Back Under the Radar

I am writing this with a pen dipped in acid. I am writing from a hotel in Queretaro, a large city of some sophistication about an hour from San Miguel. I am in Queretaro because I need a break from the glutted San Miguel art scene. Queretaro has plenty of authentic Mexican culture and relatively few gringos. There are too many tourists coming to San Miguel who have no interest in art. The city is overflowing with them. They are arriving by the busload, and they are coming because they read the hype published in high-end travel magazines as well as prestigious publications like Forbes, the New York Times and the LA Times. Starry-eyed travel writers are barking “San Miguel is a gem, an oasis of art, a hipster heaven . . .” blah, blah, blah, like a herd of bull seals. And so we serious artists who are full-time residents are the ones who are suffering the most because our voices are being overpowered by the tourist babble. Enough already. Basta! Let San Miguel have some peace for a change! Let it slide back under the radar, if that’s possible.

Las Damas de Guadalupe

Guadalupe is a family-oriented neighborhood in the north of San Miguel. Many SMA artists live and work there. It is also the location of the best art supply store in the city, El Pato (The Duck), named for the owner's favorite Disney cartoon character. It is adjacent to the Aurora Colonia (neighborhood) which boasts the prestigious Fabrica Aurora gallery center, and has many outdoor murals. This is a painting I did a few years ago representing the women who walk there with their children on their way to and from school or the market.

Leonora Carrington Sculptures in San Miguel

Several large Leonora Carrington sculptures in bronze have recently been installed along the new walkway/bikepath across from Los Pinos between the Mission Hotel and the entrance to the Atascadero neighborhood. Very interesting and worth a bus ride. Originally from England, Carrington lived a colorful life and died in Mexico City in 2011. She was a surrealist and highly prolific as both a painter and sculptor. More info about her at http://www.leocarrington.com/home-pagina-principal-1.html

For those of you who don't live in San Miguel, the backdrop setting for the sculptures is quite striking. Behind them is a scenic view of open fields with a vista of rolling countryside and hazy mountains in the far distance.

NB: The Carrington sculptures have been removed. There are now new bronze sculptures by Mexican artist Jose Luis Cuevas in the same location.

A Lot of Pretentious B-S

The San Miguel art scene is becoming increasingly and incredibly pretentious. People tell me to ignore it. I try, but it's getting harder and harder for me to do that. As the competition grows, so does the newspaper and online advertising and general promotion of events. Posters and handouts are popping up everywhere, and the B-S is flying thick and fast.

This week (February 26-March 4, 2016) we have a gallery opening with a full-page ad in the local newspaper announcing that a guy who is “direct from Miami, Florida” (oooh – so what?) is going to do a live painting of Frida Kahlo (is he going to bring her back from the dead? – that would be worth watching). His style is super glitzy, and we don’t need that kind of art in SMA, so send him back to Miami on the next flight, please.

Then there’s a new play, also announced with a full-page ad that tells us it’s “hilarious and a must-see” (a must-see, what a tiresome cliché). Oh, really? And does anyone else think it’s a bit self serving for the producers or director or whoever wrote the copy for the ad to call it hilarious? Not very objective, is it? Perchance it was the playwright’s mother who called it that?

And to top it off we have a realtor who promotes himself as the guy who will be happy to sell you your “dream home” running an ad using Stephen Spielberg’s photo and his logo with the line “Dream Works”. What does his real estate agency have to do with Hollywood, I wonder? Answer: Nada damn thing. He’s trying to steal some Hollywood glamour, and isn’t it illegal to use a celebrity’s image to sell something without their permission? Watch out there, Mr. Real Estate Agent, you may find yourself in court, or, worse yet, you may not be invited to the Oscars! Heaven forbid! 

San Miguel's Annual Carnival and Tourist Invasion

Every February San Miguel becomes a super hive of activity, and this year seems to have even more events than usual. I am tempted to call it San Miguel’s Carnival of Creativity. All the accelerated activity among the artists in our community is driven by the Tourist Invasion that happens every February, spearheaded by the annual Writers Conference. With all the openings, exhibits, studio walks, in addition to the theater and music performances, writing workshops, talks, tours and lectures that are crammed into five days, we are currently on arts events overload. It makes me wonder – just how many arts events is the average tourist willing and able to take in during a single week?

With all the artists vying for attention in San Miguel, the city has turned into a rat race. But in February it becomes a Super Marathon Rat Race, or, if you like, a Rat Race on Steroids. 

Does the Size of Your Studio Matter?

How important is the size and design of a studio to the creation of art and the development of the artist? I’d have to say it is a key factor in both. If you make your art in your bedroom or some other small room in your house that serves other needs or is shared with someone else, then the cramped space will have a direct effect on your work, forcing you to create small paintings or tiny sculptures. If you are able to afford a spacious studio with plenty of light, your work is more likely to be large and your ideas correspondingly expansive. Your work will probably expand to fit the space, and your vision will be enlarged in the process. When I returned to painting at the age of 56, after a divorce, I had a one-bedroom apartment and set up my studio in the kitchen, the only room in the apartment that didn’t have carpets on the floor.  Later on, after moving to San Miguel, I was able to rent a 3-bedroom house and use one of the rooms as a studio. However, this is not my ideal, and I am still hoping to have a very large studio someday, a realistic possibility since rents in San Miguel are dirt cheap compared to New York City, London, Paris, or Rome. 

An article by Raphael Minder in the New York Times about a replica of Miro’s studio makes the same point. Minder writes that when Miro moved into a big studio in Mallorca, after "painting in cubicles in Paris," his work changed dramatically -- it became larger, more expressive and free flowing. He was able to place canvases on the floor and splash paint onto them.

An Art Opening in New York City, circa 1980

What follows is an excerpt from my new novel, ELORA, a Goddess which takes place in Manhattan in 1981. The story of innocent corrupted, it is available in both print and e-book editions from Amazon.

When Trish was over the worst of her flu, but not quite back to normal, she got out of bed in order to take Elora to a vernissage, a private viewing of an exhibition of new paintings at a gallery in Soho. Flu or no flu, Trish did not want to miss this opening. The gallery and the artist were too important, and Trish knew that if she did not make an appearance her name would be struck from the invitation list and she would never be invited to another such occasion.

In this case, it was generally believed among the cognescenti in the Soho subculture that both the artist and the gallery were on the brink of something major -- what form that something would take was as yet unclear. It is impossible to say how such assurances come into being; whether it is the result of the concentrated and deliberate effort of the artist himself, along with his friends and someone with power and a vested interest, in other words the effort of many, or whether it is something of a cosmic and fateful nature. But the origins of such beliefs as “he is up and coming” or “he’s hot” or “she’s going places” are as obscure and impossible to trace as the origins of a joke. Who can tell how such rumors get started and how they grow into an accepted truth? Is it merely the constant repetition of one person telling another? Cocktail parties, bars, and other gallery openings are breeding grounds for that kind of information, but they alone are not solely responsible. The question is as confounding as it is intriguing: how is it that certain artists become all the rage while others slip ever more inexorably into oblivion? It cannot be talent and talent alone which is the deciding factor, nor is the facile maxim of being in the right place at the right time an adequate explanation to elucidate this mystery. And in America, where self-worth and success in anything are measured by popularity and money, where success has been exalted to a kind of religion, the mystery of who succeeds and how they succeed, the sheer glamour of success and successful people, has become a national obsession. But mysteries do not remain mysteries for very long in America -- they are swiftly dispatched, transformed into puzzles, problems with logical solutions, formulas that need only be studied, applied and worked out; hence the never-ending flood of information about success and successful people. Americans, with their jackpot mentality, love a good Horatio Alger-type success story -- it inspires them, it brings out the best in the national character, and it provides an example which, if scrutinized long and hard enough, will yield up, like hieroglyphics for those who have learned how to read them, all of the secrets of wisdom necessary to emulate success. And if success is a pseudo religion, then those who succeed are automatically the clergy of that religion, the high priests and priestesses, the wizards, warlocks, and witches. Success endows those fortunate few with an irresistible magnetism, and before they know it, willy-nilly, they have become the figurehead of a new cult. But for those who need more than money to make their lives meaningful, there is always art . . . no, Art . . . to take the place of the old mysticism, and so the galleries, theatres, and lecture halls become the new temples for the observance of this new-found religion. And so it was that in Soho, that refurbished area of chic boutiques and cast-iron facades where immigrants from the Lower East Side once groaned in sweatshops and factories now converted into designer lofts where artists languish in creative torment and existential angst, the faithful were flocking to the Omphalos Gallery on West Broadway between Prince and Spring Streets, just south of

Houston. The one-woman exhibition there was called “Motherlode” and it consisted entirely of paintings in various media of the female reproductive system.

The vernissage was scheduled for the customary five to seven on a Friday evening, and the obligatory wine-and-cheese was being served. An oak table was set up with the wheels of brie, hunks of Havarti, blocks of cheddar, and a bushel basket of baguettes and several smaller baskets filled with crackers; there were many jugs of wine lined up, mostly California chablis but also a few of rosé and one of burgundy. The wine was being served in plastic cups and the cheese, on bread or crackers, was being eaten off napkins. The gallery was one huge barn-like open space crammed full of people munching, drinking, and chattering. This particular gathering of the faithful was outfitted in fashions that ran from one end of the spectrum to the other: from classic conservative to outlandishly bizarre. Many of those who were wearing flashy clothes seemed to have dressed as though under the impression that they and not the paintings were the works of art to be gazed at and admired.

The people filled the floor, and the paintings took up every bit of available wall space. The individual canvases themselves were enormous, ranging in height from six to fifteen feet with none of them smaller than a double-sized bed sheet. The theme of the show, as mentioned, was birth and the female reproductive system, every aspect of which, from conception through delivery, was explored in the most explicit detail. One work, entitled “The Black Hole,” showed a pair of thighs spread open to the widest possible degree, with all the layers of the genitalia, the outer and inner labia, revealed and magnified for microscopic inspection. Another, called “Circle of Birth,” was a gigantic canvas depicting seven women giving birth simultaneously. Accompanying this painting, which was executed in kaleidoscopic images, there were seven smaller pieces, each showing a close-up of the birthing women’s faces, some of which grimaced with pain while others were serene and radiant with the joy of motherhood. “Circle of Birth,” together with its satellite paintings, comprised the centerpiece of the exhibition, a sort of culmination of the theme, and it was overpoweringly stunning by virtue of both its size and the excellence of its realistic detail. Although there were some paintings which included men, mostly portrayed as sexual partners, carriers of the seed, and passive witnesses to the birth, the show was de- voted entirely to women and this unique female experience. To Trish Weaver, the exhibit was a comprehensive statement, a summing up of the agonizing, euphoric, and ultimately solitary pleasure of giving birth, with men presented appropriately as mere adjuncts.

Most of the people who attended the opening were women -- artists, professionals, journalists -- and the excitement was running high. Amid this scintillating constellation, Trish Weaver was a luminary of special brightness, a recognizable face whose presence bestowed a certain honor and dignity upon the occasion, as it was well known that her principles were beyond reproach and that her participation gave the imprimatur of a coalition of many intellectual and very fastidious feminists. This was acknowledged by the fact that the artist, a middle-aged Jewess with short black hair shot with streaks of silver, spoke to her without arrogance or condescension.

Slow Art

The more I listen to Bach’s cello suites, the more emotionally satisfying they become. They are meant to be savored, like a snifter of the finest cognac. One doesn’t gulp down a superior cognac, one swirls it around in the glass, breathes in the aroma, and sips it slowly. Would it be hubristic to compare my work to Bach’s cello suites? What I mean is that I believe my paintings deserve slow and careful contemplation. A lot of contemporary art can be taken in with a single glance. The images, like so much in our modern society, are intended for quick consumption, and they do not merit prolonged viewing. By contrast, my art rewards the viewer who takes the time to look at it in a leisurely and thoughtful manner. They are meant for slow gazing. They are slow art.

The Economics of Life in San Miguel

HOUSING and STUDIO SPACE

If you are planning to move to San Miguel for at least a year or more, do it by the beginning of 2016 if possible. Rent prices are going up fast.  Rent for a decent 2 bedroom with studio space and a patio in the middle-class bohemian neighborhoods of San Antonio and Guadalupe used to go for around $4000 pesos. Now the same size houses are renting for $400-500 USD if you rent from gringos. Most expat landlords (and there are quite a few) are setting rents in dollars rather than pesos. That’s significant because of the strength of the dollar (now at 16.40 pesos). Obviously it’s a better deal if you can pay rent in pesos, which means renting from a Mexican owner. Soon even they will be renting in dollars, or dollar equivalents.

FOOD

The cost of a good meal in a decent restaurant is going up. A full-course broiled salmon lunch used to cost 140 pesos – it’s now 200 pesos. Tikka chicken at a curry house was 95 pesos and is now 150 pesos. Chicken parmaggiano at a family-run Olive Garden-type Italian restaurant is 120 pesos, but over 200 pesos at a finer place. Wine will cost at least 70 pesos a glass, beer 30 pesos minimum. Of course there are many small family-run restaurants where you can eat good Mexican food for 50 to 100 ´pesos. A buffet in Centro charges 70 pesos for all you can eat. The one gringo-run restaurant exception is a popular place called Cafe Monet – a decent sandwich goes for 50 pesos and the daily special will set you back about 80 or 90 – they’ve held their prices down for years without compromising the quality of the food and the old world decor.

There are two major supermarkets in town, Soriana and Mega. Their prices are inching up. You and your partner will spend an average of 900 pesos per week if you buy a lot of meat, 750 if you only buy chicken and fish for four meals. Plan to spend more if you want beer and wine. A six-pack of good Mexican cerveza goes for an average of 70 pesos. Table wine from Carlo Rossi is 82 pesos; anything else from California, Europe or South America is in the 150-250 peso range.

CLOTHING

Good, durable clothing is hard to come by in San Miguel. At Liverpool, the Macy’s equivalent, you will pay 900 pesos for a pair of Dockers or Levis for men, 800 pesos for a shirt, and 800 pesos for Flexi shoes (excellent quality and made in Mexico). Women will have to pay considerably more. However, women can shop at consignment shops (there are many), but none for men for some odd reason. Every one, children and adults, can find an occasional bargain at the tianguis – a huge open market that is open once a week, and there are smaller markets in almost every neighborhood where you can shop 7 days a week.

IN CONCLUSION

San Miguel remains a relatively inexpensive place for artists to live and work, but this may not last much longer. The SOHO effect is taking hold here. Artists have made this city a truly wonderful place, and now the affluent are moving in and driving up prices. 

"We Are Sick of Frida"

Someone in town is holding an “I’m sick of Frida” fashion show. I couldn’t agree more. Some times I can imagine I hear a great cry going up from the city of San Miguel: "WE ARE SICK OF FRIDA!" Yes, we are sick and tired of the exploitation of Frida Kahlo. Time to let go and move ahead with something new. There are certainly many other equally important and interesting Mexican artists, artists such as Rufino Tamayo, Federico Cantu Garza, and Leonora Carrington .  Here's some biographical information about these artists courtesy of Wikipedia:

Rufino Tamayo (August 26, 1899 – June 24, 1991) was a Mexican painter of Zapotec heritage, born in Oaxaca de Juarez, Mexico. Tamayo was active in the mid-20th century in Mexico and New York, painting figurative-abstraction with surrealist influences.

Federico Heraclio Cantú Garza (March 3, 1907 – January 29, 1989) was a Mexican painter, engraver and sculptor. While considered to be a member of the Mexican muralism movement, his style was noticeably different, mostly for adhering to older and more academic forms of painting and sculpture. He had his most success exhibiting in the United States and Europe, but he did murals and sculptures in Mexico.

Leonora Carrington OBE (6 April 1917 – 25 May 2011) was a British-born Mexican artist, surrealist painter, and novelist. She lived most of her adult life in Mexico City, and was one of the last surviving participants in the Surrealist movement of the 1930s. Leonora Carrington was also a founding member of the Women’s Liberation Movement in Mexico during the 1970s.