AfroCuba: Works on Paper, 1968-2003. Indianapolis Museum of Art. February 25, 2007-June 3, 2007.
Reviewed by Edward M. Puchner
The recent traveling exhibition AfroCuba: Works on Paper, 1968-2003
at the Indianapolis Museum of Art (IMA), organized by the San Francisco
State University Art Gallery and curated by Judith Bettelheim, takes as
its mission “to [re]assert the significance and importance of the
production inspired by an AfroCuban cultural presence in Cuban
society.” The methods by which this mission is accomplished are at
times impressive and at times surprisingly regressive. And these
methods fall into two general categories that are illustrated by the
works in the show: investigating the fluid definition of what AfroCuban
means to the artists of Cuba and recuperating Cuban history and
culture. A handful of artists are represented more than others,
indicating the preferences that the curator Bettelheim, attaches to
artists like Rafael Queneditt Morales and Rafael Zarza, but they become
embedded within rich, theme-based groupings of Cuban artists, young and
old. As the entrance label asserts, Bettelheim’s project makes use of
all of these artists to present “tradition bearers in the visual arts
as spokespersons for their culture.”
AfroCuba
is of great importance to the people of Cuba because of its constant
redefinition. Using the entrance label to cautiously discuss the term,
the curator writes that it is “not exclusive in its connotations” and
“not an entity based on race.” It is understood as part of all Cuban
life, going well beyond the limits of visual arts. AfroCuba extends to
a wide range of cultural groups, such as Lucumí, Congo, Ararà, and
Carabalí, all identified as distinct within Cuban society. Within them,
Bettelheim writes, AfroCuba “is a reality based on a particular
shifting set of historical and cultural contributions” made by Cuban
artists. The works of each artist shown here are therefore all
AfroCuban in how they demonstrate some distinct intersection of Cuban
historical experience and African cultural belief.
Organized
throughout three white-box rooms of varying size, the IMA exhibition
began in an intimate space with the first theme of ‘Religion.’
Carefully explaining the major religions within Cuba in terms of their
African bases, the label text enumerates La Regla de Ocha, or Santaría,
Palo Monte Mayombe and Espiritismo. Thanks to the Cuban constitution of
1976 guaranteeing religious freedom, the artists shown here began to
use religious imagery and references from these three belief systems in
their printing in the 1970s—or what Cubans refer to as the “African
decade.” With the further rise in tourism and the waning of government
restrictions in the 1980s, this religious sentiment in art only
increased, also giving rise to ‘folklore tourism’ and the Conjunto
Folklórico (National Folklore Troupe).
Many
of the works on paper demonstrating these three religious beliefs were
created after 1987 with the important exception of Rafael Queneditt
Morales. Using a stippling effect from a technique he calls calcographica, his images seem like raised dots that form images of spirits or orichas.
The artist, according to the statement provided, seeks “profound
essences within our religions (Cubanía) as a result of African heritage
[that] express mestizaje that
is culture.” These subtle works are abstract, design-oriented,
patterned images that vibrate with energy. The other, more recent
artists offer styles that are more powerful visually, utilizing imagery
derived more clearly from the observed world. Santiago Rodriguez
Olazábal and his 2002 screenprint Madre Respóndeme
(Mother, Answer Me) looks to ancestors and family members. A direct
image of a woman waving her hand, tracing white swaths of movement and
dots around herself, Olazábal is here tapping into the inheritance that
he feels from his family’s generations of Babalawos and Lyaloshas, or Santaría religious leaders. And the lithograph Un toque de cazuela
(A Drummer for the Pot) from 2001, by Rafael Zarza, represents ritual
objects and symbols of Palo Monte Mayombe. Derived from beliefs of the
Kongo, it is an image of devotion that visually demarcates a spiritual
space. Much of the work in this section is powerful, both in imagery
and feeling, evoking the release of years of religious restrictions and
the deeply spiritual side to AfroCuban artwork.
In
the next, much larger room, the exhibition turned to politicized groups
that, more or less, develop themes of national pride. The first theme
is ‘Angola,’ a nation in Africa that many Cubans have close ties to
and, beginning in 1975, drew sizable numbers of troops from Cuba.
Artists like Zarza and Choco (Eduardo Roca Salasar) traveled to Angola
during the late 1970s to administer arts programs. During this time,
they each brought much Angolan imagery, from hairstyles to gun-laden
men, into their work. Simultaneously, in 1977, Cuba saw the genesis of
the ‘Grupo Antillano.’ The next theme in the exhibition, it was a black
consciousness movement that sought to bring more visibility to Cuban
artists. Rafael Queneditt Morales and Ramón Haití Eduardo, two founding
members, wanted to express solidarity simply by exhibiting together and
demonstrating to the world that a specifically Cuban artistic tradition
was alive and well. While other examples of their work express
religious beliefs, the works included in this group show a profound
interest in exploring movement and color as seen in the fascinating
work of Ramón Haití Eduardo. This group of works, however, only uses
1977 as a pivot and includes earlier works from the late sixties and
early seventies by Eduardo and Morales in order to contrast them
against a later developing sense of exploration. Eduardo’s ink on paper
drawing Untitled from 1970 is
very sculptural, pooling ink at the edges. After 1977, his drawing
bursts forth with expression. What were nuanced, static forms before,
evolve into an embroiled, horizontal explosion of limbs in Untitled of 1980 that are cartoonish and modernist at the same time. Its penetrating line evokes conflict and steadfast precision.
Indeed,
modernist sentiments from Western art creep into many works included in
the show. Yet one unfortunate manifestation of this is the ‘Idealized
Women of Santiago’ group shown (in the IMA presentation) across from
the ‘Grupo Antillano.’ The discussion of this topic centers around
Carnival and implies that, among Santiago de Cuba’s many attributes, is
its “beautiful, sensual women.” What would elsewhere be a discussion of
misogyny and objectification, here is a celebration of the dancers
clothed in cabaret-style clothes, none of which are pictured in the
works shown. Instead, Bettelheim chooses woodcuts by Jorge Knight Vera,
like Venús tropical
consisting of a single black form that simplifies the woman down to
breasts and buttocks, calling upon the influence of Picasso and his
endless nudes. While I understand that Cuban women can be seen in art
as a “powerful, controversial, social and economic force,” the
exhibition fails to create any sense of complexity within these works.
It brings in the questionable legacy of Picasso’s appropriation of
African forms that, in light of the African heritage that Bettelheim is
attempting to tease out from these works, implies that Cuban artists
look to Picasso’s works in order to understand the culture that Cubans
should already be familiar with, according to the exhibition text.
The
final room offered individual looks at contemporary artists who have
ostensibly broken out onto the international scene, like Belkis Ayón
and Ibrahim Miranda. The monumental six foot tall collagraphs by Ayón,
who died in 1999, are stunning examples of where Cuban artistic
expression is moving—more audacious and more deeply examining the roots
of their religions. His work was largely based on stories of the Abakuà
society that Ayón was a part of and which descends from a brotherhood
with origins in Nigeria’s Cross River area. They are dark works that
envelop the viewer and peer out with bright eyes surrounded by objects
that are themselves barely seen. Moving out of the spiritual into a
reality-based world, Ibrahim Miranda visually maps the land of Cuba,
effacing the image of his native land to “blot out the physical image
we are accustomed to” and to create something visually new at the same
time.
As an
endpoint, Miranda’s work is almost too succinct. The exhibition does
offer a comprehensive exploration of what is visually new, based on the
religions and history of Cuba. But it also upholds a sinister past of
demarcating the Other through the objectification of Cuban festival
dancers. A topic that clearly should have been more intensely explained
visually than it was, I wish I could blot it out. Describing a rich
history of politics, religious belief and artistic development, there
is much to commend in AfroCuba,
illustrating as it does much of the young talent that is now emerging
and the forebears who made it possible. It is just a pity that the
show’s controversy had to come from a Carnival that is so festive and
so inherently Cuban.
The
exhibition, beginning at the San Francisco State University Gallery in
2006, was accompanied by an 88 page full color catalog (Seattle:
University of Washington Press, 2005) and, after closing in
Indianapolis, continues on at the Sturgis Library Gallery of Kennesaw
State University in Georgia and the Lowe Art Museum in South Miami,
Florida.
Edward
M. Puchner is Curatorial Assistant for Western Art after 1800 at the
Indiana University Art Museum and a doctoral student in art history at
Indiana University. His research currently focuses on African American
yard shows and the art of assemblage.