Tag Archives: art history

Diego Rivera, Mexican Muralism, Art and FDR’s New Deal

I was fascinated to read Heather Cox Richardson’s Letters from an American December 8, 2023, essay on the power of art to restore the economy and economic confidence. She takes us back to Roosevelt’s New Deal as a way to infuse vitality into the economy after the 1929 stock market crash by investing in public art, public works, and building public confidence in the government’s ability to set things right.

What I didn’t know and what she explains is that Roosevelt and his administration informed this policy based on the 1920’s Mexican Muralist Movement, led by Diego Rivera, Jose Clemente Orozco and David Alfaro Sequeiros.

She writes, ” … on Friday, December 8, 1933, in the first year of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s administration, the Advisory Committee to the Treasury on Fine Arts met for four hours in Washington, D.C., with museum directors from all over the country and leaders from the art world.”

After launching the Civilian Conservation Corps that put young men to work planting trees, fighting fires, and maintaining wilderness trails, after establishing the Federal Emergency Relief Administration to provide work and cash relief for unemployed workers, after creating the Agricultural Adjustment Administration to boost farm prices by reducing agricultural surpluses, and after putting in place the Civil Works Administration to employ more than 4 million unemployed Americans to build 44,000 miles of new roads, 1,000 miles of new water mains, and building or improving 4,000 schools, the federal government turned its attention to the arts.

Now it was time to help artists, says Cox Richardson, and writes, “Inspired by the 1920s public art movement in Mexico in which young artists were paid to decorate public buildings, FDR’s former classmate George Biddle suggested to the president that artists could be hired to ‘paint murals depicting the social ideals of the new administration and contemporary life on the walls of public buildings.'” Others in the administration said artists needed to eat just like other people. More than $1 million was set aside to alleviate economic hardships experienced by American artists.

Coit Tower in San Francisco was chosen for the pilot project and twenty-six local artists plus their assistants transformed the space into frescoes and murals depicting California life. The project was supervised by Diego Rivera-trained muralist Victor Arnautoff, and funded by the Public Works of Art Project (PWAP).

New Deal artists were different from the Mexican muralists who focused on the Mexican Revolution. They wanted to emphasize FDR’s new approach to government. They painted about restoring a belief in the American political system of democratic ideals and a thriving economy.

These artists turned away from cubism and focused on creating an American scene that represented rural or urban America. The result was an expression of intelligence, power, and beauty found in ordinary people living ordinary lives.

“Coit Tower showed San Francisco’s people: striking workers, farmers, cowboys, travelers reading newspapers, news stenographers, chauffeurs, a rich man being held up at gunpoint, car accidents. People of color and women were underrepresented but not entirely ignored in this celebration of the possibilities of American life under the administration’s new policies (one mural had an oil can in a corner to illustrate the government oiling the machinery of the economy for the mechanics in the next panel),” says Richardson.  

These murals in Coit Tower were such a success that the federal government would launch four more projects to fund artists (including writers), most famously under the Works Progress Administration that operated from 1935 to 1942. The result were murals and essays representing the lives and histories of ordinary Americans that decorated libraries, schools, courthouses, bathhouses, and post offices, honoring community and hard work—and, in the edgier paintings, jabbing at stockbrokers, bankers, and industrialists—celebrated a hopeful, new, progressive America. 

We will be bringing back Looking for Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera in Mexico City, February 28-March 6, 2025, to explore the Mexican Muralist Movement, with a focus on these two masters intertwined in love and creativity. The tour will include visits to four sites where murals are on display, a boat ride in Xochimilco, visits to Casa Azul, and the Dolores Olmedo Museum that holds the world’s largest collection of Kahlo’s work. In addition, we will discover textile galleries and textile design studios in the Polanco neighborhood. Our tour will be led by an art historian, with Eric Chavez Santiago and Norma Schafer.

If you are interested in this experience, please send us an email to get on the notification list.

Scott Roth on Rug Weaving Art History in Oaxaca, Mexico–Part 1

Scott Roth and I have been friends for about 15 years. I met him a few years after I first arrived in Teotitlan del Valle, Oaxaca, in 2005. Scott is a legend. He is one of the early adventurers who identified the weaving talent in the village, and intuited that blankets and rugs could be repurposed into beautiful floor rugs with just a few modifications. He began working with a few weavers on designs and dyes for export to the USA to meet the nascent interest in what became known as Southwest Style. I want to tell his story, because it is an important part of the history of what Oaxaca is today. I’ll be publishing his writing in segments along with his photos.

1970’s Transition from Wearable Serapes to Floor Rugs

These are Scott’s words!

I first visited the village in January 1974, and returned in August and November that year to continue investing in their two-piece blankets (serapes) and wall hangings. At the time, there was only one man, Ismael Gutierrez, making textiles we would consider rugs today, with the tightness of weave that we find suitable for heavy foot traffic.

Above: Blanket, Scott Roth Collection, era 1974

The big surge of popularity of these weavings was just around the bend, when the Southwest design trend came on strong in 1980. In 1974, there were only two other Americans regularly coming to Teotitlan as exporters, but shortly thereafter ten fellow hippy boomers discovered the village, and found a way, like myself, to fund a romantically adventurous lifestyle.

Above Left: Flor de Oaxaca. Above Right: Escher tapestry

As is now in Teotitlan del Valle, most households strived to become financially independent, creating for the marketplace a unique wool textile through design, size, function and color palette. There was a wide range of images displayed by Teotitecos at the weekly Sunday Tlacolula Market, and also at Saturday’s market in Oaxaca city, which was a block from the Zocalo, on the streets facing the Benito Juarez Market.

Above: Aztec Calendar, 1930’s

In 1974, some of the prominent themes depicted in the tapestry weaving were based on the 1910-1920 Mexican Revolution, during which time greater civil rights and land reforms uplifted indigenous groups. These themes included figures from pre-Hispanic carvings of anthropomorphic gods and the very popular rendering of the stone-carved Aztec Calendar. These themes originated in the 1930’s and remained well into the 1970’s. Weavers of this era learned from their grandfathers who were the serape makers during the mid-1800’s when colonial period Saltillo-style serapes were in vogue throughout Mexico. A pattern from that pre-Revolution era, named Flor de Oaxaca, was the singular most popular design for the 5′ x 6-1/2′ two-piece serapes in 1975. It was a simplified version which fit in with mid-century modernist aesthetic.

Above: Saltillo-style serape, Flor de Oaxaca design, Teotitlan del Valle

Early 20th century European modern art readily translated to tapestries, with many interpretations  of Miro, Picasso, M.C. Escher, and Matisse found alongside pre-Columbian figures.  Isaac Vasquez (who died in 2022) told me how he wove commissioned tapestries for Rufino Tamayo, at the time Mexico’s most famous living artist. In the early sixties, Tamayo brought along his good friend from Paris, Pablo Picasso.  Picasso drew for Isaac a simple design of fish stacked in opposing directions like canned sardines.   The design,  Pescados Modernas, became one of the village’s most enduring best sellers.  

Above: Picasso’s fish interpreted for Teotitlan del Valle tapestries

Above: Matisse tapestry, Teotitlan del Valle, 1970’s

Pre-Hispanic figures from two books by Mexican anthropologist/designer Jorge Enciso, called escaletos, were the subject of favored small wall hangings, in black and white wool. If you know the 1980’s New York City pop artist Keith Haring, you know the power of tightly balanced positive and negative figurative work. I suspect Haring was influenced by the pre-Hispanic figures in Teotitlán’s Escaleto tapestries.    

Above: Jose Enciso designs replicated in Teotitlan weaving

There was a remarkable contrast between the bare minimum of material goods in any household and the highly spirited social exchanges one observed on the street. Everyone slept on the dirt floor of their one-room adobe house, unrolling a petate every night.  There was only one car in town, no running water or plumbing, no paved streets, most women over age 50 went barefoot, and people over 40 had a very limited grasp of Spanish.  Electricity had arrived in 1965,  but was used minimally.  I enjoyed visiting two households in which one weaver would, unaccompanied, sing songs for hours while he and other family members continued working on their looms.  A lively and cheery work environment!  A few years later the Teotitecos could afford cassette stereos, and this tradition of singing disappeared.  

Above: 1950’s-60’s Modernist home with Flor de Oaxaca rug on the floor

The next post will cover the decade of the 1980’s, when everything changed materially.   In retrospect, I observed in the 1970’s that much of the Zapotec lifestyle here had been as it was through the colonial period.  A good, but hard to find, anthropological study of the value system of the Oaxaca Valley Zapotecs was published in the late sixties titled Zapotec Deviance.  It contains insights as to what has helped maintain their cultural identity and sustainability this last half century.   

Here is a video interview with Scott you may enjoy!

Norma’s Note: I’ve lightly edited Scott’s narrative and photos, and inserted a few more details, like the recent death of Isaac Vasquez, innovative master weaver. Also of note, the colorful rugs shown here were made with churro sheep wool and chemical (synthetic) dyes, popular at the time, because they were cheap and easy to use. Before the industrial revolution in the mid-1800’s, serapes here were either made from the natural sheep wool (blacks, grays, beige, white, brown) or with natural dyes from local plant sources (cochineal, indigo, wild marigold, tree bark).

Above: This is master weaver Adrian Montaño from Teotitlan del Valle. He wove a vintage Covarrubias design in the 1960’s that I purchased in 2020. It hangs in my Teotitlan del Valle casita. Other examples from that era are included, and woven by him. The last photos is a traditional design created by Eric Chavez Santiago’s great grandfather Venustiano, popularized throughout the village. All in natural sheep wool.

Mexican Muralists Envision New Nation Post-Revolution

Art history is a fascinating way to learn more about Mexico and the figures who shaped the nation — political, social, cultural. Through their interpretation of characters and events, the famed muralists — Diego Rivera, David Alfara Siqueiros, and Jose Clemente Orozco — gave definition to a new nation seeking to redefine itself post-1920 Revolution. We call this Mexican Muralism.

Mexico City skyline with active volcano Popocatepetl in distance
Marion Greenwood mural, circa 1934, Abelardo Rodriguez Market

While I’m now in Teotitlan del Valle, Oaxaca, I’m reflecting back to last weekend in Mexico City, where, in collaboration with my art historian friend Valeria, we led a group of nine participants from the USA through the historic center. Here is where a turbulent history is interpreted through art. We started on Thursday evening and ended on Sunday afternoon, packing it in, walking miles each day, absorbing a fascinating evolution.

Rivera mural at SEP, circa 1923-1928
Orozco’s bleak worldview, Colegio San Ildefonso

Mexico is defined by many internal and external forces, mostly her on-going desire to reconcile the Spanish conquest with her indigenous origins. Embracing Mestizaje — blending indigenous roots with conquerors, occupiers and immigrants, is what makes Mexico unique among nations, and very different from her northern neighbors.

At Colegio San Ildefonso, Orozco mural Cortes and La Malinche
Rivera’s idyllic Aztec landscape, another worldview

Rivera, who sat out the 1910-1920 Revolution, painting and making a name for himself in Europe, returned to Mexico City in 1921. Jose Vasconcelos, the first minister of education, recruited Rivera to paint the murals at the Secretariat de Educacion Publica (SEP), his first commission.

Unfinished Siquieros mural, SEP — newest building near Plaza Santa Domingo

The murals of Rivera, Orozco and Siquieros are commentaries on national identity, statehood, oppression and power. The Rivera murals at SEP in particular were part of a national communication plan (aka propaganda) to embrace native culture and arts. Critics say Rivera’s murals are romantic and idealistic. His contemporaries, survivors of the Revolution, painted a more hopeless, violent vision, expressing their belief that the past must be destroyed in order to create a new order.

Mazahua vendor at Casa Azul
Orozco’s interpretation of death of the old order

By Sunday, we move more deeply into the life and times of Frida Kahlo with a visit to Casa Azul, a stark contrast to the muralists.

Frida Kahlo was born in 1907, the year Rivera went to Europe as a young man. During her lifetime she was dwarfed literally and figuratively by her imposing husband. It wasn’t until after her death in 1954 at age 47, that she became the iconic figure she is today — representing women’s strength, pain, fortitude, perseverance, endurance.

1953 self-portrait, injured areas in 1925 accident, 22 lifetime operations

We revere her because her art is self-expression. She painted emotion and the internal life. She was a participant, not an observer. She hid her deformities under extraordinary handmade Mexican clothing — popularizing the style, corseted beneath to hold her injured spine erect. Andre Breton called her surrealist. We call her survivor.

Who needs feet when I have wings to fly
Juan O’Gorman designed Frida’s Casa Azul studio, a window on the garden

Our art history tour weaves the relationship between Diego and Frida with the times in which they lived and worked. We also examine the politics of Socialism and Communism in Mexico, how the Rivera’s gave sanctuary to Leon Trotsky, the idealism of young American artists like Pablo O’Higgins, Isamu Noguchi, and the Greenwood sisters — Marion and Grace, who were drawn to the movement. We see their deteriorating murals in an obscure market blocks from the city center.

Murals behind the chicharrones, Abelardo Rodriguez Market
Water-damaged, deteriorating Pablo O’Higgins mural, Mexico City
Frida’s last signed painting before she died, 1954

We understand Mexico more now, how the creative stream of artistic energy here continues to express social and political inequalities, injustices, and discontent.

Manuel Rodriguez Lozano 1945 mural, The Holocaust, at Downtown
Lunch break at Restaurant El Mayor, poached salmon with fresh corn salsa

Here in Oaxaca, our beloved Maestro Francisco Toledo, carried the mantle of social justice art until he died in September 2019. Young graphic artists follow in the footsteps of the masters, use wood, linoleum block and metal plates to carve out images of truth to power. Mexico offers creative opportunity to any and all who choose to express themselves.

Our October 2019 group at Casa Azul
Beneath Metropolitan Cathedral lies unexcavated Aztec city

Note: If you put together a group of 5-6 people, I am happy to organize this experience over a long weekend in Mexico City.

Diego Rivera’s experiment with Cubism, 1910-1920
Sculptor/muralist Isamu Naguchi is ardent anti-Fascist, installation
at Abelardo Rodriguez Market

Looking for Frida Kahlo + Diego Rivera: Mexico City Art History Tour, October 2019

Arrive October 17 and depart October 21, 2019

We have not offered this program since 2017. Now is your chance to register and explore the lives of Frida and Diego through their art. One space open. Click on this link and then contact me: norma.schafer@icloud.com

Looking for Frida Kahlo + Diego Rivera 2019

Details, Another View of Frida Kahlo at Casa Azul

In the last three years, I’ve probably visited Casa Azul, where Frida Kahlo was born and lived with Diego Rivera, over ten times. I come because I organize the art history study tour, Looking for Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera.

Frida Kahlo Calderon, daughter of Jewish Hungarian father and Oaxaquena mother

Can you get to Mexico City next weekend?

On this latest visit last Friday with a group from Australia and New Zealand, I served as a consultant for their leader who wanted a one-day quick immersion into Frida’s life for her group.

Frida’s father and mother, her portrait of them

I wondered: How do I continue to take photos of the same iconographic details of Frida and Diego’s life?  The paint brushes. The photographs. The furniture. The folk art collection.

Detail of studio paint brushes, her strokes became weaker at the end

The pre-Hispanic ceramics and lava rock sculpture. The clothing. The frog urn that contains her ashes. The paintings she created out of pain. Reverence. Disappointment. Courage. Commitment to love and family. Passion.

Watermelons. Celebration of Life. Finished just before death.

Go to the details, I told myself. Captures the parts, not the whole. Focus on the brush strokes. The lace. The color. The shadows and reflections. The images of the men and women she loved.

Colored oil crayons, still neatly boxed, waiting. Ready.

Go to the details. Find the ribbons. Find the ribs of the plant leaves. The shape of flowers. The accoutrements of the corsets and built-up shoes to hide her deformities. The textures and reflections.

Palm ribs in the expansive garden, Casa Azul

She put such a strong, uplifting face to the world despite her injuries — physical and emotional.

She called Diego “Toad” and “Panza” — ashes contained within the frog jug.

This trip to Casa Azul was different for me and I used the experience to examine the infinite, small parts of life that we often scan over to take in the big picture.

Visceral, the insides of a gourd, like a fertile womb ready to give seed. But she couldn’t.

If you want to join me in Mexico City, Thursday, July 29, for a July 30 morning start to a three-day immersion into the murals, paintings and lives of Friday and Diego, there is a space for you. It’s so easy to fly in and out!

Lover, sculptor Isamu Noguchi, in Mexico

Why is Frida Kahlo an icon? Perhaps you would like to help me answer this question.

Supported by a frame, a corset, exposed, bare and barren.

What does she represent for women who aspire to be independent, strong, feminine and vulnerable?

Painting from a wheel chair, Casa Azul

She hid her misshapen body beneath glorious hand-woven and embroidered dresses, put her best foot and face forward. Persevered and thrived.

Loved by photographer Nicolas Murry. She was devoted to Diego.

Today, she is more famous, more revered than Diego Rivera because she exposed herself and revealed the internal, damaged self.

Frida refused to let her polio define her, though she wore a brace, sturdy shoes.

Andre Breton called her Mexico’s surrealist painter. She is more than that. Surrealism conjures up Salvador Dali and the distortions he saw in life. Frida reflected on her own distortions and created beauty from them.

Saludos, Norma

On the bus, a fateful day of destruction and a lifetime of reconstruction

Would Frida have become the painter she did without having suffered the trolley car accident that sent a metal spear through her uterus?

Frida Kahlo, 1907-1954

Self-portrait, through Frida Kahlo’s looking glass

Sometimes courage requires that we each put one foot in front of the other to move forward, despite set-backs. We love Frida Kahlo because through her story she teaches us that life requires risk, innovation, and that being afraid is part of our existence.

Painted gourd adorns kitchen table in Casa Azul

When Frida died, Diego Rivera wanted to establish a museum to honor her. She was not yet recognized. He convinced his friend, Dolores Olmedo, to invest in purchasing Frida’s paintings and Casa Azul.

Closet where Frida’s belongings were sealed for 50 years

But, he made her promise not to open the green closet door, where clothing, diaries and photos remained secreted for fifty years.

In 2006, the closet was opened and art history was rewritten.

The garden at Casa Azul