Sunday, November 2, 2008

Pachucos, Cholos y Chundos Invitando a la Chilanga Banda.




El Museo Tamayo Arte Contemporáneo invita al simposio


Sitio, presencia y ausencia
Apariciones y estrategias del arte después del movimiento chicano


Viernes 7 de noviembre de 2008
12:00 a 14:00 horas y 16:00 a 18:00 horas
Entrada libre l Cupo limitado


En el marco de la exposición Apariciones fantasmales. Arte después del movimiento chicano, el Museo Tamayo organiza este simposio donde expertos y artistas de la muestra analizarán la intervención y la tendencia conceptual del arte chicano.

Registro 11:00 horas

Sesión 1 Apariciones
12:00 a 14:00 horas
Ponentes
Ondine Chavoya, historiador del arte
Sandra de la Loza, artista de la exposición
Mario Ybarra Jr., artista de la exposición
Moderador
Cuauhtémoc Medina, crítico de arte y curador

Receso 14:00 a 15:30 horas

Registro 15:30 horas
Sesión 2 Sitios
16:00 a 18:00 horas
Ponentes
Mariana Botey, historiadora del arte
Christina Fernandez, artista de la exposición
Rubén Ortiz-Torres, artista de la exposición
Moderador
Victor Zamudio Taylor, historiador del arte y curador



Informes 
simposio_apariciones@museotamayo.org 
Tel. 5286 6519 ó 5286 6529 ext. 2229

Labels: , , , , ,

Friday, August 29, 2008

Custom Mambo





1992, 5 min. 13 sec.

"Manejar bajo (to drive low) is for the pride. And despacio (slow) is because we want to be seen”.

Crazy George from the "Viejitos" car club. 

Technology can have applications other than material, practical ones. For the Lowrider community, linguistics and aesthetics play a more important role than transportation. They fix their cars in the most incredible, excessive, baroque way ever imagined. Metal flake illustrated paint jobs, gold plated engines and brakes, velvet upholstery, disco lights, video systems and deafening stereos are some of the features that transform Chevies and other makes into shrines to be admired on the streets. Hydraulic systems are used to make the cars jump and dance and the beds of the trucks spin at more than 70 miles per hour. The car symbolizes the Californian way of life. Lowriders slow the freeways disrupting their efficient, pragmatic purpose, transforming them into a playground and meeting place. 

This early nineties video is the first I did about the subject. It doesn't pretend to coldly document this phenomenon but rather functions in a visually seductive way like the machines themselves using images, video technology and effects of dubious taste. The music composed by Xavier Alvarez is an electroacoustic piece that samples Perez Prado (the king of Mambo). Here again new technologies create rhythms and sounds that deal with the notion of "avant garde" and tradition at the same time. "You lower your car for the pride and if you drive too fast, people won't be able to check it out" says Crazy George from the Viejitos car club. These "rides" constitute an effort to be noticed in a society that doesn't want to see the people that ride them. I hope the video conveys the overwhelming experience of the Dyonisian "beauty" that escapes any notion of rationality and at the same time hints at some of the problems it raises.



Labels: , , , , ,

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Phantom Sightings, talks.

Monday, November 5, 2007

On How Color Migrated Southward from Aztlan in Search of an Eagle Eating a Snake on a Perch of a Nopal.


Text presented at: Smithsonian Latino Center, Camera Culture Out of Mexico, Photography Symposium, November 3, 2007, Mexican Cultural Institute, 2829, 16th Street, N.W., Washington, D.C.

I was invited to the “1er Coloquio Nacional de Fotografía" in the city of Pachuca in 1984. In that Orwellian year I produced a series of black & white photographs of my alienated Mexican punk friends struggling to coexist and to make sense in our post-colonial reality. I was probably the youngest person to be considered a photographer at the coloquio and knew almost no one there. I was sitting alone in the cafeteria when a nice old man with white long hair sat next to me and chatted without introducing himself. It turned out to be “Don Manuel Alvarez Bravo.” Among all the photo geeks there was one that stood out. There was a big Mexican looking guy with thick moustache wearing white shorts and pulled up white tube socks with white sneakers. I should mention than in Mexico the only adults in shorts were soccer players or “Chabelo” (a local entertainer that pretended to be a child). In one of the presentations he intervened demanding in Spanish with a strong Mexican-American accent that people would stop smoking in the closed and overcrowded auditorium. It was definitely an affront to the hedonistic freedom of self-destruction of the “Delicado1.” puffing Mexican intelligentsia. Octavio Paz once claimed that reality was more real in black & white but his daltonism was proven wrong by the c-prints of Louis Carlos Bernal, c as in Chicano as well as chromogenic. For him color was not just a condition of reality but also a layer of significance. Like fellow chromatists Tamayo, Barragán and Chucho Reyes he used color as a cultural marker. He showed us a series of images that proudly documented life in the barrios of the South West. They were portraits, still lifes and house interiors with a particular palette all the more distinct because of its absence in fine art Mexican photography. The reason for this conspicuous nonappearance was not just an aesthetic one. It had to do with the lack of availability of technology and materials such as color processors in times before NAFTA. When I had my first serious opportunity to do color photography for instance, I had to have the Kodachrome stock that was given to me processed in Texas and then printed in Cibachrome in England. I ruined a lot of reversal film overexposing it as I used to do my negatives.

Bernal made good friends with photographers in Mexico City, people like Armando Cristeto and Adolfo Patiño (also known as Adolfotógrafo). He got to meet Graciela Iturbide and Don Manuel Alvarez Bravo. He made a good portrait of Don Manuel and Graciela quoted one of Bernal’s works in on of her photographs. Perhaps it was Adolfo who developed a deeper artistic bond with him. Adolfo solved the technological and economic hurdle of the lack of infrastructure to make color photography by experimenting widely with the more accessible Polaroid and with photo booths. Although he was not a chromatist we can trace certain iconic references to Louis in Adolfo’s photographs as well as in his objects. In fact the Mexican photographer outchicano Bernal by customizing the star spangled banner with the Virgin of Guadalupe in a large tapestry.

I saw Louis Carlos again in Tucson, Arizona after driving there from Mexico City in what seemed to take forever and where each mile was warmer than the previous one. Through Louis Carlos and his girlfriend Marietta Benrstorff I met what seem to be a mirage in the desert. She was the beautiful Elisa Jimenez who is the daughter of the sculptor Luis Jimenez. He was a good friend of them and shared the affinity for the colorful glossy surfaces with Louis as we can see in his big fiberglass figurative polychromatic representations of the South West. They resemble the colorful plaster figurines sold at the border and Jeff Koons’s porcelain sculptures. They might be kitsch and camp but instead of ironic they are disarmingly proud, heroic and earnest.

Unfortunately this text does not have a happy ending. In fact it has three tragic ones. On October 24 of 1989 a car struck Lou while he was riding his bicycle to Pima College. After being in a coma for four years Bernal died on his 52nd birthday on August 18, 1993. Adolfo Patiño died falling from the ceiling of the building he was living in Mexico City on August 31st on 2005 at the age of 50. Apparently he forgot the keys of his apartment and was trying to break into it. Luis Jimenez was killed on June 13, 2006 when one of his large sculptures fell on him cutting his femoral artery bleeding him to death at the age of 66.

Recently in a panel discussion in Santa Fe I was asked about Jimenez influence in my work. I do not know if I can compare myself to these guys. What they did that really mattered is perhaps more important than art. Bernal and Jimenez as part of the Chicano movement helped to integrate and change society. The three helped to bridge the gaps between people and countries. Yesterday was the day of the death and today a good day to remember them.



1. A strong local brand of cigarettes.

Labels: , , ,

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Viva Mexico! at Zacheta National Gallery of Art in Warsaw.


Viva Mexico! es una exposición de arte contemporaneo mexicano organizada por Magda Kardasz para la Galería Nacional de Arte Zacheta de Varsovia en Polonia. A diferencia de otras exposiciones similares sobre el mismo tema esta no solo incluye artistas de la ciudad de México. De hecho problematiza la idea de nación o de una exposición nacional al presentar artistas de mas allá de las fronteras geográficas actuales. Así pues la exposición se anuncia como una exposición de México D.F., Tijuana/San Diego, Guadalajara, Monterrey y Los Ángeles.

Mientras Silverio se desgañitaba y la polka posmoderna de Nortec sonaba en Polonia tuve la oportunidad de beber vodka con salsa Tabasco y jugo de arándano. A este experimento globalizado le llaman "mad dog" y estaba bueno. Ojalá hubiera podido brindar con Ludwik Margules y Marcos Kurtycz para olvidar las penas de la trágica historia que en estos lares ha sido aún peor. A estos padres del teatro y el performance en México les dedico al menos mi parte de la exposición.

Labels: , , , , ,

Monday, August 13, 2007

Belfast Barrio pictures & ¡Yepa, Yepa, Yepa! en español.




These are some images that include the mural I did with Gerard Kelly in West Belfast in 1992. The British soldiers that were harrasing us while we were making it finally left a week ago.

Estas imágenes son del mural hecho en colaboración con Gerard Kelly en Belfast en 1992. Los soldados ingleses que estuvieron molestándonos mientras lo hacíamos finalmente salieron de Irlanda después de 38 años la semana pasada. Dizque nomás iban a estar unos meses apaciguando el conflicto sectario que acabaron atizando. A ver si no los mandan a Irak a hacer lo mismo.

¡Yepa, Yepa, Yepa!.

“Yepa, Yepa, Yepa!”: Desmothernismo, Smart Art Press, Travesías, Huntington Beach Art Center, Santa Monica, California, Guadalajara, Mexico, Huntington Beach, California, 1998, pp. 46-59.


Entre Zappa y Zapata.

La primera pintura al óleo que hice en mi vida fue un retrato de Emiliano Zapata en 1977. Quice hacer una pintura pop y moderna. Utilicé colores ácidos y psicodélicos y decidí actualizar el elegante traje de charro pintándolo de morado con corbatín verde aguacate. Al fondo de la pintura pinté un paisaje desértico con un sahuaro y un nopal en una composición simétrica en la que el caudillo del sur se encuentra en el centro y primer plano. El cielo está pintado en colores cálidos degradados del rosa mexicano al amarillo pasando por un brillante rojo escarlata denotando un atardecer digno de Fonart o de un poster de Peter Max de los años sesentas. Cuando presenté orgulloso mi primer cuadro a mis compañeros alguién comentó: “está horrible, parece arte chicano”.

La verdad es que en aquél entonces mi único contacto con el arte chicano fue haber visto la obra Las Dos Caras del Patroncito dirigida por Luis Valdez. Mi padre me llevó a verla cuando la presentó el Teatro Campesino en la casa del Lago de la ciudad de México en los años sesentas.

La elección de Zapata como tema pictórico no fue mía sino de la maestra Eugenia de mi clase de arte. El vínculo zapatista pop existía también en el rumor que circulaba en mi secundaria de que el verdadero nombre de Frank Zappa era Francisco Zapata. Al igual que Sam the Sham y Ritchie Valens pensabamos que Zappa se había cambiado de nombre para ocultar su verdadera identidad. La evidencia de esto era el disco de Rubén and the Jets (donde participó el legendario funkahuatl Rubén Guevara) y algunas canciones con partes en español. Esto sucedería después de que el grupoLa Revolución de Emiliano Zapata triunfó en Avándaro con su sencillo en inglés Nasty Sex.

En 1931 Diego Rivera pintó Zapata, Lider Agrario para su exposición individual en el Museo de Arte Moderno en Nueva York. En este fresco Diego pintó a Emiliano Zapata con huaraches, camisa y pantalones de manta al lado de un caballo blanco para identificarlo con campesinos vestidos de manera similar a los que guía. Esta visión de Rivera es tal vez tan distorsionada como la mía en que viste su traje de charro psicodélico. En las fotos que se conocen de Zapata, este siempre aparece muy elegantemente vestido con botas, traje de charro y cananas.

“(Zapata)... vestía una corta chaquetilla negra, un largo paliacate de seda de color azul pálido, una camisa de pronunciado color lavanda y usaba alternadamente un pañuelo blanco de franja verde y otro en el que estaban pintados todos los colores de las flores. Vestía pantalones apretados negros, de corte mexicano, con botones de plata cosidos en el borde de cada pernera.”
Un Agente Norteamericano1

Al ser adquirido por el Museo de Arte Moderno de Nueva York el cuadro de Rivera internacionalizó esta imagen del revolucionario mexicano. Posteriormente Warner Brothers presentó por primera vez un ratoncito vestido con pantalones, camisa de manta y sombrero de charro que velozmente roba el queso para repartirlo entre otros desafortunados y pusilánimes ratones mexicanos. La similitud entre la imagen de Speedy Gonzalez y el Zapata de Rivera no puede ser coincidencia. Uno nunca sabe para quién trabaja.

“Señores:

¡Yepa, yepa yepa!
¡Andale, ándale!
¡Arriba, arriba!
¡Yepa, yepa!

Desde las montañas del Sureste Mexicano.
Subcomandante Insurgente-Marcos
Alias “El Sup Speedy Gonzalez” o lo que es lo mismo “la piedra en el zapato”
México, Julio de 1998.”2

La Conexión Irlandes, El Batallón de San Patricio y el Muralismo a Fuerzas.

La imagen de Zapata ha aparecido de manera voluntaria e involuntaria en mi obra (junto con Speedy apareció prominentemente en el video realizado en colaboración con Aaron Anish Para Leer el Macho Mouse). La situación mas delirante sucedió en el oeste de Belfast en Irlanda del norte.

En el verano de 1993 fui a Irlanda con el fin de investigar y establecer contactos para una posible exposición que asociaría la experiencia cultural irlandesa y la mexicana. Al principio esta tarea sonaba sencilla pero se convirtió en misión imposible. Durante el vuelo a Europa abrí un sobre con una serie de instrucciones de la organizadora del proyecto que parecían mas para un agente secreto que para un artista, incluyendo el destruir el mismo mensaje antes de llegar a Belfast. Además de ir a conocer a los artistas y los espacios locales se había mencionado la posibilidad de pintar un mural comunitario. Yo aclaré desde un principio que era algo que preferiría no hacer dado que actualmente estas actividades se plantean mas como un servicio social y se suelen desvirtuar como práctica artística.

Después de estar en Derry y en Dublín tomé el camión a Belfast. En la mañana vimos en la televisión noticias de una explosión en el centro de la ciudad. Al llegar en la terminal de autobuses la Royal Ulster Constabulary (la policia que es mayormente prounionista y protestante) buscaba otra bomba. En la noche asistimos a una obra de teatro dentro del festival cultural del oeste de Belfast, donde al final se cantaron himnos republicanos y se exaltó el nacionalismo irlandes con los puños en alto. Pronto mis amigos mexicanos y yo nos dimos cuenta de la imposibilidad de una posición neutral dentro de este contexto ante el riesgo de la alienación total en medio del conflicto sectario.

A la mañana siguiente fui a ver la locación donde me invitaban a realizar el mural en colaboración con Jerry Kelly. Cuando llegué a exponer mi posición en cuanto a lo de pintar un mural, un pelotón de soldados ingleses irrumpió buscando pistas de francotiradores que habían disparado desde el edificio de enfrente el día anterior. Los soldados les daban dulces a los niños para atraerlos y usarlos como protección contra posibles francotiradores mientras los pecosos pequeñines los apedreaban. Simultaneamente interferían las frecuencias de radio para evitar que se detonaran bombas a control remoto y sus perros olfateaban en busca de explosivos plásticos.

Traté de aclarar que no todos los artistas mexicanos somos muralistas. Jerry Kelly me propuso que al menos yo hiciera los dibujos y que el pintaba el mural. Este mural probablemente no resolvería ningún problema pero negarme a hacerlo iba a ser visto como un gesto cobarde mas que conceptual. Finalmente decidí emular a John O’Reilly y al batallón de San Patricio donde soldados irlandeses acabaron peleando (y posteriormente siendo colgados) del lado mexicano durante la invasión norteamericana y en un gesto internacionalista correspondiente decidí intentar ayudar con mis conocimientos de dibujo.

Los murales en Belfast cumplen al igual que los murales y el graffiti de los barrios de Los Angeles la función de denotar el territorio. Los temas y el estilo son sorprendentemente similares, en el barrio se romantiza el pasado azteca y en los barrios de Belfast el pasado celta (los murales unionistas exaltan de manera rococó a heroes y batallas del siglo XVIII), en East L.A. se pintan odas a los homies víctimas de las gangas enemigas y en West Belfast murales en memoria de los voluntarios del ejercito republicano irlandés (o a los encapuchados paramilitares unionistas en el este de Belfast).

Los murales irlandeses tienen algunas particularidades. Los soldados británicos suelen convertirse en pintores expresionistas abstractos aventando globos con pintura (“paintbombs”) sobre los murales republicanos para censurar las partes que consideran problemáticas. Debido a esta contingencia los murales son pintados con colores planos para ser reparados por los mismos residentes de las casas que sirven de soporte. Al principio hice varios diseños relativamente experimentales en los que incluí salpicados y chorreados de pintura con la intención de que cuando estos fueran bombardeados por los soldados ingleses con pintura se diera una colaboración. Tomé fotografías de algunas murales con motivos muy violentos que al ser salpicados quedaron muy interesantes y la forma incluso reforzaba el contenido. No obstante la idea de autosalpicar el mural les pareció ofensiva y pensaron que sería malinterpretada por la comunidad. Otra propuesta era la de incorporar y alterar ciertos íconos reconocibles de la cultura popular y tampoco fructifero. No había mas ruta que la suya.

Lo que querían era que representáramos héroes de México e Irlanda, mismos héroes que desde luego en otros contextos serían vistos como villanos. La idea era que pintáramos héroes revolucionarios de antes y contemporaneos. Al darme cuenta que no había mucho que negociar me puse a ilustrar estas ideas. Una vez mas resucitaría los bigotes y el sombrero de Zapata al lado del revolucionario irlandés James Connolly y un problema surgiría. Como revolucionario contemporaneo irlandés pintaríamos un voluntario republicano pero: ¿cuál sería la imagen de un revolucionario contemporáneo mexicano en 1993?. Desde luego no la de un priista. Iconográficamente se me ocurrió que tal vez lo mas cercano sería representar a un “brown beret”. Los “brown berets” son militantes nacionalistas chicanos llamados así por sus boinas cafés que se organizaron en los años sesentas para apoyar el movimiento de derechos civiles chicano y que aún actualmente aparecen en ciertos eventos públicos. Así pues pintamos la imagen de un joven de algún barrio de Califas con su boina cafe, su camisa dickies abrochada del botón superior y con la mano tatuada con la característica cruz y los puntos de la “vida loca”, sus khakis y haciendo un placazo que originalmente denotaba una V de victoria. El gesto de la mano lo tuvimos que cambiar porque en Irlanda el mismo gesto equivale a una obsenidad y finalmente optamos por una W que según yo significaría West Belfast (como el gesto que se utiliza en Los Angeles para significar “West Side”).

La realización del mural tuvo varias dificultades. Algunos problemas eran meramente técnicos pues algunas pinturas eran de aceite y otras de agua, faltaban algunos colores y escaleras y había que coordinar a niños y vecinos para que rellenaran las partes que ibamos dibujando. El problema principal fue que los ingleses mandaron constantemente pelotones de soldados y un helicóptero que se estacionó en el aire arriba de nosotros para ver que hacíamos. Mi colaborador Kelly se dedicaba a insultarlos mientras me decía que el helicóptero contaba con sofisticados sistemas de vigilancia a través de los cuales eramos escuchados y grabados. Ante esto no me quedó mas que insultarlos en español que supuse no entenderían.

En cierto sentido los soldados entendían mas que los vecinos ya que cuando veían a Zapata estos gritaban: ¡¡Yepa, yepa, arriba, arriba, ándale, ándale!! imitando a Speedy Gonzalez y haciendo la asociación posriveriana (y ahora neozapatista con el comunicado del Sup), en tanto que los vecinos me preguntaban si era un guerrillero vasco.

Este mural adquirió una vida propia. Mas que una obra de arte, una pieza de Jerry Kelly o de Rubén Ortiz Torres o una ilustración revolucionaria, nació una pintura popular internacional, un mural del barrio global tan excéntrico como la realidad que lo generó. Una expresión popular con características de Pico Union y Springhill Belfast. La obra realmente se terminó cuando quedó plasmada en las páginas de la revista chola Teen Angels.

Para mi sorpresa y escepticismo tanto el mural como mis obras con Speedy y Zapata se convirtieron en profecías de las cuáles el susto todavía no se me baja. Seis meses después el twist iconográfico daba una vuelta mas inesperada y la guerra se contagiaba a la selva chiapaneca. Las balaklavas se convertían en pasamontañas y el Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional tomaba San Cristobal de las Casas desempolvando la mitología de la revolución mexicana.

El Juego de Marcel.


Marcel Duchamp logró instituirse así mismo como sistema legitimador del arte y logró permutar al objeto cotidiano en obra de arte. Actualmente se permuta cualquier banal “ready made” en objeto de valor y la vanguardia se ha institucionalizado. En un flujo de información no recíproco se generan en la periferia vanguardias en el espiritú de Marcel, pero de Marcel Marceau. Se imitan las apariencias y los estilos y se evita el discurso bajo el argumento de que la obra habla por si sola. Con el colapso de instituciones culturales y sistemas de validación periféricos muchas veces se depende y se produce para un contexto distante y diferente en las capitales de la cultura. “Nada mas latinoamericano que temer parecerlo” afirma Jesús Fuenmayor3 confirmando que la falta de especificidad cultural se ha vuelto eso, una “especificidad cultural” y un provincialismo mas. Este querer actuar “globalmente” es una manera de pensar localista.

El discurso artístico y la cultura se homogeneiza, acompañando una violencia globalizadora con el mandato universal de sumarse a una supuesta “internacionalización” como si esta fuera una salida redentora al principio de nación. El moderno estilo internacional fue un reductivismo formal inspirado en la consigna de Mies Van de Rohe de que “menos es mas”, amparado por una visión utópica que prometía la solución de los problemas sociales y el logro de una armonía espiritual inducida desde lo estético. Hoy sin embargo el lenguaje internacional no está acompañado de ninguna de esas justificaciones. No es que defienda el concepto de nación, todo lo contrario. Pero nos queda impedir la homogeneidad y recordar las paradojas. ¿No sería que “internacional” debiera significar la mezcla de nociones y estéticas de dos o mas naciones, o mejor aún de culturas?. Que en lugar de la homogeneidad que borra el pasado, y niega la diversidad cultural o política, ofrezcamos mezclas que en su hibridismo exacerbado nos recuerden la imposibilidad de lo nacional tanto como de un internacionalismo de cuadros monócromos (de objetos banales o cualquier moda uniformadora). En ese sentido proyectos tan delirantes y coyunturales que van mas allá de la voluntad individual (finalmente en cualquier contexto la producción artística depende de una serie de negociaciones) como el mural de Springhill, Belfast o el retrato de Zapata vestido como cantante de los Commodores mezclan varias representaciones nacionales y por lo tanto son internacionales para bien o para mal.

El entender los mecanismos sociales, estéticos, políticos y culturales que definen la belleza (en este caso la belleza de lo impuro) es una permutación necesaria que incorpora la lección de Cage o del primer Marcel.

Zapata reencarna una vez mas en su caballo blanco volando como significante no de un estado nación sino de algo impredecible y diferente dependiendo de donde aparece. No hay mas ruta que la que se recorre lo suficiente.

“¡Nemi Zapata!
¡Nemi Zapata!
¡Nican ca namotata,
ayemo miqui!
¡Nemi Zapata!”4





1. Zapata, Iconografía, Fondo de Cultura Económica, primera edición 1979, primera reimpresión 1982, México, D.F., México, p. 40.
2. MARCOS, Subcomandante, La Jornada, jueves, 16 de julio de 1998, México, D.F., México, p. 5.
3. FUENMAYOR, Jesús: “Nada más Latinoamericano que Temer Parecerlo”, Así Está la Cosa, Instalación y Arte Objeto en América Latina, Centro Cultural de Arte Contemporáneo, Fundación Cultural Televisa, 1997, México D.F., México, p. 16.
4. MARCOS, Subcomandante, La Jornada, jueves, 16 de Julio de 1998, México, D.F., México, p. 5.

Labels: , , , , , ,

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Cathedrals on Wheels



"Cathedrals on Wheels" © 1998 The Foundations for Advanced Critical Studies, Inc., originally published in Art Issues (September/October, 1998).

"I believe in the kind of communism where everybody drives a Cadillac."
- Mick Jones of The Clash, from the 1979 movie Rude Boy

During the early years of the Cold War, big American cars functioned like the Baroque cathedrals of the Counter-Reformation. They were meant to seduce and convert people from Puritan morality and the austerity of social justice to the excesses of individual freedom and the market economy. They required an inordinate amount of gas and parking space, and they may not have been as easy to fix as the German Volkswagen Beetle (literally the car of the people), but who cares about practical earthly matters when you can drive a big rocket-looking conveyor with space-age tail fins that launches you to heaven? Nikita Kruschev asked Vice President Nixon about those tail fins without getting a specific answer, but Che Guevara would come to know better as he cruised the streets of Havana in a classic 1960 Chevy Impala. Style is a function of politics. While art and decoration failed to stop the advancement of Protestantism for the Roman Catholic Church, they helped foster the need for superfluous Western commodities that would bring down the Berlin Wall.

The Americas conquered by the Catholic king were the perfect laboratory to test this Baroque ideology. Mexico and Peru had large amounts of souls who (in the eyes of the Church) needed to be saved, and skillful artisans to do the work. A "New World" was to be created. The indigenous artisans who worked in the new cathedrals were able to indulge in all sorts of exquisite extreme ornamentation in order to offer a glimpse of the gates of the kingdon of heaven in an otherwise temporary and painful terrestrial life. European architectural styles were adapted to the local needs and sensibilities, and new ones emerged, such as the plateresco, which incorporated ornaments common to silver jewelry, and the churrigueresco, which was even more flamboyant and excessive.

Today, lowrider cars combine and exacerbate old and modern Baroque sensibilities, transforming American cars into sexualized moving altars of an American dream gone amok. Resembling the hot rods and custom cars that Tom Wolfe analyzed in his 1965 essay The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby, lowriding cars are quintessential art objects, at least if you use the standards applied in a civilized society. They work in the opposite way of the ubiquitous hot rod: Lowriders are not speed maniacs. They are cars to be driven slowly, to be seen in all their detail. They are the ultimate aesthetic statement in car culture. They may be chopped down with glossy chrome-plated and stainless-steel-spoked small wheels or lined with elegant velvet and fur interiors that would compete with the most luxurious suite in a Las Vegas hotel.

A fine example is "Penthouse", designed by Armando Montes. This beautiful 1976 Buick Regal is painted in a deep candy burgundy with red pearl on a gold base, its mirrored shine so clear that when you look closely at it, you see every wrinkle on your face. Scan the dashboard and it seems that you're in a stealth bomber. Gauges are digital, outlined in gold, and a custom-made gold steering wheel with the name of the car engraved on it has been added. Armando trashed the Buick engine and put in its place a Chevy 350 V8, with three deuces on an Edelbrock intake manifold. He added steel-braided lines. Everything is either painted, chromed or gold-plated. And, of course, a hydraulic setup of chrome and gold lifts the lowrider. All lines run inside steel tubing, through the interior and out the firewall to the front cylinders. The car is equipped, characteristically, with a bar and mini-TV.

Such show machines are for the looks, not to be used and messed up. But the Lowrider Show Rulebook states one basic principle: "Every vehicle must be operable". All the exuberant concoctions on display have to perform. Some alterations are more conceptual than formal, like gold plating on the brakes or exhaust system. Other alterations are not meant to beautify the cars but to make them act in an unusual manner, such as the addition of hydraulic systems to make the cars hop or dance. Throughout, modern charros (Mexican cowboys) find innovative ways to domesticate their aggressive machines to perform the elegant tricks that might attract the attention of skimpily dressed señoritas.

In a car show, the overwhelming storm of colours and noise -- coming from potent boom sound systems that pump bilingual rap beats from gold-plated, candy-painted, neon-illuminated and turntable-mounted chromed exotics among amazing, elaborate displays -- causes sensory overload. The marriage between hip hop and lowriding testifies to the cultural cross-pollination that happens in the inner cities, between the 'hoods and the barrios. Heroes and iconography from religious and pop worlds share the lowrider panteon with those from all the nations of Southern Califas. We find on cars the inevitable Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Jesus Christ, Native American motifs, Bart Simpson, Warner Bros. cartoon characters Tweetie and Speedy Gonzalez, Afrocentrism, the Mexican Legend of the Volcanoes, Emiliano Zapata, local homeboys, Disney characters, leprechauns and shamrocks, and so forth. I once saw a gaucho (Argentinian cowboy) lowrider bike placed on a stand shaped in the form of Argentina. Even more dramatically, with the conceptual twist of a Jasper Johns flag painting, Mosie Garland Hernandez's '65 Chevy Impala becomes a Mexican flag itself (and not just a representation) in his classic lowrider car named "This is for La Raza".

With the advent of lowrider culture, the individualistic American dream of driving away to escape it all has been replaced with the notion of driving together. Lowriders organize in car clubs and go cruising on weekends on specific boulevards, updating the old Mexican practice of walking around the town plaza on Sundays in order to socialize and flirt with the girls. They drive slow, pumping their music and blocking traffic, messing with a social system that is not eager to accept them. Their cars are turned into political and aesthetic signifiers. No longer tools of efficient, modern transportation (which in fact they never really were), they beome a medium of expression. The Highway Patrol remembers the Alamo, and has declared war on the lowriders, closing first Whittier Boulvard in 1979 and later other streets, from Hollywood to Wan Nuys. Just as the LAPD banned the Zoot Suit in the 1940s, calling it un-American, cruising is often prohibited today. But as any afficionado of the culture can tell you, lowriding is as American as a burrito from Taco Bell.

The origin of the lowrider car is legend, with many different versions in circulation. My favourite one (that makes any sense) is the following: Somewhere around the Southwest in the late 1940s, big cars whose trunks were loaded with material rode very low and close to the ground; these cars and the Mexican Americans that used to drive them became known as "lowriders". At some point, people started to lower their cars to highlight the Mexican connotations (although other customizers were lowering their cars in order to present less air resistance and drive faster). Limits on lowering were imposed by the Highway Patrol, so the lowriders developed hydraulic systems to raise their cars and fool the cops when they were around, only to lower them again in safer moments. These systems have been in constant evolution, resulting in powerful and elaborate contraptions that now enable cars to hop and dance in extreme ways. (Bicycles and car models are options for beginner customizers who can't afford an automobile or aren't of driving age.)

During the 1960s, these machines became symbols of the Chicano civil rights movement. Today commerce has all but taken over the sport. With a circulation exceeding 400,000, Lowrider magazine has become the most successgul Chicano publication ever. Nevertheless, it once struggled financially; in 1979, as a sales gimmick, it published the first bikini model on one of its covers. She was a fan named Mona, who ended up being known as "Bad girl numero uno". (As a result she was kicked out of Catholic school.) Not just Chicanas protested, even the guys in the car clubs got upset. They took it personally, saying, "This is a nice homegirl and you're making her look real trashy. You're making this a cheese magazine, not a car magazine". Despite the criticism still levied at the magazine, Mona and the models who followed consistently provided a 15-20% boost in sales, and have become de riguer. Notwithstanding this commercial interest, the magazine still takes a worthy political stand in the face of hate mail that associates lowriding with drugs, crime and vulgarity.

Lowrider culture has its own established traditions and avant-garde. The Chevy Impala is the classic and revered mechanical icon and fetish of Cold War post-industrial America. The tradition prohibits worship of other models: "You shall alter the function but not the shape of the Chevy Impala". This affordable and roomy family car was originally inherited by teenagers in the barrios. With an average length of more than 215 inches, the Impala was a lowrider from the beginning. The frame of the Impalas, especially the x-frame on the '64, became the ideal chassis for hopping.

The masterpiece of lowrider cars -- the pinnacle of the avant-garde -- was researched by the four-time Radical Bed Dance Champion Salvador Chava Muñoz, hailing from Jalisco, Mexico, who altered the shape and function of his car to such a dgree that it's hard to recognize it as a car at all. Like Duchamp in New York and Picasso in Paris (both outsiders in early-twentieth-century avant-garde culture), Salvador ended up working far from his birthplace. He moved from Jalisco to San Ysidro, California. As an outsider to the lowrider community, he was able to free himself from the classicism of the Chevy Impala. A self-taught iconoclast, he transformed a 1973 Nissan pickup truck into "Wicked Bed". The bed of the truck rises and spins in two directions while it opens up into four independent parts. The doors fly out and spin around while the hood jumps off and twirls as well. The front of the truck separates itself from the back and drives around independently, while the rest of the car dances. Like some sort of Doctor Frankenstein, this showman has given new life to an aggressive, irrational machine. The future is happening now, out of control, like a mutated virus.

Salvador's transformed machine uses technology in seductive, unexpected ways. It has become a tool of cultural jamming in the streets, Nevertheless, his cubist pickup has never received recognition from the established lowrider publications: It has yet to be featured on a cover or in a centerfold with a beautiful jaina (babe) in a bikini. After finally achieving the ultimate car abstraction, Salvador is withdrawing to a neoclassical period, just as Picasso and Stravinsky did after their major breakthroughs. Now he is customizing a '63 Impala, but he couldn't be completely conventional in his choices; his clean hydraulic job lifts the back of the car more than five feet high!

According to Wolfe's model, customized cars are completely Dionysian creations, even with their straight lines and modern shapes, because these "bad" creations aren't purely functional. They exist unashamedly for exaggeration and ornamentation, no longer informed by minimalist notions of elegance and Puritan disdain for decoration. On the contrary, lowrider cars are Montezuma's revenge against Mondrian. They are not a simple hedonistic statement. Deeply embedded in Judeo-Christian culture, these machines don't separate pleasure from pain or guilt. Often they are self-parodies; appealing and repulsive at the same time, the stand for spicy taste. And while they cannot be compared to Brancusi's monumental sculptures, they do compare favourably with Salvador Dali's Tijuana velvet-painting nightmares. They are loved and hated by the broader culture, incorporating the contradictions inherent in both power and sex. They are not produced by kids with a lot of money, but by those who have grown up with the complex of not having it, wanting it, and the potential guilt of obtaining it. The profit of their working-class labour is invested in bright objects of desire instead of the accumulation of capital necessary of social mobility.

For Octavio Paz, the will to live in Mexican culture is a will for form. And so, the lowriders and their care of Mexican-American culture are slaves to form: They want to live, and they want to be seen. Newspapers and television news cover only violent incidents at lowrider car shows; otherwise, the cars just exist as rapper props for MTV. But neither La Migra (the border patrol) nor the mainstream populace is ready to see them for what they really are. (Hot rodders from the 1960s were invisible too, until they turned the whole culture upside down, and mainstream car designers copied them.) Chevy Impalas are a non-renewable resource. Slowly, the Peterson Automotive Museum in Los Angeles and the Smithsonian Institution are starting to collect classic lowrider cars, and international attention continues to grow. Japanese lowrider fans are paying good sums of money to import these customized national treasures from the barrios of Southern Califas to Japan. (The Los Angeles Times alarmingly reported this to a public that still bitterly complains about Japan's lack of imports of American cars.) The Japanese -- like Che Guevara before them -- are exercising their freedon of choice and just may know what to do with this great American legacy. In the words of Viejitos car club member Crazy George: "Manejar bajo [to drive low] is for the pride. And despacio [slow] is because we want to be seen".



Labels: , ,

Wednesday, May 9, 2007

Text read to present Jaime Hernandez at UCSD


Rock n’ roll was a victim of the student massacre in Mexico City in 1968. The left considered it an imperialist cultural alienation while the right and the government associated it with unacceptable, radical and revolutionary youth. It became an unattainable object of desire. Rock concerts were prohibited. Scratched and burned out movie prints of Woodstock, Monterrey Pop and other concert movies were screened at the University film theatre to a desperate crowd that would danced undressed and stoned, clapping for an encore that would never come. The “Nopal Curtain” made us ghosts that could see but were not seen. Bands were not allowed to play in public and much less to air their stuff in the radio. Since the whole thing had to be underground the bands were way out there. Like the punk band Maria Bonita formed by the fat brothers Lafontaine that were also known as “Las Toronjas.” Mario was a soul drag queen chained by Juan Carlos who was a gothic industrial dressed like a priest while playing the synthesizers. Juan Carlos did not speak English but it was not necessary for him since he thought that he could communicate through his outfit with Siouxsie from Siouxsie and the Banshees.

There was a rumor in my high school that Frank Zappa was Mexican. His real name was supposed to be Francisco Zapata and supposedly he changed it like Sam the Sham. My search for punk rock took me to London in the eighties were I discovered Love n’ Rockets. This time it had to be for real. These stories had to be about my friends and family. Otherwise why could there be Ortiz’s vatos and punksters. Somehow my father didn’t tell me about cousins Speedy and Izzy but I read about them and Palomar had to be somewhere there between Colima and Sinaloa where some relatives are. These comic books reconciled the schizophrenia of growing up playing punk rock in a major industrialized and polluted city, dreaming (and living) with science fiction with the crazy stories of my family in the countryside. I never read that a shark ate my aunt when she was having her period and that the shark was later killed by my uncle with a machete but I remember seeing the picture. I did not read neither about another uncle that would see the devil every time he would encounter a goat. However I read about the American anthropologist that timed one of the kids from Palomar breaking the 100 m. world record. A record that exists outside history like everything that happens were nothing is supposed to happen.

Now my platonic love Hopey is growing old and Maggie too. How do Jaime and Gilbert know about California, punk rock, women, Latin America, and whoever “us” is so well? We should find out. Carlos Monsivais the famous Mexican writer referred to my generation as “the first generation of gringos born in Mexico.” Love and Rockets proof him wrong. Perhaps we are the first generation of Chicanos from Oxnard born in Mexico.

Labels: ,

Blog Information Profile for ruortiz