A giant 'Christ of the Pacific' statue is erected in Peru

The outgoing president of Peru, Alan Garcia, is bringing a gargantuan statue of Jesus to a hill overlooking the capital, Lima.

The "Christ of the Pacific" monument, set to be inaugurated later this month on the Morro Solar hill in southern Lima, is a 120-foot structure featuring a white statue of Jesus that is 72 feet tall. The statue,  made of resin, has its arms outstretched, resembling the world-famous Christ the Redeemer statue overlooking Rio de Janeiro.

According to reports, Garcia described the project as a personal dream and a "gift" to Peru before he leaves office in late July. "I want it to be a figure that blesses Peru and protects Lima," the president said (links in Spanish). 

The monument has sparked controversy, with opponents accusing Garcia of having a conflict of interest because he co-funded the project with an organization that holds contracts with Peru's government, reports said. President-elect Ollanta Humala, who assumes office on July 28, has suggested he supports the project, saying it will improve the city's panorama.

But Peruvians appeared split over the new addition to Lima's landscape, with some questioning the wisdom of using a religious symbol and others doubting the president's sincerity. "A monument as great as his humility," said one online commenter at El Comercio.

"Christ of the Pacific" is set to be inaugurated June 29.

— Daniel Hernandez in Mexico City

Photo: Peruvian President Alan Garcia oversees final preparations for the Christ of the Pacific monument in Lima on June 19. Credit: Government of Peru

Mexico remembers writer Carlos Monsivais, one year later

The photo above shows the front gate of the longtime home of Carlos Monsivais, the celebrated Mexican author who died a year ago Sunday at the age of 72. Read our June 20, 2010, La Plaza post on his death as well as the obituary in The Times.

Well-regarded in his barrio, Monsivais lived for many years on Calzada San Simon in the San Simon Ticumac neighborhood of south-central Mexico City, near the famous Portales market. He worked there for many years, surrounded by piles of books, pop memorabilia and, famously, his cats (link in Spanish).

La Plaza shot these photos on Calzada San Simon in the days after the author's death.

Neighbors posted signs of regards and affection for "Monsi," as the author of "Days to Remember" and "Apocalipstick" was called. The messages in Spanish are heartwarming and often florid, a worthy homage to the writer who once poetically described the Mexico City subway as a primal human battleground for oxygen.

Monsivais was remembered once again by friends and colleagues during a memorial on Sunday at the Palacio de Bellas Artes in downtown Mexico City (link in Spanish). The writer Elena Poniatowska, a lifelong friend, said at the memorial that in the past year Monsivais' death has been an ever-present void in the intellectual life of Mexico, "a horrible loss."

"Monsi went directly to the essence of things," she said. "His implacable fortitude, his critical intelligence ... transformed him into a defender of civil rights, into the intellectual who most knew and best knew how to protest the violation of human rights, and the citizen who best denounced the enormous ineptitude and rampant greed of the politicians who govern us."

More photos below.

Abel Quezada drew the idiosyncratic soul of Mexico

Above: "There go some low-class people."

"I make illustrated texts," the Mexican cartoonist Abel Quezada once remarked. "People like calling them cartoons in order to define my profession, but I consider myself someone who draws. Drawing for me is a constant nervous tic."

It was a tic that for more than 50 years produced some of the most memorable political cartoons in the popular imagination of Mexico. Quezada skewered both left and right, rich and poor, and was undeterred from criticizing through his "illustrated texts" the long regime under the Institutional Revolutionary Party, or PRI.

That much is known about Quezada by anyone who can point to one of his many recognizable drawings of "typical" Mexicans -- our idiosyncratic selves, for better or for worse.

An overweight man in a cowboy hat with a party pin on his jacket signifies the "PRI Deputy." A robust pointy-nosed woman in a gown and pearls symbolizes a haughty "Dame of Las Lomas." Even a journalist type pops up in Quezada's illustrations. The workhorse scribe is represented as a man so paper-thin he is tied to the ground with rope to prevent him from floating away.

Such images reappear in a far-reaching exhibit on Quezada's work, "Códice Abel Quezada," currently on view at the Museo de la Ciudad de Mexico in downtown Mexico City (links in Spanish). The exhibit, a 15-year project curated by Alfonso Morales and organized with the support of the Quezada family civil organization, breaks new ground on the artist, depicting him as a full-fledged master who also excelled in painting and mural-making.

Indeed, some of his most vivid work wasn't inspired by Mexico but rather his time spent in New York. Other wondrous Quezada pieces illustrate a fantastical metropolis named Comales that existed only in the artist's imagination.

"He had two cities, three cities -- well, maybe four, Paris was another -- that seduced him enormously," curator Morales said in an interview with La Plaza. "Comales was like the capital of the world [for Quezada], the best of the worlds that are impossible." 

"Ultimately," Morales added, "he was a fabulist."

A 'Surfing Madonna' appears in San Diego

Where did she come from? Who made her? Will the city decide to keep her around?

Residents of a laid-back beach community in San Diego County have been gathering day after day before a striking mosaic mural that appeared unannounced on a bridge wall, guerrilla-style, without proper approval. They are curious and concerned. The "Surfing Madonna," as locals have dubbed her, is in danger of being removed by the city of Encinitas.

The mural is a 12-foot-tall representation of the Virgen de Guadalupe, the Virgin Mary image believed to have miraculously appeared before an Indian peasant named Juan Diego in 1531 in Mexico City. Guadalupe has been called the "Empress of the Americas," the patron saint of Mexico, and the "unofficial flag of Mexicans." Her image has been appropriated across popular culture and national and religious lines, and is considered a special icon for Southern California as well.

In the Encinitas mural, the Virgin Mary figure appears in her familiar flowing green robe, with her famous downward-cast eyes and slight smile. But this being Southern California, Guadalupe here is riding a white surfboard, with the image's traditional moon-bearing cherub depicted on the board's deck, as if navigating down Encinitas Boulevard and onto the breaks at Moonlight State Beach.

"Save the ocean," reads a message running down the mural's left side, in bright glass pepples.

Mexican movie is 'censored'

 

 

The documentary “Presumed Guilty” (“Presunto Culpable” link in Spanish) has received accolades far and wide, from human rights groups, audiences and Mexican legislators. It is a damning look at the Mexican judicial system that hastens to put a man in prison on the flimsiest of evidence.

 That same judiciary this week ordered the movie pulled from theaters. The reason? One of the prosecution witnesses in the case claims he never gave permission for footage of him to be used in the film.

Backers of the film were having none of this. The witness, Victor Reyes Bravo, was taped while in public hearings and no special permission was necessary, the makers of “Presumed Guilty” say.

 “We see this as an attempt at censorship, an attempt to block the exhibition of a movie that all Mexico must see,” the film’s director, Roberto Hernandez, said in a radio interview (link in Spanish).

 The movie recounts the conviction of Antonio Zuniga on a 2005 murder charge, which is eventually overturned.

 Both federal and local governments say they don't agree with the court's ruling (link in Spanish). Theaters are vowing to continue showing the important film.

 --Tracy Wilkinson in Mexico City

 

Photo: Antonio Zuniga is shown behind bars. Credit: El Universal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jose Clemente Orozco, master muralist, shines in an overwhelming exhibit in Mexico

The Mexican muralist Jose Clemente Orozco (1883-1949) is the subject of an immense and exhausting survey up now at a downtown Mexico City museum, the Antiguo Colegio de San Ildefonso.  A total of 358 pieces fill more than a dozen exhibit halls, including previously unexhibited drawings of studies for some of Orozco's most famous murals.

"Jose Clemente Orozco: Pintura y Verdad" opened in September to coincide with last year's bicentennial celebrations. Its run has been extended through the end of February. The viewing experience requires hours. The show's setting is also significant.

Orozco painted some of his lesser-known but most politically charged fresco murals along the arched corridors of the colonial-era college, founded by Jesuits in 1588, just 60 years after the fall of the Aztecs. The frescoes depict snooty members of Mexico's elite and scenes of violent warfare from the country's revolution a century ago. In one mural, in the main stairwell, the Spanish conquistador Hernan Cortez is shown sitting nude alongside La Malinche, his Indian interpreter and mistress. A faceless mixed-race man lies in the shadows beneath them -- offering a less-than-ringing endorsement of the fruits of the conquest.

For Mexicans who know their history and the "great" artists of the 20th century, this is familiar stuff. But for visitors and foreigners, "Jose Clemente Orozco: Pintura y Verdad" offers a surprisingly straightforward introduction to the expressive range of a master who remains controversial to this day.

Orozco was an activist painter and a member of an elite himself: the crowd of Marxist bohemians and, later, political-cultural establishment in Mexico that was led partly by his contemporaries, David Alfaro Siqueiros and Diego Rivera.

As the exhibit demonstrates, Orozco was deeply commited to the causes in vogue in his day. But he was also skeptical. For Orozco, the revolution was "farce, drama, barbarity, buffoons and dwarfs trailing along after the gentlemen of noose and dagger." We see this disdain throughout the exhibit, particularly in his visceral ink drawings, some of which could be ripped from our contemporary headlines with titles like "Cruelty" (seen above), "Hanging Man," and "Indifference."

For the opposition newspaper El Ahuizote, Orozco produced scathing political cartoons targeting just about every stripe of power broker. One, seen below, shows major politicians dressed in drag, with only a saintly nun, representing the nation or homeland, offering a moral contrast.

"Jose Clemente Orozco: Pintura y Verdad" originated at the Instituto Cultural Cabañas in the western city of Guadalajara, where it was organized by curator Miguel Cervantes. That's where Orozco's masterpiece the "Man of Fire" fresco is located. The San Ildefonso mounting made me wish I had seen this show back in Jalisco.

In the Mexico City setting, the exhibit falters in connecting the experience of viewing the fresco murals at San Ildefonso with the drawings, paintings, and portraits in the exhibit halls. Furthermore, the reproductions of the murals that Orozco created elsewhere, including at Pomona and Dartmouth colleges in the United States, are small, placed close to the floor, and difficult to absorb in the dim gallery lighting.

The reproductions were "printed in that size so that the public could get a general idea of the compositions and read texts on the genesis of each [mural]," Cervantes explained, in an e-mail message.

In any case, the range and quality of Orozco's works as shown here outweigh any potential faults. There are often surprising pieces, in many styles and genres. And they are presented in a clear, chronological fashion, devoid of florid curatorial arguments or historical revisionism.

For readers in Mexico City, Gregorio Luke, the former director of the Museum of Latin American Art in Long Beach, Calif., will narrate a presentation featuring to-scale projections of famous Orozco murals on Feb. 2 at 6 p.m. The event is free but space is limited.

-- Daniel Hernandez in Mexico City

Top photo: ' La Trinchera,' 1926, fresco / Courtesy of the Antiguo Colegio de San Ildefonso. Second photo: 'Crueldad,' 1926-1928, ink on paper / Courtesy Antiguo Colegio de San Ildefonso. Third photo: 'El Ahuizote,' Nov. 25, 1911 / Photo by Daniel Hernandez. Bottom photo: 'Riña en un Cabaret,' 1944, oil on masonite / Photo by Daniel Hernandez

Brooklyn Museum seeks to return pre-Hispanic artifacts to Costa Rica

More than a century ago, an American railroad and fruit magnate named Minor C. Keith unearthed thousands of pre-Hispanic artifacts on a plantation in Costa Rica, then took them to the United States. They were gold and jade pieces, ceramic bowls and anthropomorphic figurines. In 1934, five years after Keith died, the Brooklyn Museum in New York acquired about 5,000 pieces from his collection. Those objects then languished in storage for more than seven decades.

Now, the Brooklyn Museum wants to send the Keith objects back to Costa Rica, but the Central American nation has to come up with the money to pay to move them.

The potential exchange is not characterized by the political and philosophical debates that have pitted Western museums and universities against governments in countries from which archaeologically valuable items have been taken. For example, Peru and Yale University fought for years over artifacts dug up at the ancient Incan city of Machu Picchu until a deal on those items was reached in November.

In this case, Costa Rica had made no claims on the Keith objects but responded positively to outreach made by the Brooklyn Museum, stemming from the museum's efforts to minimize and streamline its holdings.

The Brooklyn Museum has told the National Museum of Costa Rica that it would like to return about 4,500 pre-Hispanic artifacts but would like to keep some pieces that are considered more valuable. In Costa Rica, officials said they were open to receiving any artifacts but have no budget to pay for the shipping costs, estimated at $59,000.

Photographer Enrique Metinides artfully captured five decades of mayhem in Mexico City

The old photographer spends most of his time these days in his cramped but neat Mexico City apartment, usually alone, recording footage from accidents or disaster scenes he finds on television or in movies. He is especially fond of clips of the September 2001, terrorist attacks in the United States.

"Since I'm not working anymore, I get by doing this," Enrique Metinides said frankly one recent afternoon. "I wish I was there. I would've gone right in."

His longing is not satirical. Far from it. Metinides, now graying and 76, belongs to a rare breed: the photojournalist with an absolute, unflinching addiction to the news. By any standard he ranks among the best and most prolific.

For more than 50 years, Metinides shot too-many-to-count accidents, shootouts, fires and robberies-gone-bad for the tabloids of his hometown, the big bad capital of Mexico. He worked nearly every  day from the age of 12 -- when he was spotted by a newspaper reporter taking photos of a car accident -- until he retired in the 1990s. He listened to police scanners, rode along with ambulances and firetrucks, or sometimes arrived at harrowing scenes before the authorities.

And he often came close to death doing it, suffering over the years various heart attacks, accidents, and broken bones. Metinides was not above dropping his own equipment and throwing his hands into an especially urgent rescue effort. He recalled brashly telling editors back in his day: "Don't give me any orders or tell me what to do. I'll go out, and come back with my report."

Boy, did he.

Light show in honor of Mexican Revolution wows audiences, but skips parts of history

For starters, it's bigger than big.

The multimedia "spectacle" playing its final show Wednesday night on the vast Zocalo central square in Mexico City employs enormous light projections and audio systems, 12 semi-transparent jumbo screens, fiery pyrotechnics, a chorus of 325 live dancers and performers, and a breathtaking fireworks finale.

The "Yo Mexico" show tells Mexico's history, from the dawn of time to today. It's meant to honor the centennial of the Mexican Revolution, observed on Nov. 20. The show easily rivals the degree of spectacle of the one-night festivities celebrating the bicentennial of Independence in September. It has surprisingly ducked below the radar of political opposition that railed at the federal government this year for that event's costs.

"Yo Mexico" uses animated designs projected onto the facades of the National Palace, the Metropolitan Cathedral and City Hall, portraying Aztec pyramids, sailing Spanish galleons, and locomotives choo-chooing. It covers the usual "great men" and events of Mexican history but also gives attention to female figures not always seen at the center, such as Malinche, the Indian translator and mistress to Hernan Cortes, and Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, a brilliant 17th century nun and poet.

Overall, "Yo Mexico" is an 88-minute barrage of over-the-top sensory stimulation. The "wow" factor is high. Take a look at this fire sequence:

Yale agrees to return Machu Picchu artifacts to Peru, ending dispute

Yale University has agreed to return thousands of pre-Hispanic artifacts to Peru, tentatively ending a dispute that pitted the Ivy League school against a growing demand in the Andean nation to reclaim its "cultural patrimony."

The Machu Picchu objects -- including pottery, textiles and human bones -- have been in Yale's hands for nearly a century, since Hiram Bingham III, a Yale historian, first "rediscovered" the ancient Inca city in 1911.

Peruvian President Alan Garcia and his predecessor, Alejandro Toledo, had made it a priority to pressure the university to release the excavated pieces, saying they were merely moved out of the country on loan between 1912 and 1915. Yale had refused for years, saying many Machu Picchu pieces were returned in 1921 and that it had been established then that the rest would stay at the university's Peabody Museum in New Haven, Conn.

In a statement over the weekend, Yale said it was pleased with developments in recent talks and was still working out details on how to transfer the first batch of objects to San Antonio Abad University in the city of Cuzco as early as next year, after an inventory is completed and a new research center is established there.