good work, for example, is The Reflector by Gifford Beal, whose firm line is well defined. There is an even better one by [William] Glackens, a work that is worthy of a Master, which strikes me as the best in the show. Levine’s fine effort should be acknowledged; as should Prendergast’s watercolors, which are remarkable for their consistency. There is a magnificent watercolor by Cikousky [sic], and compositions by [George] Grosz. We saw a skillful watercolor by [Edward] Hopper, and another by [Kenneth Hayes] Miller that is even better because it is more of a painting. We should not forget [Paul] Sample’s work, which has such a North American theme; or Schreiber’s theater; or the equally well-crafted work by [Jacob] Getlar Schmith [sic, Smith]—or a few other, similar pieces that I don’t remember. The only Cubist work in the show was the Chinese Restaurant by Max Weber, which was also good because of its intrinsic value. As we move on to something else, let us not forget John Kane’s good, primitive work.
As I said earlier, the exhibition included a considerable number of Surrealist works, so there are many to mention. The Drought, by [Alexander] Hogue, is undoubtedly one of the best, though it is quite literary. Another one that turns heads—not literary in the usual sense, but frankly Surrealist—is Fletcher Martin’s Tomorrow and Tomorrow. There are also some very expressive landscapes, such as [Charles] Burchfield; and [Samuel] Coleman’s, on an unusual street; and a work by [Francis] Criss, which is no less surprising. A small canvas by [Arshile] Gorky, with solid, abstract planes reminiscent of [Joan] Miró, is brilliant and well balanced. In a different genre, seemingly trying to avoid Surrealism and thereby suggesting a new vision that is more in tune with North America, there were some scenes of factories and other similar environments, as in [Edmund] Lewandowski’s Industrial Composition; [Charles] Demuth’s My Egypt; a good, very objective landscape by [Charles] Sheeler; another by [Robert] Spencer, and, of course, Campbell’s composition; another urban landscape by Burchfield, and so on. But I have nothing to say about the rooster’s wife and the such-and-such.
This is a very incomplete list; I know I am forgetting many works, and I am sorry I don’t remember them. It would have been better to write this review while I was looking at the paintings, which also might have helped me do a better job of pronouncing the artist’s names in English. But now, may I be allowed to lower the tone a little and use a very unrefined word to refer to this exhibition? I’d like to use Uruguayan slang to describe this exhibition as truly “macanuda” [“fab”]. . . . Those of us who live in this vast hemisphere that is the New World consider ourselves to be a well-defined race, the great criolla family of both Latin and Anglo-Saxon heritage, as I said. Yes, a new race, from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego; a sui generis race, as mentioned earlier, but—let us be clear—a race that has nothing to do with being mestizo. Just as Old World nations have forfeited any claim they may once have had on us, so too must native people. But we would then hasten to say that indigenous people should live as equals among the other children of the Americas. And then, why not the blacks as well?
Assuming that all this is settled and no longer bears discussion, the next question is: what kind of art can and should this new race produce? Whatever does not address that primordial question is of lesser importance and therefore no longer holds any interest for us. I don’t think North American artists believe they have developed an art of their own, any more than we do, and therefore are even less involved in the great future art of the continent. And if there were indeed a slight movement in that direction—more a desire than a fact—it is not strong enough for either of us to base our hopes on. It is premature to say anything about any country in the Americas because we must not confuse what might be shaded by nuance—which can be inspired by the things that surround the artist and even by the art that he feels obliged to practice due to local pressure—with something fundamental that could lead to a new structure. That is, to something internal, to something constructive, rather than visions, aspects, and themes, no matter how original they may be. This root must be found because it is the start of a new culture which is, in turn, the basis for the new structure, the foundation and the key to the new art of the Americas.
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Those who are informed, who have survived the disappointments and fallacies of demagogues, believe that change rises from below, from the material plane—or, to put it another way, from the financial realm. Force dominates the world and that is the reality. I am among those who believe that the opposition’s struggle is the root of life. That is how the universe is structured. A materialist civilization is the result. But the world is still also ruled by ideas, which means two parallel civilizations coexisting simultaneously.
What can we conclude from all this?
If statesmen can organize their nations and themselves, why not do the same thing with artists, philosophers, musicians, and men of letters? After that, why not lay the foundations for a new, genuine culture whose essential tenet is that a new version of mankind exists in the Americas? With regard to the symbol and the figure of this new man, why not start with an abstract idea that is capable of inspiring widespread unity? A balance could be achieved by considering the material and financial world as well as the world of art and ideas. And vice versa.
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We have always seen that times of material prosperity coincide with the greatest flowerings of the arts. The artist therefore must be supported, and we should applaud the Roosevelt Plan that—according to Mrs. Caroline Durieux [who organized the exhibition]—wisely chose not to forget such an interesting, vital part of any nation: the soul, the essence of its spiritual being, whose subsequent expression will reveal the culture of the people.
. . .
The North Americans have a huge poet: Walt Whitman, who seems like a model for the future man of the Americas. He refers to himself as a “cosmos.” What does that mean? It means that a universal man can rise above American Man’s psychological framework. And that, gentlemen, is what every intellectual in the Americas should be working toward if they want to help to define the standards for our new society. Practical men will build a solid, material foundation upon which the other, subsequent domain of the spirit can be raised. As a Universalist, Whitman senses that other world. And in fact he insists on a new social, religious, and artistic structure. People can say what they like, but his vast perspective is unlike anything that any age has ever proposed. So, was he a prophet? With no hesitation, I say that he was.
Well, then, there he is. He can help us see that a true culture has to have a basis; it must have its own complete order, with roots; a world system; an overall metaphysical entity, for without it there will be no culture or unity of spirit on our continent. . . . Under the sign of the great Walt Whitman—whose work should be our bible—let us work toward the spiritual unification of the Americas. Let us join forces with those in other countries who work tirelessly toward the same goal.