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Artivistas. El Arte del Muralismo - Nikolay Shamaniko

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Imágenes en color de la Guerra Civil Española

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Being a mural artist that often uses spraypaint, I have noticed that a lot of people seem to be confused by the terms " graffiti", " mural" and " street art". That's understandable; we live in a confusing world, language is fluid, and art is subjective. However this is something I have spent too long thinking about, so I thought I'd run down the way that I personally categorise the many permutations of "paint on a wall" that you might encounter.

There is a lot of overlap in the three definitions, but I have noticed that the terms are either used interchangeably, or are used to praise one form at the expense of the others - either " this is street art, much better than that ugly graffiti", or " that's not real graffiti, it's in a legal spot, may as well call it a mural ", and all arguments in between.

This is how I define the three terms;

As we all know, graffiti is usually created without permission, and mostly involves letter-based tags and pieces, sometimes with characters / backgrounds as well. Some people consider the more aggressively territorial components of graffiti (especially tagging) as more of a sport, as it is based on claiming an area, 'getting up', and taking out work by any rival crews / writers. (Extra definitions: a ' tag' is simply names written with single lines, a ' throw up' / ' throwie' is usually bubble letters, often with one colour for the fill and another for the outline, a ' piece' is painted with three or more colours, often with a background, a character or other elements, and a ' production ' is a wall with a number of pieces by different artists that often have a common colour scheme / theme to them.)

Graffiti is predominantly painted with spraycans, but it is also created with marker pens, paint rollers, etching tools, fire extinguishers and other (mis)appropriated hardware. A major element of graffiti is the aspect of anonymity. As a direct result of the illegal nature of graffiti, the artists traditionally work under pseudonyms. Tags were often composed of longer words (e.g. Cornbread), then in the 70s and 80s shorter names (usually up to 5-6 letters) became more popular, for the obvious reason that they could be written faster. Some people believe that letters are essential for a piece to even be considered graffiti, and others believe it also has to be created illegally to fit their personal definition.
Murals
Murals have been around for as long as humans have been living inside shelters. From carved walls in Egypt and mosaic works in Ancient Greece, to frescos in the Renaissance era, through to the political murals of the mid-20th century as seen in Latin America or Ireland.

Stylistically a mural will typically cover the entire wall, top to bottom. They are painted with permission, the artists are usually paid to paint the wall. They are usually signed with the artist's real name, but that has changed, thanks to...
Street Art
I usually date the period of street art - when it was hitting peak popularity - as running from 1999 - when Banksy painted the first piece in his signature 'stencil' style (' Mild Mild West') - to 2008, when Shepard Fairey designed the ' HOPE ' poster for Obama's presidential campaign; I'd say that piece marked the ultimate absorption into the mainstream of this previously underground, mildly rebellious art movement.

Now, a decade on, Banksy is seen as, well, trite - if you do a Google image search for "banksy style wall transfer" you find thousands of companies producing generic knockoffs of his work, not to mention the countless stencil artists creating vaguely political works in an identical style. You can also find a thousand pithy sayings with a stencilled figure next to them all over Facebook which are incorrectly credited to him. Doing a similar search for, say, " shepard fairey style " will throw up a million corny iterations of his HOPE poster.

The style of street art, on the other hand, encompasses a diverse range of works and mediums, and is still an evolving aspect of mural art, graffiti, and the public consciousness as a whole.

Generally the imagery can be seen as originating in the lowbrow / pop surrealism art movement (which in turn has roots in the graffiti, surrealism, comics, pop art and psychedelic art of the 20th century), and - much like graffiti - pieces are rendered in public spaces using stencils, spraypaint, acrylic paint, stickers and a range of other appropriated mediums ( yarn, plastic cups, etc etc). Works are typically presented anonymously, or signed with a pseudonym - the graffiti influence often comes through in the choice of names, with a focus on short, punchy words - but, to be honest, a lot of modern street art is essentially mural work created for free. (If you're lucky you'll get free paint, maybe some food and / or petrol vouchers as well.)

The style has, of course, been swallowed up by capitalism, which now poops out grungy "street art inspired" products that you can pay through the nose for. The revolution will be commodified!

(Confession: personally, I hate it when my art is described as 'Street Art'. Hatehate hate it. I imagine it's like being a musician who plays experimental folk-punk, and then your album is described in the media as "guitar music". It's a vague term that primarily describes the tools you use to create your art, and doesn't connect you directly to any particular historical strands of creative thinking.

The problem is... well, it's accurate. I do paint public artworks in the street, and I do use spraycans and stencils to paint whimsical characters, with a strong pop culture influence - which is a fancy way of saying "I copied it from a picture I found online". But holy shit I still hate the term. It seems to suck any deeper meanings out of my artistic creations, relegating them to Instagram fodder created for Likes and not much else.

Because of my ego-driven disdain of the term, I'll try and avoid it when describing my own work. If you ask me what I do, I'll usually reply that I'm an artist who often paints murals and public art. This isn't a very descriptive explanation either, but I think it best describes the odd pigeonhole I have found myself in.)

In conclusion: they're all entirely valid forms of art, and I should stop splitting hairs. And get back to painting. 🙂

P.

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'Mural' vs. 'Graffiti' vs. 'Street Art': my definitions. - paul walsh

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Being a mural artist that often uses spraypaint, I have noticed that a lot of people seem to be confused by the terms " graffiti", " mural" and " street art". That's understandable; we live in a confusing world, language is fluid, and art is subjective.

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Perspectivas culturales

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Last year, Robbie Robertson played "The Weight" with musicians around the world, including Ringo Starr, Japanese guitar virtuoso Char, Congo soul singer Mermens Mosengo, and others. It's been streamed more than 8 million times on YouTube. Many of those streams happened in the past month; Mark Johnson, co-founder of Playing for Change, who made the video, suspects it became "a tool for people in isolation."

For their first video since "The Weight," Johnson and his team chose the Cuban classic " Chan Chan," popularized by Buena Vista Social Club in 1997. Johnson has recorded music in more than 50 countries with Playing for Change, which has 15 music schools across 11 countries. "There's just a few songs that you hear performed all over the world on the street. One of them is Bob Marley's ' Three Little Birds.' And another one is 'Chan Chan.' I've just heard it sung in so many cultures, usually when I'm traveling to Spanish-speaking countries. So we thought, 'Well, why don't we try to take this track from Cuba, and go around the world and add musicians? Because we knew it's a song that people sing, sort of as an anthem all over the world." Johnson and his team started in Cuba, tracking down local legends such as Teté Caturla Garcia and Pancho Amat, before traveling everywhere from the U.S. to Mali to Lebanon to finish the track.

Here, Johnson talks about the extremely lucky circumstance that led them to scoring a Cuban guitar legend, why he took a risk on traveling to Beirut for the video, and more.

The video is almost shot like a movie.
Yeah, this one was a little more cinematic. It's kind of the nature of the song. It was an exciting song to take around the world.

How did it come together?
Basically, you know, all of our videos are about connecting people, and showing how music transcends the things that divide us in life, like politics and borders. The idea here is for people to just look at how well we all get along when the music plays. So that was the theme here for "Chan Chan."

A few years ago, I worked with Jackson Browne when he produced a version of " Guantanamera" around the world. That song had featured like 70 Cuban musicians living in different parts of the world, and uniting them all back together through a song. It gave me a much deeper understanding of the amazing music and the culture that comes from Cuba. And so "Chan Chan" was really an extension of that experience, and wanting to work on a project that starts in Cuba: "OK, let's take a great song from Cuba. Let's add all different musical instruments from different cultures and unite them all together." So the Cuban tres, sort of theirCuban guitar; a Middle Eastern oud, the Middle Eastern guitar; and then a kora in West Africa - combining all these different elements kind of helps take the song to another level, and introduces all these different instruments and shows the world how well they work together.

Who was the first artist you called?
It was amazing. We went to Cuba with the crew, and we had no real plan as to who we were going to record. But we did know about the first musician you see in the video, his name is Pancho Amat and he is a living legend considered to be the greatest tres player in the world. And so our dream was to find Pancho, and we went to Cuba, and we couldn't find him. We were trying and trying, and nobody could get ahold of him. And one day, we're literally walking down a side street in Havana, and there's Pancho walking into a cafe. So we just went in there, we introduced ourselves to him and his wife. We explained what Playing for Change is all about. And within a few hours, we were set up in a plaza, recording and filming him on the tres. So it was really sort of serendipity and destiny. Once we had Pancho playing the song, we knew musicians around the world would love to play on it. And it also really kind of captured that Cuban magic that we wanted to start this track.

Tell me about Teté Caturla Garcia, who is so great when she starts singing.
Yeah, she was 78 years young when we filmed her on that balcony in Havana, and I have chills every time I hear her sing. She's just one of the best singers I've ever heard. But also it's her energy, her feeling of joy, that comes through the track. You just feel this invitation to come and join her on the journey. In all my years of recording music, she's one of the greatest singers and people I've ever met. It's such an honor to work with her. The joy of life comes through her voice, and it lifts us all up to a place where we can see how music connects hearts and humanity around the world. So between having her and Pancho, we knew we were off to a great start. And so that really gave us the foundation from which to build and create a song around the world.

Is she still singing?
Yeah, she's still singing. And she's a legend there. The thing about Cuba is when you go there, there's so much joy intrinsic in the culture. And I don't know that a lot of the world knows that because of politics. So when you see all of that joy, it's infectious. And it reminds you of the spirit of music and community, and just making people's lives better day by day through songs. She represents that at one of the highest levels. And the thing about "Chan Chan" is that some of the videos we've done, they're really big ensembles. You can add choirs and string sections and stuff. For this song, we wanted to take a more-subtle approach. Because it was more about the power of what each person was playing and singing individually, and then how that collectively could transcend into something bigger than themselves.

On your first trip to Cuba, where you recorded Pancho, who were you there to see at the time? We were there to just start to record some new songs around the world. And we didn't know who we were going to find. We did hire a musical guide. And then they introduced us to everybody. In this case, it was the piano player, Roberto Carcassés. He is a really great Cuban piano player and really dialed into the scene there. Roberto was the guy who set us up with a lot of the other musicians. And that kind of gave us the traditional Cuban feel that we were looking for. I had heard something about Buena Vista Social Club originally wanting to incorporate Afro musicians, so it was more of an Afro-Cuban project, but that never happened. So I felt like, "Listen, we have a music school in the village of Kirina, where some of the best [kora] players in the world come from. So we knew we'd have a chance to go add some incredible West African musicians. So after Cuba, we went to visit our school in Mali, and that's when we were able to add Mamadou Diabaté on the kora. And that's when the video really started to become a Playing for Change project, where it was now not about just a traditional culture, but about merging cultures.

The other thing that happened was the Playing for Change Band - we were booked on a gig in Lebanon, in Beirut. And I remember going to the website,to check whether you could travel there, and it was like a flashing red light: "Don't travel there." You know, it's always like that. And we have to represent and take care of all these musicians. So we want to have their safety. But we talked to the promoter, and he said, "Listen, people come here all the time and play concerts - it's really safe." So we decided to bring the whole band. And that was an amazing experience, because it just shows you how fear is the enemy. Because if you break through the fear, the next thing you know, we're all having dinner in a house, with little kids climbing on the table. And it's just like you're at home, but you're in Beirut, Lebanon. And while we were there, we were able to meet this amazing oud master, and the oud is sort of serving the Middle East version of the Cuban tres in Cuba. So it was sort of an opportunity to go to these places that really people don't know much about, like Cuba is stereotyped for its politics, just like Lebanon and Beirut. But when you get into it, the music, the people all over the world, they're all the same. You want peace and families and a good life. And so these songs give us an opportunity to travel to these places.

And so you have some of these tracks ready to go, like, the basic tracks that you can just decide to put someone on if you like what they're doing?
Yeah, we usually travel with multiple songs at the same time, so that we can find a best way to succeed with each artist based on where would they best fit.

How is the original track made? Does your Playing for Change Band record the basic track that you then add on to?
No, I think "Chan Chan" was started by Roberto on the piano. First thing we recorded was the piano, and then the tres the next day. So the tres player would just hear the piano player. And then the next musician would just hear whoever was before them. And then slowly over time, it builds. And one of the coolest parts of "Chan Chan" from Buena Vista is the trumpet solo. To me, it was one of the greatest trumpet solos I'd ever heard. So I really didn't want to try to re-create that because it's already there. And that's when we thought about New Orleans, where you can also have some of the great horn players in the world, but they also play with the mute. So you could create a really cool, sort-of Louis Armstrong horn vibe. Many years ago, when we first started Playing for Change, back in 2000, we made a film called A Cinematic Discovery of Street Musicians. And I had filmed an 11-year-old boy, he was a virtuoso trumpet player. His name is Chantz Powell. He was 11 years old. And he was just performing on the street to make money for him and his mom. And he was amazing. He ended up going on and getting a huge record deal. I had never heard from him, for about 15 years. And then when it came time to thinking about the trumpet solo, I just remembered him: "I wonder what he's doing?" So I reached out to chance, and he was in New Orleans. So the crew and I went down there, put headphones on him, and had him play the solo with the mute and playing it with so much soul and a lot of space - he really just kind of took the track to the next level. So again, it's just about kind of living inside each of these songs, and trying to figure out how we can add different musicians and create something that's got a global human feel to it.

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Watch Cuban Music Legends Play 'Chan Chan' With Players Around the World

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Last year, Robbie Robertson played "The Weight" with musicians around the world, including Ringo Starr, Japanese guitar virtuoso Char, Congo soul singer Mermens Mosengo, and others. It's been streamed more than 8 million times on YouTube.

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English National Ballet is delicately tip-toeing in on the live-streaming act. The world-class ballet company has launched ENB at Home, and as part of the streaming series, it will be releasing a production a week for its 'Wednesday Watch Parties'.

Each Wednesday will see a fresh dance performance broadcast on ENB's Facebook and YouTube channels, available to stream for free for 48 hours. The first one to air, on Wednesday April 22, is Frida Kahlo-inspired production 'Broken Wings', starring lead principal (and ENB artistic director) Tamara Rojo as the painter.

Choreographed by Annabelle Lopez Ochoa, the piece tells the tale of the Mexican artist's tortured life. It was recorded at Sadler's Wells in London in 2016, when ENB put on a series of shows dedicated to female choreography. Rojo appears opposite Irek Mukhamedov, who plays the role of Kahlo's husband and fellow artist Diego Rivera.

The subsequent Wednesday Watch Party will showcase Akram Khan's 'Dust', a 2015 ballet focusing on the role of women during World War I.

More of the streaming programme will be revealed in due course, and in the meantime, English National Ballet - whose London home in Canning Town is currently closed, and whose forthcoming performances at Sadler's Wells and the Southbank Centre have been postponed - is also running online ballet classes for its fans at home.
Check out classes and performances on ENB's Facebook page and YouTube channel. Find more amazing theatre, dance and opera streaming right now. Check out the Royal Ballet's leaping live-stream line-up.

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English National Ballet is streaming Frida Kahlo ballet 'Broken Wings' for free

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English National Ballet is delicately tip-toeing in on the live-streaming act. The world-class ballet company has launched ENB at Home, and as part of the streaming series, it will be releasing a production a week for its 'Wednesday Watch Parties'.

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Mural de Tlacolulokos en Tlacolula de Matamoros (Oaxaca). Colectivo Tlacolulokos

A mediados de este año que ahora acaba, la diseñadora Carolina Herrera presentó una colección de vestidos inspirados en los diseños textiles de los pueblos indígenas mexicanos, que se sintieron plagiados y mostraron públicamente una indignación que, como todo hoy en día, dio la vuelta al mundo en unas horas. "Lo indio está de moda, el buen salvaje es bonito", dice con sorna el artista Darío Canul, zapoteco por parte de madre y maya por vía paterna. Y no anda desencaminado. Sin que pueda precisarse el origen de un fenómeno así, sin duda han influido factores como el turismo globalizado; un mundo occidental gastado que busca nuevos valores en aquellas poblaciones que los encarnan; la vuelta a la naturaleza como combate al cambio climático; o quizá un gesto de rebeldía hacia la igualdad que ya inició el movimiento zapatista en 1994. A este resurgir de lo originario se ha sumado con fuerza el actual presidente de México, Andrés Manuel López Obrador, que presenta su mandato con ínfulas de cambio histórico y coronó su toma de posesión con una ceremonia prehispánica en el corazón indígena de México. No es extraño que ahora le toque al arte, con su vocación de intervención en el espacio público y político, traer a la actualidad la plástica de los pueblos indígenas.

La sociedad mexicana también está transitando el camino que ya recorrieron otros países, como Australia y Canadá en los noventa, para traer a la luz el arte de sus pueblos y equipararlo con el canon occidental imperante. "En México hubo algún acercamiento en los años 50, con Frida Kahlo y Diego Rivera, pero muy medido, sin evolución artística. México todavía no se ha incorporado a una narrativa compleja que permita la entrada de ciertas prácticas indígenas al corpus del arte. Australia tiene grandes colecciones y en Canadá hay toda una retórica del arte contemporáneo indígena", dice Helena Chávez, del Instituto de Investigaciones Estéticas de la UNAM.

Las Vanguardias también volvieron la mirada a lo más antiguo para hacerlo moderno pero siempre fue una mirada apropiacionista. Ahora, sin embargo, hay una nueva generación de artistas mayas, zapotecos, tsotsiles, lacandones o de cualquier otra población que se sienten artistas, que han pasado por escuelas de arte, algunos, que reinterpretan los símbolos, que intervienen políticamente con sus obras, que no tienen más vocación que la belleza, o que buscan la genialidad. Y aquí se abre un nuevo frente con la forma de entender el arte de los pueblos originarios, que reivindican una práctica comunitaria, compartida, lejos del canon occidental: el genio de un autor único.

Darío Canul es fundador con Cosijosea Sernas del colectivo Tlacolulokos, un proyecto artístico "anticapitalista, punk y antifascista" que reivindica una forma de relación con el arte que nada tiene que ver con los mercados actuales. Ellos viven en Tlacolula de Matamoros, de 30.000 habitantes, una pequeña ciudad rodeada de comunidades originarias. Canul rechaza la solo idea de bajar a la capital del Estado, Oaxaca, porque prefiere el contacto con la gente de pueblo. Sin embargo, han viajado con sus rompedores murales a Lille (Francia), donde sembraron la polémica, o a Los Ángeles. Eso suena muy moderno: "Sí, es una línea muy delgada", reconoce Canul. Formalmente, su arte es tan actual como lo que expresa.

Canul no reserva las críticas solo para el capitalismo. Acusa fríamente a algunos indígenas de adorar el turismo como al becerro de oro, de "vender el universo indígena de forma hipócrita". "Ellos mismos se exotizan en ocasiones, se ponen sus guaraches y su rebozo cuando nunca los han usado".

Ana Hernández con su reinterpretación de jícara. EVA LEPIZ

La también artista Ana Hernández defiende sin fisuras las prácticas de las comunidades originarias, su forma de acercarse al arte, colectiva, compartida. Ella es "zapoteca del istmo de Tehuantepec". La palabra indígena le "hace ruido" y lo mismo si le preguntan por la división entre arte y artesanía: no ve una frontera, aunque ella es el ejemplo de que existe. Hernández trabaja el textil y reinterpreta como artista objetos cotidianos. Pero lo hace, defiende, como se trabaja en esos pueblos, "buscando la opinión y la intervención de su madre, su suegra, sus primas, las vecinas", aunque están a seis horas de ella, porque vive en Oaxaca. "Mi trabajo parte de mi familia y de las técnicas tradicionales de mi pueblo".

Sin folclore

Tlacolulokos y Hernández participaron en la exposición colectiva Los Huecos del Agua, en el museo mexicano del Chopo, inaugurada en mayo. La curadora fue Itzel Vargas Plata, quien se cuidó mucho de hablar de arte contemporáneo, un concepto occidental que cambió por arte actual de los pueblos originarios (la denominación indígena tampoco le gusta por su carga política, por ser la descripción que usa el extranjero para referirse a los pueblos originarios, que no se nombran de ese modo). También quiso evitar el antiguo debate entre arte y artesanía y simplemente pidió "obras de gente que se asumiera como artista". Ella eligió "aquellas a partir de las cuales se puede repensar el trabajo del artista en interacción con un presente complejo, sin idealizar ni folclorizar". La selección final hablaba de drogas, tráfico de armas, lingüicidio, elementos perdidos y la heterogeneidad era absoluta.

Esta exposición mostraba un arte de procedencia indígena que no estaba en el pasado, sino que ha evolucionado con los tiempos. ¿O acaso es solo una incorporación espuria al canon occidental? Son, como dice Darío Canul, líneas muy delgadas. El camino a seguir, sostiene Vargas, debe ser una "investigación constante sobre estos artistas e incluirlos en colecciones con todos los demás, porque pueden dialogar con ellos".

El 7 de diciembre se abrió en la capital mexicana la exposición Abusos de las formas, en el Museo Carrillo Gil, cuyo curador es Mauricio Marcín. "Yo trataba de exponer un arte que busca lo inédito, nuevas fuentes donde abrevar y, como hicieron en las Vanguardias, a veces se encuentra lo nuevo en lo antiguo. Una cosa es apropiarse de ello y otra tratarlo de forma crítica, sin ánimo extractivista". Marcín está señalando otro de los ángulos de este debate, el que remite a la colección de moda de Carolina Herrera o a cualquier otro que "vende" a mejor precio y sin rendir cuentas el trabajo de los artesanos indígenas durante siglos.

Artesanía reinterpretada

¿Acaso la artesanía no puede reinterpretarse desde un punto de vista artístico? No siempre es fácil, porque algunos artistas no ven línea divisoria alguna y les molesta la sola mención de dos mundos distintos. Para Mauricio Marcín, ambos conceptos tienen que ver con una noción colonial, es decir, impuesta. Sabe que el debate no es solo de México, que en todo el mundo la artesanía convive con el arte y muestra diferencias que él mismo explica detalladamente. "La artesanía se crea originalmente para tener un uso: función y belleza no estaban disociados. El arte nace para ser bello, en todo caso su función, su uso, podría ser la producción de conocimiento simbólico". Después, añade, todo se complicó y algunos de estos objetos artesanales saltaron al museo y se les puso en vitrinas.

"Yo creo que hay que privilegiar el buen trabajo y no agarrar todo y meterlo en una vitrina. A veces, debido a esa noción de lo incluyente, de incluir al marginado, no se busca lo bueno, sino llenar la vitrina de cosas", dice Darío Canul.

¿No será esto lo que está haciendo el actual gobierno mexicano? Llenar las vitrinas, romper las líneas entre el arte y la artesanía. Si es así, cabe preguntarse si eso es bueno o malo, dada la diversidad de opiniones al respecto. "Creo que aún rige la alta cultura frente a la cultura popular, hay que poner en cuestión la narrativa, que también en México sigue siendo occidental, con todas las influencias europeas y estadounidenses. Debemos repensar una noción de cultura más amplia", sostiene Helena Chávez. El artista mexicano Eduardo Abaroa, añade: "No estamos en contra del trayecto cultural, del devenir cultural de los pueblos originarios, ni de la contaminación cultural, sino de la violencia manifiesta del empujón", el extractivismo.

Aunque en ocasiones, ese empujón lo recibe el propio artista indígena de sus paisanos, porque sale del comunitarismo y se desarrolla como artista moderno: es decir, único. Darío Canul se muestra de acuerdo. Tlakolulokos lo ha sufrido en carnes propias, aunque, en su caso, por poner en cuestión la religión, los símbolos, ciertos rituales de los pueblos originarios. Canul sigue repartiendo culpas: "Ahora todo lo indio está de moda y bajo los reflectores, pero no es tan bonito vivir en una comunidad, no vale ir un rato y hacer unos dibujitos. Allí también hay mucho machismo y mucha discriminación... Y los artistas tenemos una responsabilidad como creadores".

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El arte de los indígenas mexicanos mira al futuro

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A mediados de este año que ahora acaba, la diseñadora Carolina Herrera presentó una colección de vestidos inspirados en los diseños textiles de los pueblos indígenas mexicanos, que se sintieron plagiados y mostraron públicamente una indignación que, como todo hoy en día, dio la vuelta al mundo en unas horas.

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When Afro-Cuban artist Harmonia Rosales re-imagined Michelangelo's Creation of Adam as the Creation of God and painted both God and the first 'Man' as black women, it left the world shaking in its Eurocentric narratives.

Michelangelo wasn't the only classical artist whose work was re-imagined by the hands of Rosales. The artist tackled Leonardo Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man and re-imagined it as the Virtuous Woman as well as Sandro Botticelli's Birth of Venus re-imagined as the Birth of Oshun, the Yoruba river deity.

In an interview with Dazed, Rosales explains the reasoning behind her re-creations of these classical renaissance paintings: "I wanted to take a significant painting, a widely recognised painting that subconsciously or consciously conditions us to see white male figures as powerful and authoritative and flip the script, establish a counter-narrative."

She argues that when one looks at classical art, the white figure is dominant throughout the various eras of the medium. The world imagined by these classical artists only comprised of pale, male bodies. This is a trend Rosales was not willing to continue. "When you consider that all human life came out of Africa, the Garden of Eden and all, then it only makes sense to paint God as a black woman, sparking life in her own image," says Rosales.

While some praised the Afro-Cuban artist for her bold interpretations, many slammed her art, calling it "disgusting", "disrespectful" and a "desecration of a masterpiece". The backlash, while deterring her just for a moment, encouraged her to keep going, to keep engaging in these kinds of conversations.

"It's inspiring because whether the comments are negative or positive it creates dialogue and provokes thought. I learn from the comments. We are all still learning who we are and how we define ourselves," says Rosales.

Re-creating narratives with people of colour at the forefront stems from attitudes towards her own race while growing up. Being Afro-Cuban and having a lighter skin tone led to many people questioning her race. She therefore paints the subjects in her art a lot darker so that it leaves no room for people to question where they are from.

Her work focuses on many classical stories, narratives and mythologies. Her new exhibit, titled New World Consciousness, looks at the duality between the Virgin Mary and Eve. "By making The Virgin Mary and Eve one woman...[I] explore how this one woman represents all of us because we all are perfectly imperfect. By presenting Eve in the same light as we give The Virgin Mary, we begin to accept Eve and her non-conformity as we relate to her through our own journeys of life," says Rosales.

She adds that her new show is an extension of the narrative and message that she has been trying to spread and to get people to engage with. The work that she creates is rooted in the question of "Why have we allowed a continuously manipulated society dictate who is superior in beauty and power?"

"By creating positive works of art using black women, the complete opposite from which we were used to seeing, we can begin to deconstruct our power structure," says Rosales.

Read more:
SA artist uses cow dung to explore questions on perception and aesthetics Constant, a photo series on pain, love and healing Alexis Peskine explores the black experience through unconventional mediums

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Harmonia Rosales is creating new narratives around the classic art paintings | Design Indaba

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When Afro-Cuban artist Harmonia Rosales re-imagined Michelangelo's Creation of Adam as the Creation of God and painted both God and the first 'Man' as black women, it left the world shaking in its Eurocentric narratives. Michelangelo wasn't the only classical artist whose work was re-imagined by the hands of Rosales.

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Una visionaria de la artesanía colombiana

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Elaboración de Artesanias Wayuu - TvAgro por Juan Gonzalo Angel

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El músico J. Balvin explicó una pintura del artista colombiano Fernando Botero en un video para la nueva edición de la serie Art Zoom de Google Arts & Culture.

En un discurso que intercala inglés y español, J. Balvin aborda su interpretación de la pieza "20 de Julio". El músico va más allá de los colores alegres, arroja luz sobre los rostros sombríos de los personajes del cuadro -los de un pueblo desgarrado por la violencia del narcotráfico - y señala el papel del arte como espacio seguro en tiempos oscuros.

"Why does no one seem to be happy? Porque esta pintura exhibe tristeza. Botero painted in 1984, and the city here is probably Medellín, donde operó el cártel de Pablo Escobar. The people were executed or kidnapped by narcos en Colombia".

En este pequeño video de menos de 4 minutos, José inicia con una alusión a su disco Colores, un material en el que cada canción y video fueron conceptualizados a partir de un color, pero rápidamente desplaza sus palabras hacia la recreación de parte de la historia colombiana a partir de una pintura.

"Yo era un niño en ese momento. Medellín was the most dangerous city in the world. Botero's painting can often seem naive or humorísticas, but many de sus obras tienen un mensaje político".

El video fue lanzado el 15 de septiembre y aquí te dejamos el enlace de YouTube.

Balvin no fue el único convocado para hablar de arte. FKA Twigs forma parte de este proyecto sobre arte y hablará de María Magdalena en éxtasis, de Artemisia Gentileschi. Luego, se suma a Matty Healy que explicará la obra Grande composizione A con nero, rosso, grigio, giallo e blu'0, de Piet Mondrian.

Grimes también forma parte del proyecto. Fue convocada para hablar sobre La caída de los ángeles rebeldes de Pieter Brueghel, el Viejo. Se trata de una visión apocalíptica pero cómica de los monstruos que invaden la Tierra mientras los ángeles luchan por ahuyentarlos. Podría ser, tranquilamente, algo que cuente en cualquiera de sus discos.

Cierra la experiencia de serie Art Zoom de Google Arts & Culture la cantante del grupo coreano Twice, Chaeyoung, con su crítica a Mountain de Yoo Youngkuk.

¿Quién es Fernando Botero?

Botero es un pintor colombiano que nació en Medellín en 1932, la misma ciudad donde nació Balvin. Comenzó su carrera en el mundo del arte a fines de los años 40 y actualmente es uno de los pintores más reconocidos, a nivel mundial, de América Latina. Su estilo es muy conocido: son pinturas de colores vivos, figurativas y donde las personas siempre son grandes y redondas.

Botero no se dedica solo a la pintura. Él trabaja con distintos materiales y también con distintas disciplinas. Además de pintor, es escultor y también dibujante. Muchas de sus obras están en colecciones de museos latinoamericanos y también del mundo. Por ejemplo: en el MoMA de Nueva York, en el Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes de Buenos Aires, el Museo de Antioquia en Medellín y la colección de la Universidad de California.

Su carrera en el arte lo llevó a vivir en distintos lugares del mundo. Botero desarrolló sus obras mientras vivió en Nueva York, Italia, México y también en Colombia. Ahora, él vive en París junto a su esposa, la artista griega Sophia Vari.

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J. Balvin nos explica la obra de Fernando Botero

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El músico J. Balvin explicó una pintura del artista colombiano Fernando Botero en un video para la nueva edición de la serie Art Zoom de Google Arts & Culture. En un discurso que intercala inglés y español, J. Balvin aborda su interpretación de la pieza "20 de Julio".

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Un pequeño homenaje a la "Capilla Sixtina mexicana" de Michoacán.

. . .

Nurio es una población michoacana que se encuentra en Meseta Tarasca que sobre sale entre todos los pueblos de la región por el templo dedicado a Santiago Apóstol edificado en el siglo XVI y que representa el fino trabajo purépecha de la región.

La construcción de la iglesia presenta la influencia arquitectónica árabe por sus techumbres de madera, en vigas inclinadas, conocidas como alfardas y el estilo mudéjar que hizo juego perfecto con el trabajo en madera que realizan los purépechas.

Detrás del templo y en seguida, se encuentra el yuritzio, "el lugar consagrado de Nuestra Señora", que no es sino la Capilla de la Inmaculada Concepción, presente en todos los pueblos purépechas y cuenta con pequeños retablos churriguerescos, biombos, imágenes de santos y un atesorado poblado de ángeles, santos y emblemas de la letanía lauretana.

Los templos construidos en la región purépecha suelen tener la misma estructura interna, se tratan de bellas pinturas que, por tradición, debían representar la Santísima Trinidad y cada una de sus tres personas, a la Virgen María en sus diversas advocaciones, los ángeles y los santos.

También por tradición y por su objetivo evangelizador, las decoraciones de los templos debían representar pasajes bíblicos o conceptos de la fe católica, no obstante, no todos pestos eran fáciles de reproducir, tal es el caso de la adoración.

La joya calcinada presentaba un artesonado de madera, su cubierta era de corteza de pino -en la zona llamado tejamanil- y las cubiertas de teja de barro, se descubrió en algún momento que parte de las pinturas fueron tapadas con cal, quizá por menguar la posibilidad de los robos.

A diferencia de otras obras, este artesonado representaba la armonía con un coro celestial, la adoración a Dios por medio de la música, dentro de un cosmos nuevo para los pueblos originarios, donde habitaban ángeles de diferentes rangos y aspectos.

Conforme a la tradición, en el templo debió existir una representación del santo al cual se debe la advocación del templo, pero este es una excepción, ya que solo se encuentran las imágenes de dos religiosos y cientos de rosetones con ángeles.

El coro celestial se encontraba sobre la puerta de entrada del templo, cubriendo todo el cielo raso con ángeles que ya bien se encontraban cantando o tañendo un instrumento musical en diferentes secciones que asemejaban una gran orquesta.

Aunque no se sabe con certeza quien lo pintó, se sospecha que quizá es el único de los artesonados de la región que fue pintado por un español, esto pudo deberse a que en este templo asistían purépechas de alto rango.

Los hijos de esta alta sociedad recibieron una mejor educación musical por haber aprendido un instrumento, a diferencia del resto del pueblo, que sólo recibía clases de canto de la doctrina, se dice que después de algún tiempo la ejecución de instrumentos se había extendido tanto que las autoridades trataron deponer un freno.

Aquel lugar etéreo entre nubes que fue representado en el desaparecido artesano tuvo como finalidad un discurso evangelizador que quería invitar a los feligreses a la oración la alabanza, trascendió en una de las más maravillosas obras de arte de la conquista.

Iglesia de Santiago Nurio

Dónde: Calle 4, Nurio, Mich.

Cuando: todo el año
Entrada libre
Foto destacada Visita Michoacán

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La gran influencia del muralismo mexicano en el arte estadounidense

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. Nurio es una población michoacana que se encuentra en Meseta Tarasca que sobre sale entre todos los pueblos de la región por el templo dedicado a Santiago Apóstol edificado en el siglo XVI y que representa el fino trabajo purépecha de la región.

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Si bien Joel Merino saltó a la fama en 2013, en realidad desde que estudiaba en la secundaria (entrando el siglo XXI) ya hacía murales y arte público sin imaginar que aquellos trazos lo llevarían a cruzar fronteras y recorrer Europa difundiendo su cultura. Él quiere ser una ventana de los pueblos originarios para darlos a conocer, ya que de ellos se habla poco o nada.

Aquí te contamos lo que Joel Merino nos relató sobre una de sus obras emblemáticas que forman parte de un proyecto de murales en Puerto Escondido. Su pieza se llama Xcua'anj, que quiere decir Abuela en triqui, pueblo originario al que él pertenece.

Eduardo Amaro

En entrevista exclusiva para México Desconocido, este artista de 31 años nos comentó sobre sus orígenes:

"Soy originario de San Juan Copala, del municipio de Santiago Juxtlahuaca, Oaxaca. Pinto desde niño, siempre he tenido la inquietud y la aptitud, incluso de hacer artesanías, principalmente. Mis papás son artesanos: mi mamá, textil; mi papá, joyero. Desde niño tengo esa relación con el arte, en general; considero que la artesanía es arte también".

De manera simultánea Joel ha desarrollado su destreza artesanal con la experimentación de su pintura urbana. Él se mira en redescubrimiento. Este movimiento constante lo ha llevado a trabajar con graffiti y otros materiales hasta encontrar en el mural una manera de expresión en la que él comunica sus inquietudes de identidad y defensa de los pueblos originarios.

Eduardo Amaro

Sobre el mural de María Sabina, nos dio un panorama de lo que significa para los pueblos originarios, ya que él se ha interesado a lo largo de su carrera en el rescate de la lengua y de los usos, costumbres y valores locales:

"Para nosotros, el adulto mayor es importante, no es alguien que es desechado, como en las ciudades; al contrario: consideramos que traen la historia de nuestro pueblo, nos comparten el legado, nos enseñan las actitudes, las formas de pensar, la cosmogonía. Son parte esencial en las ceremonias y en cómo nos enseñan todo".

Redescubrir los pueblos originarios y su lengua es el elemento de identidad con el que ha comulgado Joel Merino y es el elemento que conecta con su obra mural y artesanal.

"María Sabina era parte de un pueblo originario. Y es una de las personas más importantes de Oaxaca en general".

Eduardo Amaro Eduardo Amaro

El mural se llama Xcua'anj (abuela en triqui) y representa un homenaje a las abuelas y María Sabina era, sin duda, una Abuela (con mayúsculas) por el nivel de conocimiento que transmitió a través del uso de hongos y herbolaria mexicana. Anclando su figura como el arquetipo de abuela fue que creó este mural que ahora podrás ver en Puerto Escondido. La obra la realizó en el marco del Festival ArteTinujei, cuya primera edición fue 2018 y se pintaron 12 murales en total de diferentes artistas.

La técnica es pintura acrílica y la base rugosa representó un reto y le tomó ejecutarla alrededor de 10 días; sin embargo, realizar el concepto y boceto toma mucho tiempo.

"Está dedicado a las abuelas. Al final uno como artista trata de impregnar un poco de uno mismo, pero también como es una obra pública, también tratas de preocuparte por lo que puedan percibir las demás personas".

En estos destinos de México podrás ver murales de Javier Merino y conocer sobre la identidad del pueblo triqui:

Ciudad de México

Tijuana

Querétaro

Oaxaca

Veracruz

Cancún

Playa del Carmen

En Europa, hay muros pintados por Joel Merino en Suecia, Alemania, Italia, Francia, Bélgica, Japón, China, Uruguay. Sin embargo, no sólo hace murales, ha logrado exponer en galerías en otras latitudes.

"El arte puede estar en las calles"

Pintar desde el pueblo para el pueblo, considerando la calle como el espacio público donde transcurre la vida y en el que la gente puede involucrarse como viajero, transeúnte, habitante, local, foráneo. Joel considera a todos y se pone al servicio de sus raíces para crear esta ventana que las muestra con orgullo y dignidad.

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El triqui que pintó el mural de María Sabina en Puerto Escondido | México Desconocido

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Si bien Joel Merino saltó a la fama en 2013, en realidad desde que estudiaba en la secundaria (entrando el siglo XXI) ya hacía murales y arte público sin imaginar que aquellos trazos lo llevarían a cruzar fronteras y recorrer Europa difundiendo su cultura.

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Editor's Note: This article is part of a series on the history of graphic design and social activism in California, with a focus on Los Angeles, published in partnership with KCET Artbound.
LOS ANGELES - When Emilio Carrillo came to the United States from El Salvador 24 years ago, he started making friends who would ask him to paint murals on the walls of their small businesses. The 63-year-old construction worker and self-taught painter doesn't make a living off of his art, but it's a gift he's had since childhood when he would create intricate drawings on chalkboards for school lessons.

His most well-known work is on the side of an apartment building in Pico-Union. The extensive mural, painted about 12 years ago, features six panels of intricate landscapes of flora and fauna, each representing a different country in the Americas: Mexico, El Salvador, Honduras, Guatemala, Nicaragua, and Ecuador. Commissioned by the owner of the building, the idea was to honor the ethnic makeup of the neighborhood, especially since the building is along the route of the Central American Independence Day Parade that happens every September 15.

Emilio Carrillo's mural of Latin American countries on the wall of an apartment building in Pico-Union.

In order to accurately depict the cultural and natural signifiers of each country, Carrillo says that, as he painted, he spoke to pedestrians from Honduras; Guatemalan tenants who lived in the building above the mural; his ex-partner from Nicaragua; and the owner of the building who is from Ecuador. When it came to painting his native El Salvador, Carrillo recalled memories of growing up near the countryside, where his eyes feasted on the dense foliage and colorful animals. While painting Mexico, Carrillo drew from his journey to the United States. "I came here via train and Mexico is engraved in my memory, especially the nopales," he explained.

For Carillo, painting is a source of peace and tranquility from the troubles of life. His practice is collaborative, painting elements like butterflies or iguanas based on suggestions from people who pass by. "Sometimes there are elders in wheelchairs who left their countries a long time ago and you can see the joy in their faces watching as I paint countryside landscapes that remind them of their childhood," said Carillo. "I feel like I help humanity even for just a moment."

Carillo is one of many sign painters and muralists who have helped create the visual language of Los Angeles. Beyond helping businesses promote themselves, these hand-painted, one-of-a-kind signs and murals create a sense of place and belonging for residents. From markets and barbershops to restaurants and botanicas, they've become iconic signifiers distinguishing particular neighborhoods.

In predominantly Latinx neighborhoods, signs and murals are often painted in Spanish and have motifs like the quetzal bird of Guatemala or La Virgen de Guadalupe of Mexico that connect people to their culture. These art pieces are meant to attract and honor the existing residents of that particular neighborhood, whether it be Mexican food items on the facade of a restaurant Boyle Heights, an ode to Central American countries on the wall of an apartment building in Pico-Union, or a colorful farm landscape outside a mercado in East Hollywood.

A mural outside a business in Pico-Union honoring Oscar Romero, a Salvadoran Archbishop who spoke out against injustice and violence during the war in El Salvador. He was shot and killed during mass in 1980 and in 2018 canonized as a saint. Aura Rodas, pictured above, has been selling fruit in this area for seven years, but had to stop during the pandemic. She just started selling again two months ago. "I feel blessed working in this spot next to this great figure, this where we make our daily bread," she said.

Hand-painted party motifs don the facade of Honduran-owned Kevin Party Supplies store in East Hollywood, where residents rent tables, chairs, and decorations for their celebrations, from quinceañeras to graduation parties.

A Mariachi musician passes in front of a mural honoring Mariachi Plaza in Boyle Heights.

A mural on the back wall of Salvadoran Restaurant La Nueva Flor Blanca features a scene of a Salvadoran town.

Related

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The Hand-Painted Signs and Murals of Latinx LA

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Editor's Note: This article is part of a series on the history of graphic design and social activism in California, with a focus on Los Angeles, published in partnership with KCET Artbound. LOS ANGELES - When Emilio Carrillo came to the United States from El Salvador 24 years ago, he started making friends who would ask him to paint murals on the walls of their small businesses.