The timeless charm of a first is in the concept’s seamless evocation of nostalgia and its fundamental, chronological urgency to be continued in the future. The firsts are the foundation of history and templates for the future. Nick Trend, a journalist and art historian, speaks with STIR about the release of his book, Art Firsts, which is a whimsical approach to writing the history of art.

Art Firsts remarks that art’s narrative is more than just scholarly debates and chronicles of imperative art movements. Trend works as the Head of Culture for the Daily Telegraph’s travel desk; he has spent almost 30 years penning about the world’s artistic gems and has crafted guides for many prestigious museums and art collections. His experience extends to the curatorial team at London’s National Gallery. Trend tells STIR, “My fundamental aim in writing the book was to appeal to a wide audience. I suppose I am a chronological nerd, so instinctively, I like to arrange things in that way. But I am also a journalist, so I know you have to keep your audience engaged and entertained. I thought that theming the chapters into headings such as Pleasures, Anguish, Ideas and Concepts would help bring the history to life and avoid suffocating it with dates.”

What Trend does with this publication is, provide a consorted approach that bridges the discourse of art history and the history of art. The two terms are often used interchangeably; however, there are subtle structural differences between the two. For instance, art history traditionally builds on visual comprehension of aesthetic qualities, mediums, and stylistic evolution within primarily European art. By being predominantly Eurocentric, the discourse of art history undermines the universality of art, leading to misrepresentation of global artistic contributions and perpetuation of the stereotype of cultural superiority. To transcend this limitation of art history, the history of art adopts a more holistic lens, incorporating socio-political contexts, cross-cultural interactions, and global influences, promising a more inclusive and expansive perspective. In the book Art Firsts, Trend observes the discourse of art history through the kaleidoscope of history of art.

Trend tells STIR, “I don’t offer specific or detailed critiques of the teaching and writing of art history in the text, though I do have views and I think there is room for fresh approaches, hence, the concept behind this book. Art history can be a very niche subject. In order to flourish, we need to find that wider audience.”

The book opens with sections on pleasure and anguish. The former consists of the first loving kiss, which also explores the first homosexual kiss in Western art history; the first joke, which amplifies the artistic skill and thrill to employ trompe l oeil (trick of the eye), with a fly painted on the frame of the painting Portrait of a Carthusian Monk (1446), by Petrus Christus (1410–1475). Trend refers to the same as a medieval meme.

The first smile, via Portrait of a Young Man by Antonello da Messina (c 1470) traces the comprehension of expressions in art since portraits ascribed to aristocracy were about posing unapproachability to evoke a sense of distinction. This also confirms why the Mona Lisa, famous for the smile, is unprecedentedly revered in the canon of art history. The latter chapter captures sentiments of anguish expressed through works that pioneered the emotions of a first jealous lover, first nightmare, and first scream.

Amidst this is also the first marital breakdown depicted by William Hogarth’s Marriage a la Mode (1743-45)—a visual satire of marriage of convenience, Hogarth’s sociological marketing tactic to foster sales by visually narrating the life of aristocracy beyond what meets the eye. Opening the book with relatable, universal, and undeniable sentiments dissolves the classification of Western art and inspires a new perception of art history grounded in the human spectrum of feelings.

The following sections of the book feature art history’s style and technique debuts. For instance, the first application of lighting effect, the first painting in true perspective, the first visible brushstrokes, and the first depiction of distorted bodies in canonical art history. Further ensuing into Ideas and Concepts, with sub-section of first mirror image, first anti-war painting, first feminist painting, and more, amongst which is also the first abstract painting; this brings to light The Ten Largest, No. 8, Adulthood by Hilma Af Klint, the Swedish painter who rose to claim the title of first European abstract painter, popularly unrecognised, due to having imposed a condition in her will—to not expose her artworks till 20 years of her passing. This is a microcosm of the conviction that history constantly reveals itself and should invite a fluid approach to assimilate facts and patterns. There are also sections in Trend’s book on pioneering portraits and debuts of reality and everyday life in the western art history canon.

Each section in Art Firsts takes us back, like the act of glancing at old photos does, facilitating reminiscence of a time we could not have known or remembered, yet we are able to experience its zeitgeist. This may remind us of the rationale for the origin of art history. In conversation with STIR, Trend addresses the discontents of art history, which are beyond the critique, writing, and teaching of the discourse.

Sakhi Sobti: What is the role of art history as a discourse?

Nick Trend: That is a big question! I suppose, personally, the reason I am drawn to art is that it makes its meanings through images and objects rather than words. As such, it helps us think, understand, and communicate non-verbally—a reminder that feelings and insights do not necessarily have to be explained rationally. Like music and poetry, the visual arts are also powerful agents for stimulating emotional and irrational responses and their role is not to try to limit meaning, but to embody and express complexity. In short, life is full of contradictions which explanatory language struggles to grapple with, but which artists relish.

Sakhi: Can you reiterate some lapses in how western art history is taught and discussed for our global audience?

Nick: The key lapse in the teaching of art history for me is not about approach but the fact that it is simply not taught enough. The subject as a whole and the fundamental intellectual tool which it relies upon—the visual analysis of art works and images—are not, as far as I know, part of mainstream education anywhere in the world. Your point about a global audience might imply a western bias in the book and I would certainly have to acknowledge that. I know about western art, so I have to work with what I know. I certainly think there might be an interesting book to be written on “firsts” in Chinese art or Indian art —or even try to encompass the whole of world art, though it would be a gargantuan task to put it together.

Sakhi: Do you see the discourse deviating from a Eurocentric narrative to a multiculturally inclusive one? If so, what can art historians do for the same?

Nick: I studied at the University of East Anglia in England which pioneered the concept of “world” art history and partly integrated it with anthropological studies. I’m not sure that “deviate” is a good word, but I think the general drift of art history has already shifted in this more multicultural direction. This is especially helpful when trying to grapple with those issues around post-colonialism and cultural appropriation. Art historians can do a lot to contribute and give context to this debate; a context which can be quite complicated since the absorption of influences and techniques from other cultures has always been the lifeblood of artistic renewal. Western and European artists have a long history of responding to art from Asia and Africa, for example, and let’s not forget, the process has been a reciprocal one.  

Sakhi: What are your thoughts on the classification of art into modern, contemporary, and post-modern?

Nick: I use such labels as little as possible in this book because I’m not sure they are always helpful. I think more generally that these sorts of classifications have probably become too rigid and entrenched, and that we should certainly challenge them. But I’m sure too, that the boundaries will shift naturally as new classifications will be added, and others will, perhaps, fall out of use.

Sakhi: How, if at all, does Art Firsts add to the naturalised narrative that art developments progressed linearly?

Nick: Progress is a problematic word, and much also depends on what you mean by “linearly”. Can you go round in circles and yet still evolve? I think you probably can, and I think that may be a good way of thinking about the way art changes and renews. Obviously, the title of the book, Art Firsts, might suggest otherwise, but I regularly emphasise that the moments of innovation which I focus on do not come totally out of the blue. They always reflect societal change or new geographical or cultural influences, and they may circle back to the art of the ancient world. Even if some of my “firsts” may be re-introductions from ancient precedent, I still think that it is fascinating to consider why, for example, there were no erotic nudes, smiling faces or formal perspectival compositions in western art for hundreds of years. And—just as importantly—what happened when these were suddenly re-introduced and how do they affect artists today.

Sakhi: What do you see as the relevance of art history in our contemporary world?

Nick: This is a major political moment for the visual arts. In a politically fractured and post-colonial world, we are seeing attacks on art works to highlight environmental protests, a new and vigorous debate around the cancellation of predatory and misogynistic artists, historic issues like slavery have suddenly come to the fore and there is significant international tension around the restitution of artefacts. The pressure of mass tourism is also an issue for some museums, sites, and institutions. So, art history is more relevant than ever. And finally, it’s worth remembering that the practice of art history is also fundamentally about looking and noticing. These are vital and rewarding skills generally, especially when virtual reality, artificial intelligence and digital manipulation is fast eroding our ability to trust images.

Following a full day of fun in the sun at the inaugural Upper Fort StreetFest, the Downtown Victoria Business Association is back with event No. 2 – this time at historic Market Square!

Bringing the same sense of wonder and whimsy for all ages, this free, family-friendly event will fill Market Square with music, entertainment, activities and more, not to mention the opportunity to explore one of the city’s most iconic neighbourhoods, says Becca Blachut, DVBA Marketing Manager.

“We had so much positive feedback from the businesses and guests at StreetFest, we can’t wait to do it again at Market SquareFest!” Blachut says.

Hosted in the Square – at Store Street, between Pandora and Johnston streets – Market SquareFest will engage visitors with all sorts of free activities and entertainment.

“It’s going to be a super-engaging, family-friendly event, and a great way to explore this unique downtown neighbourhood. In addition to the planned activities, there are so many amazing downtown shops and restaurants to check out, too,” Blachut says.

“And it’s a great jumping-off point – from there you can go just about anywhere as you explore downtown.”

Here’s a look at what’s on offer Saturday, July 22 at Market SquareFest:

• Relax with a refreshment at Whistle Buoy Brewing, right in the heart of the Square.
• Enjoy hot dogs from the Missing Link and check out some of the many food vendors in the Square
• Enjoy all-day entertainment from local musicians
• Take home a keepsake from Four Frames Photo Booth
• Explore the local makers’ market, then get creative with multiple art activities, including a big community art project
• Enjoy lots of FREE family-friendly activities, including face painting, balloon twisting, Donald Dunphy’s Magic Show and Drag StoryTime.
• Get your groove on at the silent disco

Helping make Market SquareFest possible are sponsors including Victoria Downtown Residents Association, Robbin’s Parking and Sunbelt Rentals.

Learn more and stay up to date with all the downtown events at downtownvictoria.ca or follow them on Facebook and Instagram!

Texas is known to be a place rife with political arguments and controversy. As the second most populous state in the country, behind California, it’s natural that there would be a range of viewpoints, often leading to a polarized public. So, it’s nice when we’re able to take a break from those issues to focus on things that there’s more agreement over, like the pleasure of Texas art and music.

For many years, the state has appointed poet laureates, state musicians and state artists. It’s a process that happens every two years as part of the otherwise often blustery legislative session.

Gary Gibbs, executive director for the Texas Commission on the Arts, spoke with the Texas Standard about the history of Texas recognizing state artists and how his agency is involved in the process. Listen to the story above or read the transcript below.

This transcript has been edited lightly for clarity:

Gary Gibbs: The state has recognized poet laureates for many, many years. And the way that worked was like a legislator would have a favorite poet in his community and write a resolution and boom, it happened. So, about 20 years ago, I guess it was now, they standardized the process for electing not only a poet laureate, but a state musician and a state artist in both 2D and 3D. And so that is in statute, and our agency, the Texas Commission on the Arts, is required to facilitate that process every two years.

Texas Standard: You mentioned the different categories now. It looked like it started about in the 1930s, as you said, with the poet laureates and then the musician may have been the last one added. Now we’re at 2D and 3D artists. Does that feel like the right number to you?

Well, in this particular session that just ended, a bill was passed that will add a new category. And so it’s going to add a classical musician category. So we’ll have two categories for musicians: one for classical traditions and one for non-classical traditions. And the reasoning behind that is, as you can imagine, it’s difficult for a classical pianist in Texas, who’s internationally known, to compete with Willie Nelson, just because of the recognition of those different artists.

So talk to me about the process. You mentioned this was standardized in the last 20 years. How do people become nominees for these designations? 

Anyone in the state can nominate someone. You can self-nominate yourself if you’re an artist that feel like you’ve reached that level of distinction. And then we take those lists of nominees, all of them, to a committee of experts in each discipline. And they whittled that big list down to no more than 10 in each category.

And then there’s a committee called the State Artist Selection Committee that’s appointed by the governor, the lieutenant governor and the speaker of the House. And these are primarily laypeople, not experts. They look at those list of 10, and from those 10, they recommend who the state artists should be.

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So what sorts of considerations does the committee take into account? 

They take into account how the artist reflects Texas culture, the level of success that the artist has had, awards that they’ve been given and then also just their own – this is what I like so much about this process, is it’s not arts experts deciding who the state artists are; it’s members of the public, it’s the citizenry that’s deciding – so a lot of it has to do with just which artist appeals to that particular person that’s serving on the committee.

So we’ve been burying the lead a bit here. Can you tell me about the designees for 2023? 

I can, yeah:

– The state musician is from Austin, and it’s Gary Clark Jr.

– The state poet laureate for 2023 is also from Austin, ire’ne lara silva.

– The state visual artist 2D is from San Elizario, which is on the outskirts of El Paso; his name is Gaspar Enriquez.

– And the state 3D artist is from Lubbock. He’s a ceramicist; his name is James Watkins.

So Texas Standard’s plan is to highlight the work of each of these artists over the next month and then do the same thing in 2024. Why do you think it’s valuable to keep naming state artists?

The arts represent all of the best of what Texas has to offer. And these are talented artists who have had great careers. And this recognition allows the general public to know that the arts contribute not only to our quality of life in the state, but also to the economic vitality that state has, because the arts and culture are big business for this state.

Now these folks don’t get a big chunk of money from Texas or anything like that; it really is a bit of a symbolic designation. Is that right? 

That’s correct. The statute prohibits any kind of remuneration for the position, so it’s an honorary title. They can use it in marketing their work. We also have something called the Texas Touring Roster where artists can be brought into a community for performances and will help pay part of that artist fee and they can be added to the Texas Touring roster if they wish.

What else? Was there anything else that you would like people to know about either this process or just what you guys do in general over there?

Yeah. I would hope that the public recognizes the importance of this program, but also the fact that the state of Texas has an arts agency fully devoted to promoting arts and culture in the state of Texas and that it’s what makes Texas a great place to live and work.

In Chorzów, Poland, a vibrant, multi-use public park highlights the possibilities of play. Designed by architecture firm SLAS, “Activity Zone” perforates a large concrete expanse with myriad shapes and structures, each with its own function. Playground and fitness equipment intersperse between tidy ball courts, seating, and green areas, including a number of large existing trees. To emphasize accessibility, the studio chose concrete as a primary material to ease navigation for wheelchair users and those with limited mobility.

“Activity Zone” comprises the first phase of an integration initiative between the University of Silesia and the city of Chorzów, redeveloping a former military site into a more welcoming space while building connections between the academic and local communities. Find more work by SLAS on Facebook. (via Kottke)

Do stories and artists like this matter to you? Become a Colossal Member today and support independent arts publishing for as little as $5 per month. The article Get In the Activity Zone: Playfulness Abounds in a Multifunctional Park in Poland by SLAS Architects appeared first on Colossal.

It turns out that watching people yell as loud as they’re able to is almost as cathartic for the viewer as it is for the screamer. The Cut recently filmed 100 folks as they shout with all their might, capturing an array of emotions as they let it all out. Jumping, laughing, and heavy sighs of relief ensue, along with insights into many of their lives and stressors, in what might be the most relatable video on the internet at the moment.

You also might enjoy this film documenting people as they contemplate a ten-meter dive and the work of Bob Ross’s screaming counterpart.

Do stories and artists like this matter to you? Become a Colossal Member today and support independent arts publishing for as little as $5 per month. The article AHHHHHH: Enjoy the Relatable Catharsis of Watching 100 People Scream As Loud As They Can appeared first on Colossal.

The Corn Hill Arts Festival will bring nearly 400 artists to the city of Rochester this weekend, marking the festival’s 55^th year.

Spread across nine historic streets in the Corn Hill neighborhood, the festival, led by the Corn Hill Neighbors Association, will feature an array of handcrafted items, from pottery and sketches to photography and jewelry. Food, music, beer and wine gardens are also in the cards.

“Our neighborhood takes pride in celebrating the arts in our community, from fine arts to performing arts,” says Robin Plummer, chair of this year’s festival. “We enjoy showcasing what Rochester has to offer.”

Thousands of visitors are expected to tour the festival, which is sponsored by ESL Federal Credit Union.

“We’re excited to once again be the presenting sponsor for the Corn Hill Arts Festival celebrating the 55th annual festival,” says Celeste Kier, executive vice president/director, marketing and customer experience at ESL Federal Credit Union. “Each year, the Corn Hill Neighbors Association and their volunteers prepare an extraordinary celebration of the arts, music, and Greater Rochester community.” 

Last month, the association unveiled the festival’s commemorative poster. Designed by Brian O’Neill, a Corn Hill resident, the poster will be featured on festival merchandise. O’Neill is known for his work in bold abstract painting and realism.

“We have a great music lineup again this year and we have added several new surprises, 585 Corn Hole will be with us on Saturday coordinating a tournament,” Plummer says. “We have worked closely with Fort Hill Performing Arts Theatre this year to elevate our ROC the Arts Exhibit, which highlights local performance art. ROC City Circus will join us again this year. So much fun in such a beautiful neighborhood!”

The first annual Corn Hole Tournament is presented by Tin Cup Social and organized by 585 Cornhole. In addition, here are some events that are making a comeback:

■ The 13th Emerging Artist Expo, which focuses on up-and-coming artists, and is presented by MVP Health Care.

■ The second ROC the Arts at Corn Hill, supported by Henrietta Restaurant Supply, which highlights performers from various performing arts groups in Rochester and the Finger Lakes.

■ Fairy Houses, a family favorite, presented by Roc Star Realtors of Howard Hanna and supported by KidsOutAndAbout and the Strong National Museum of Play.

■ The second Corn Hill 5K, a morning run along the Genesee Riverway Trail, presented by Fleet Feet.

Profits generated by the festival are poured back into the neighborhood, officials say. The event creates opportunities for community members, whether it involves building upkeep or scholarships.

Smriti Jacob is Rochester Beacon managing editor. The Beacon welcomes comments and letters from readers who adhere to our comment policy including use of their full, real name. Submissions to the Letters page should be sent to [email protected]. 

There’s a huge cognitive dissonance – if one so common it flies by unremarked – in the clamour of marketing around the Art Gallery of South Australia’s (AGSA) winter exhibition, Frida & Diego: Love & Revolution. Is there anything more romantic, it whispers breathlessly as it guides you towards the gallery shop, than the confluence of art, love and revolution?

It’s hard not to feel Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, the two drawcards for this fascinating glimpse of Mexican Modernism, might be repulsed. Or perhaps – artists that they were, familiar with the realities of scraping a living in the brutal machinery of capitalism – they might nod in resignation. Perhaps, they might say, this is the price of being seen. Perhaps the art remains, impudently shining through its reductive context: beautiful, radical, alive to the last.

The artist’s struggle to exist is, after all, a constant from the Renaissance on. Although art can accumulate huge capital value – in 2021 a Kahlo painting sold for $US34.9 million – artists most often work in unromantic poverty. One of the final images in the handsome AGSA catalogue is of a letter from Kahlo to her patron, Natasha Gelman, asking for payment for a “little picture”. “I am very short of cash and today I have to pay bills and other things … Forgive me and I don’t know what you think of me, as I am a presumptuous disrespectful person, but if it wasn’t because I really need it, I swear that I would not be bothering you…”

This collection of more than 150 works of Mexican Modernism – the largest seen in Australia – was assembled by Natasha and her husband, Jacques Gelman, a film producer, after they settled in Mexico in the 1930s. It’s one of three significant collections they owned – they were patrons of considerable taste and bought a constellation of artists who later became global stars. But the art market was probably the least of the contradictions within which these artists lived and worked. For them, both love and revolution were painful and exhilarating realities.

The Mexican Revolution lasted officially from 1910 to ’20 and was long, violent and chaotic, costing an estimated 900,000 lives. When the poet Vladimir Mayakovsky, the self-described “plenipotentiary of Soviet poetry”, visited Mexico in 1925, he found its politics “eccentric”, with each new presidential investiture “accompanied by the gun”. He noted everyone from the age of 15 to 75 had a Colt. “A revolutionary,” he wrote, “is anyone who, weapon in hand, may overthrow the reigning authority – indifferent to whom the reigning authority may be. And since, in Mexico, everyone has either overthrown or is overthrowing, or wants to overthrow the current regime – they are all revolutionaries.”

Mayakovsky was met at the station in Mexico City by Rivera. (Teasingly, he never met Kahlo, as Rivera was still married to his second wife, the novelist Guadalupe Marín.) Mayakovsky’s observations of Mexican art remain pertinent: he noted its Indigenous roots – “an outgrowth from the ancient, variegated, primitive, folkloric Indian art” – as an expression of the struggle against colonial slavery, and also the contemporary desire to marry these traditions with European Modernist painting.

At that stage Rivera, along with José Clemente Orozco and David Alfaro Siqueiros, was one of the “three greats” commissioned by the government to create public murals for the largely illiterate populace. Details of Rivera’s murals are reproduced on the walls of this exhibition, which is strikingly – but not intrusively – designed by Grieve Gillett Architects. Even in a gallery context they are astonishing – teeming with colour and symbolism as rich as the mediaeval stained-glass windows whose functions they reproduce.

The exhibition includes nine of Rivera’s paintings, from the charmingly anthropomorphic Landscape with Cacti (1931) to the stylised beauty of Calla Lily Vendor (1943), with its details of plaited hair and basketwork framing the luminous hearts of lilies. They hang among some stunning works by Rivera and Kahlo’s peers.

Among the standouts are Carlos Mérida’s joyous red, white and black abstract Festival of the Birds (1959), Maria Izquierdo’s Living Still Life (1946), a surreal conflation of ominous skies and dying landscape with watermelons and shells, and a witty photo collage, A Dream of the Drowned (c. 1945), by one of the first Mexican women photographers, Lola Álvarez Bravo. She was a lifelong friend of Kahlo, and was married for a decade to another artist included here, Manuel Álvarez Bravo. The broad selection of photographs includes portraits of Kahlo by both of the Bravos and other studies, several lush portraits by photographer (and Kahlo’s lover) Nickolas Muray, and a picture of Kahlo’s crutches by Patti Smith.

Most people, as the framing of this exhibition suggests, are here to see Kahlo. “Modernism,” said the Mexican poet and critic Octavio Paz, “is born of desperation and is perpetually enamoured of the unexpected … the poems that we love are mechanisms of successive meaning – an architecture that unmakes and remakes itself without stopping, an organism in perpetual revolution.” This seems true of many of the works here, which still resonate years later and a continent away from where they were made, but it is particularly true of Kahlo’s, since her posthumous reputation rose with her minting as a glamorous feminist and queer icon. As is the way with fame, it has as often obscured her work as illuminated it.

The most comprehensive exhibition I have seen of Kahlo’s work was the 2005 survey held at Tate Modern, which was a reminder that the paintings for which she is most famous – the literally iconic self-portraits, inspired by Mexican religious paintings called retablos – comprise only a third of her modest oeuvre of 150 paintings. Ten of Kahlo’s paintings, as well as a selection of other media, are represented here, and they are all worth seeing. They possess that quality of fierce and painful sensuality that John Berger described as a visualisation of touch: a sense that the surface – canvas, board or paper – is an extension of her skin. Each hair in, say, Self-portrait with monkeys (1943) is so finely drawn it seems alive.

There’s not much effort to disentangle Kahlo’s work from the cult of Fridamania – and after all, as evidenced by the many photos, in many ways Kahlo curated her own image. This collection lacks startling images such as Henry Ford Hospital (1932), painted after one of her miscarriages, or A Few Small Nips (1935), a picture of a man standing over the body of a woman he has mutilated, both of which were included in another collection displayed at AGSA in 1990. The closest to these are a couple of moving lithographs, Frida and the Miscarriage (1932), where she stands naked, as in an anatomical drawing, next to depictions of splitting cells and a foetus, as tears and blood drip from her eyes and vulva.

Mischief and joy – such as the delightful miniature bride peeking in shock over a riotously sensual arrangement of fruit in The bride who becomes frightened when she sees life opened (1943) – are as present in Kahlo’s work as pain. Often they are deeply entwined. In the complex symbology of The love embrace of the universe, the earth (Mexico), me, Diego and Señor Xolotl (1949), the first Kahlo you encounter, the painter is held in the embrace of the earth goddess Cihuacoatl. Kahlo in turn holds Rivera, who is depicted as a child with a third eye. It’s deeply contemplative and calm, an image of love, but also expresses the pain Kahlo felt about her childlessness. It’s also, crucially, a political assertion of Indigeneity.

This exhibition rescues Kahlo from the splendid isolation of genius with which she is too often endowed. It foregrounds how she lived and worked in a community of artists that included many women, part of a complex intellectual landscape in which her art had political as well as psychological and emotional heft. The bodily fluids she so often painted were not merely her own: they were the milk of her Indigenous mothers, the blood of women murdered in a violent and misogynistic society, tears for a country raped by savage colonial powers. The personal, for Kahlo, was profoundly political. 

Frida & Diego: Love & Revolution is showing at the Art Gallery of South Australia until September 17.

ARTS DIARY

CULTURE Two Girls from Amoonguna

ACMI, Naarm/Melbourne, until August 20

LITERATURE Mildura Writers Festival

Venues throughout Latje Latje and Barkindji Country/Mildura, July 13-16

EXHIBITION Nan Goldin

National Gallery of Australia, Ngambri and Ngunnawal Country/Canberra, until January 28

THEATRE Interloper

Theatre Royal, nipaluna/Hobart, July 13-14

VISUAL ART Michael Zavros The Favourite

Queensland Gallery of Modern Art, Meanjin/Brisbane, until October 2

LAST CHANCE

VISUAL ART Desert Jungle

Penrith Regional Gallery, Darug Country, NSW, until July 9

By Elle Naef, Alexis Kikoen, Peter Vo, Rocky Mountain PBS

The iconic murals displayed at DIA created by Leo Tanguma have drawn attention from people around the world since the 1990s. Unfortunately, much of the focus has been on the imagery of destruction rather than the storyline that ends with a vision of world peace.

Along with other elements of DIA, conspiracy theories about the murals have gone viral — rumors of Nazi or Illuminati ties, and warnings of the “new world order.” While these claims are unfounded, they have made a significant impact on the lives of the artists.

“I need to see what’s wrong in society, and then reflect it in my murals. At the same time, I wanted to reflect what’s beautiful in society and in my community,” Tanguma said.

Twenty-eight years after unveiling the murals, Tanguma spoke to Rocky Mountain PBS at his granddaughter’s home surrounded by family photos and artwork. His daughter and collaborator Leticia Darlina Tanguma was nearby offering emotional support, welling with pride as her father reflected on his artistic legacy.

“It was a spiritual awakening for me,” he added. “I’ve always been spiritual, I think. But those experiences moved me more to consider that what I had in my abilities was a God-given talent. And I think that was made important in those murals.”

DIA conspiracies

The murals at the airport, now temporarily in storage, depict the terrors of war and pollution. Among the chaos is a group of sleeping children. From their minds extends a grey mist that turns into a rainbow, leading to a portrayal of an ideal world, entitled “In Harmony with Peace and Nature.”

Despite the effort Tanguma, Darlina, and their supporters poured into the murals, the type of fame and recognition they received wasn’t what many artists pine for. Since their unveiling, conspiracy theories about the murals have run rampant.

Darlina learned about some of the rumors in the early 2000’s. She recalls hearing, “‘People hate that mural. They say, you wanted 9/11 because of that figure of war. They say that in the Bible, all these dirty animals are unclean. They say, ‘Why are you painting people in coffins?’ And, you know, just on and on where it became a terrible conspiracy.”

The delayed construction of the airport continued to feed rumors of secret underground networks, and with each new idea came a web of uncredible theories attempting to tie other works of art at the airport, like the mustang sculpture nicknamed “Blucifer,” to rumors of plotted terror.

People have profited from books and documentaries about the theories, but Tanguma and Darlina say they have rarely been asked about the actual meaning behind the murals.

And while many people find the conspiracies laughable (DIA has even turned some into a marketing opportunity), the consequences of these rumors are far from funny for the Tanguma family.

The Impact of the conspiracy theories

According to Darlina, the conspiracy theories started before the murals were even complete.

“We did have a few people come in at the time that were painting it. They said, ‘don’t paint this. There’s a new world order.’ We had no idea what they were talking about back then,” Darlina shared.

As soon as the conspiracy theories began, Tanguma lost two valuable commissions, and according to Darlina, both of them were harassed. Some people even resorted to death threats.

“People have said things like, ‘You need to destroy the art. You need to destroy the artist who did this,’” she recalled.

“I thought and I still think that these people are deranged,” said Tanguma. “For example, one religious minister called the mural satanic. Others said that they saw demons.”

Despite the airport allowing Darlina to have plaques installed explaining the murals, the conspiracies continued.

Darlina said that while people have the right to interpret art as they would like, it’s important to acknowledge the cruelty behind how these theories unfolded. She said that to overlook the important messages of peace, justice and hope the murals were meant to portray causes harm to entire communities.

“They’re [the conspiracies] destroying the artwork, too,” explained Darlina. “I’ve met other people that have been so depressed,” she continued, referring to people who feared the conspiracy theories were true.

Faces of our community

Family friend of the Tagumas, Cheryl Detwiler Mihaka, also helped create the murals. Taguma said that her talent combined with Darlina’s helped them portay a deep sense of compassion in their art.

“Both my daughter and Cheryl had experienced physical violence in relationships, so that also humanized them more,” he shared. “So, I had not only fantastically talented young women working with me, but also they brought me back to the spirituality of what we were trying to do.”

Tanguma also explained why he wanted the mural to come from the perspective of a child. “I think that there is a certain innocence among the oppressed, among the people that are uneducated, that don’t have access, practically, to life.”

Tanguma was also influenced by his work with youth who had been imprisoned, and others who were high schoolers that he painted alongside.

“I think that my connection with painting with young people, there’s been that that I’ve seen the possibilities and I’ve seen the destruction,” he summarized.

The focus of youth seemed to add to the draw of passersby, who also impacted the direction of the murals. Between 1992 and 1995, Tanguma painted murals in a room in the Lakeside Mall. The combination of large panels and Mexican music drew in curious patrons.

Word spread of the work in progress, and parents asked for their children to be depicted in “Children of the World Dream of Peace.” Among the parents were some who had lost their children and asked Tanguma to memorialize them in the mural.

One mother asked for a depiction of her son who had recently passed from suicide, another whose daughter was killed while helping her friend escape an abusive situation. Some had lost their children to gang violence.

Also featured in the mural was Tanguma’s young granddaughter, her cousins and classmates, and well-known children from around the world such as young activist Samantha Smith, (who passed in a plane crash), or brothers who marched for peace in Afghanistan. And while originally, he hadn’t planned to include political elements, Tanguma said the need to depict the injustices of war became apparent — an issue he was all too familiar with after having served in the military.

Connecting Colorado to the rest of the world

While painting the children, Tanguma asked for the families’ countries of origin, and depicted the children in the traditional clothing from each area. Over time, as many as 70 countries were portrayed.

“These are fantastic experiences that have to mold you, because you see the beauty of humanity daily, from many, many countries of the world,” he reminisced.

Tanguma hoped that by including each of these countries, the artists could spread a message of peace to places beyond Colorado.

“I saw that as an opportunity to take the ideas that I have learned in my own community, a community where they are aspiring for greater civil rights and cultural identity, that permitted me to share those ideas with the passersby from almost any country in the world,” he said.

A resilient legacy

Attempts to destroy the artwork of the Tanguma family are not new to them. Leo Tanguma has faced critiques of his work since he was a child in Texas.

“When I was in the fifth grade in elementary school, I did some drawings on the blackboard about my classmates killing our town sheriff,” he recalled. “So, I got severely punished for that. But the reason I did that is because the sheriff in our hometown was the killer. He had killed, up to that point, seven Mexican-Americans — including two of my mom’s cousins.”

Tanguma continued to do artwork portraying both injustice and visions for resolution. He was commissioned for a mural while stationed in Germany, and once again in the 1960s when he was transferred to California. There, he did a mural honoring the Mexican American movement for civil rights.

Eventually, his artist studio in his hometown of Houston was destroyed in a case of suspected arson. Around this time, his wife, Darlina’s mother, passed away from cancer. The family decided to try to start anew in Denver, where Darlina began her career as an artist while Tanguma continued creating well-known murals in places like the Denver Art Museum.

“Imagine a person that’s blacklisted in Houston. When I got to Denver, the Denver Art Museum asked me to do a mural inside the museum. What beautiful feelings that I had,” he shared. “But I still kept painting issues. I thought that besides the beautiful city and surroundings that I see, still there remained police brutality, education, women’s liberation, war.”

Through it all, Tanguma and his daughter have remained strong in their messages of hope, connected to art, and perhaps most importantly, connected to each other.

“My daughter has been the most important figure that I’ve ever painted with,” Tanguma shared. “Because not only is she talented, but she’s aware, aware of conditions, aware of our culture and our history.”

And as far as the conspiracies go, they haven’t stopped the Tangumas either. “It made me more dedicated, I think, because after that I did a number of other murals with social and cultural meaning,” he said.

Darlina continues to collaborate with community in her artwork both independently and through the Redline Contemporary Art Center’s Reach program, and Tanguma is planning a mural with students from East High School.

“I think rumors like the airport conspiracies and the mural conspiracies, they really seek to destroy the human connection, the human spirit.” Darlina said. “But I want to create artwork that will bring us together.”