How odd that the more personal a work of art, the more universal its appeal; and the more universal its sources and intent, the more personal its message. This paradox is amply illustrated in Voces Latinas (Latino Voices), an exhibition that showcases the works on paper of 17 Latino artists spanning almost a century. The artists explore a range of themes that have long been important in Latino culture: family and religion, immigration, ethnic identity and political struggle. Drawing on the rich traditions of modernism, symbolism and magical realism, each artist makes a visual statement about his or her view of the world and aspirations for humanity. In the process, the personal becomes universal, the universal personal.
"Sandia" ("Watermelon") by Carmen Lomas Garza.
The easily apprehended role of family as sanctuary gives Carmen Lomas Garza’s work its wide appeal. Lomas Garza, who grew up in rural Texas in a large Mexican-American family, knows family as sanctuary in her bones. Her 1997 lithograph “Sandia” (“Watermelon”) is an idyllic scene of children, parents and grandparents sprawled across a large porch sharing a watermelon on a hot summer evening. Done in a naive style in which every detail is lovingly depicted, the scene is brightly illuminated by a single porch light, which provides an oasis of warmth in the surrounding darkness of a midnight-blue and black sky punctuated by a slender crescent moon and lone star. The blunt contrast between the warm, nurturing family and the cold indifference of the universe is heart-rending and elevates the work above the sentimentality of the subject matter.
Sergio Gonzales-Tornero looks at the night sky and is amused, not frightened; much like the ancient Greeks, he sees it populated by fantastic creatures. His aquatint etching “L’Appareil Celeste” (“Celestial Apparatus”) is a very personal interpretation of star-gazing. A bizarre amalgam of horse, machine and rider, the human figure is not so much riding the beast and driving a machine whose function is mysterious as melded with them. Gonzales-Tornero seems to be saying that we may not fully understand who we are or why we are here, but let’s enjoy the ride.
Enrique Chagoya draws not on the ancient Greeks for inspiration, but the mythology of the ancient Mesoamericans, Western religious iconography and American popular culture. His monoprint comes from his The Big Little Book Series. It is a palimpsest of a faintly visible inverted text overlaid with a boldly delineated red figure, arms and legs outstretched and marks around the head suggesting an Aztec headdress topped by a cross. The guide informs us that the text is from a comic book in which “the protagonist is a Border Patrol agent full of stereotypes about indigenous and Mexican people.” Chagoya trumps the “winners of wars” and “colonizers of new lands” by boldly writing over their words with powerful images.
Tino Rodriguez makes reference to a plethora of images from the world’s major religions and art treasures and combines them into an intensely idiosyncratic vision. His print “Unravel” is reminiscent of Victorian illustrations of faerie realms, but the cross-legged central figure looks more like the baby Jesus or the infant Buddha than a denizen of fairyland, as around him cavort a group of pocket-sized hybrid creatures—part human, part animal, part Tinkerbell. The setting is a lush garden of vibrantly colored flowers with a bird and a butterfly. Rodriguez has meticulously studied the work of the Flemish masters and, like them, renders nature in microscopic, loving detail. The effect is so beguiling it might even reawaken in jaded viewers the childlike experience of seeing the natural world as a place of magic and beauty.
Camille Garcia also depicts fantastical scenes that are not paeans to nature but narrative commentaries on universal sins like greed. The print “Who’s Afraid of the Peppermint Man” is a series of cartoonish vignettes whose story is not unlike that of Willy Wonka: A spindly limbed, big-headed man sporting an absurdly small top hat cooks up a batch of cookies, the ingredients of which include a little boy and girl. The cookies are then served buffet-style to a group of unsuspecting children who eat them and proceed to throw up. Garcia wants to depict the disgust she feels over “capitalist” greed and overconsumption in a “likeable and cute” fashion, but may have succeeded too well, because I was more delighted than disgusted by her imaginative rendering.
Voces Latinas: Works on Paper from 1921-Present
Left of Center Gallery
2207 W.Gowan Rd, 647-7378
Through July 31