Pan
American Unity
Diego
Rivera's Dramatic Interlude
With
Trotsky
Elsie Casler
"I believe in order to make an American art, a real American art, will be necessary this blending of the art of the Indian, the Mexican, the Eskimo with the kind of urge which makes the machine, the invention in the material side of life, which is also the artistic urge-the same urge primarily but in a different form of expression."
-Diego Rivera in conversation with
Dorothy Puccinelli
V
|
isual
art has the ability, as no other medium has, to synthesize and concentrate in
potent symbolic form the events of an era.
Viewing a piece of art can have the sensory effect of transporting the
observer to another time as if through a portal to another dimension. In 1940 Diego Rivera, the renowned Mexican
artist and muralist, created such a work of art when he painted the Pan
American Unity Mural, which is now housed in the lobby of the Diego Rivera
Theater at San Francisco City College.
Timothy Pfleuger, one of San Francisco’s premier architects,
commissioned Rivera to paint the mural for the Golden Gate International
Exposition (GGIE) that was held on Treasure Island during 1939-40. His work was the centerpiece of the Art In
Action exhibit that featured many different artists engaged in creating works
during the Exposition while the public watched. At the time that the mural was created Diego Rivera was perhaps
the most famous Mexican artist in the world.
He was friends and colleagues with major players in the international
art world, such as Pablo Picasso and André Breton, and he lived his own life,
like his personal dimensions, in large, broad flamboyant strokes. Rivera's Pan American Unity Mural is both a
time capsule of the events that surrounded its creation as well as representative
of the evolution of the ideology that underlay the Mexican Muralism Movement as
understood and experienced by Rivera.
The mural is constructed in five panels
that are ordered from left to right.
Panel One's theme is "The Creative Genius of the South Growing from
Religious Fervor and the Native Talent for Plastic Expression." This panel is cross-referenced with Panel
Five's theme, "The Creative Culture of the North Developing from the
Necessity of Making Life Possible in a New and Empty Land." Panel Two's theme, "Elements from the
Past and Present" cross-references Panel Four's which is, "Trends of
Creative Effort in the United States, The Rise of Woman in Various Fields of
Creative Endeavor Through her Use of the Power of Manmade Machinery." Finally, the central and third Panel
represents the overarching theme of the mural, "The Plastification of the
Creative Power of the Northern Mechanism by Union with the Plastic Tradition of
the South."[1] The intricacy of the mural lies in the
reflexive quality of the outer panels that lead the viewer's eye to the central
panel containing the artist's underlying intent and overarching theme of Pan
American Unity. While the biography of
Rivera by Patrick Marnham and Anthony Lee's examination of San Francisco's Public
Murals painted during the 1930s and 40s, Painting
on the Left, present the Pan American Unity mural in some respects as a
lesser work of the artist, the mural is nonetheless an important historical
document in regards to its symbolism and content.
The themes presented in the mural are
universal and as large as the events that engulfed the world, as well as
Rivera's personal life, during that time.
His stormy and passionate marriage to Frida Kahlo, a famous artist in
her own right, as well as his relationship to the world of revolutionary
politics would inform his efforts to paint this mural. The message of Pan American Unity had
evolved out of the Mexican muralist project overseen by José Vasconcelos,
Minister of Education under the Mexican president Alvaro Obregón's
administration, and expounded in the minister's philosophy which he expressed
in his work La Raza Cósmica. The evolution of the concept of Pan American
Unity also ran parallel to the evolution of international events ranging from
the end of Porfiro Diaz's reign in Mexico and the world's entanglement in World
War One to the looming destruction of World War Two. There was for Rivera a convergence of the ideological conflict
embodied by the evolution of the Russian and Mexican Revolutions as seen from
his vantage point in Mexico at the end of the 1930s. This would be crystallized by a brief interlude spent as host to
Trotsky, the once-commander of the Red Army in the Russian Revolution, during
which time Rivera's personal and political worlds would collide. There is evidence of specific events that
had current import to the period of time that the mural was created. Likewise there is the essence of an
overarching dialectic in the mural that wrestles with how human society would
progress from the shambles it seemed to be in at the moment to a better
future. The thematic sweep of history
and humanity's struggle for self-determination are interwoven with Rivera's
imagery representative of two important aspects of his life besides his
artistic creativity: politics and love.
Rivera captured all of it in his mural, like a snapshot of himself and
his world displayed within his own creation.
Politics were an integral part of life
for Diego Rivera. This perspective came
from his personal political journey that was enmeshed with the history of
Mexico. This history was contained in
the folklore that as a youth he saw depicted in the etchings of José Guadalupe
Posada. Posada’s art greatly influenced
Rivera's own incorporation of myth and folklore into his mural
representations. Within Mexican
folklore was space for the survival of traditions that were primarily
pre-conquest. "It was he
(Posada)," Rivera writes in his autobiography, My Art, My Life, "who revealed to me the inherent beauty in
the Mexican people, their struggle and aspirations."[2] The Spanish had attempted to acculturate the
indigenous societies and thus assimilate and eliminate the most foreign aspects
of Indian culture from Mexican society.
But the reality that would be embraced by Revolutionary Mexico, even in
the somewhat corrupted form it took during the post-Porfiriato, would be the
mixture of cultures that were uniquely Mexican. Hence, the mestizo and indigenismo projects were encouraged in
the hope of developing a national cultural identity that would lend its support
to the newly established and seemingly ever-besieged government of Mexico. This was attempted most earnestly under the
rule of Alvaro Obregón, from 1920-24.[3]
The Liberty Tree, depicted in Panel Two,
portrays the founders of the Independence Movements of both Anglo and Latin
America. Rivera's symbolism draws a
parallel that reflects the common heritage of liberal ideology and the struggle
for equality that both regions shared.
He reflects the theme of Pan American Unity in this panel with Hidalgo,
Morelos and Bolivar standing next to Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln, with
John Brown exhorting the crowd to revolt against slavery. Jefferson holds a document on which his famous
words are written that read, "The Tree of Liberty needs to be refreshed
from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants."[4] Lincoln holds the Gettysburg Address
rededicating a nation divided to the principles of representative government
and union "of the people, by the people and for the people." Hidalgo holds a document with a list that
reads, "Abolition of Slavery in Mexico by Hidalgo, Dec. 6, 1810 -- In
South America by Bolivar, 1819-1821; In the United States by Lincoln Jan.1, 1863;
Panama Conference for Pan American Union called by Bolivar, 1826." All of these images contrast to the
decapitated and amputated image of the tree of liberty, still standing and
strong enough to support the work of the weaver whose loom is supported by it,
but whittled away nonetheless. This
echoes the threatening words of another American revolutionary, Thomas Paine,
who wrote that "the price of liberty is constant vigilance." At the moment Rivera was painting this mural
at the GGIE, liberty was seriously threatened by events in Europe and elsewhere. The tree of liberty must have appeared to be
in danger of being pulled up by the roots.
Vasconcelos' work, which was published in
1924, stated prophetically that "there is a certain fatality in the
destiny of nations, as well as in the destiny of individuals, but now that a
new phase of history has been initiated, it becomes necessary to reconstruct
our ideology and organize our continental life according to a new ethnic
doctrine."[5] According to Vasconcelos, this doctrine was
one that the nation of Mexico was predestined to obey as "the cradle of a
fifth race into which all nations will fuse with each other to replace the four
races that have been forging History apart from each other."[6] This philosophy would be broadcast in the
images of Mexico's history depicted in murals on public buildings. In his role as minister of education under
Obregón, the development of the Revolutionary Art Movement, as epitomized by
Mexican Muralism, would be the vanguard of a pictorial education for the
masses. It would go hand in hand with
Vasconcelos' literacy program for the proletariat and peasant classes. The Ministry's patronage of the Muralists
would be "a means of fostering pride in the achievements of the people."[7] Such a pictorial course was approved by the
state, regardless of the more radical views depicted in the murals by the
artists. A visual attack was believed
necessary to jump-start the process of legitimizing revolution for the
traditionally conservative peasants.
Educating the illiterate segments of the population to their role in a
society transformed by revolution was the job of the Muralists. Their work "served to consolidate a
state ideology of common citizenship and progressive nationalism."[8]
The atmosphere that informed and
encouraged Rivera's work as well as the work of his fellow members' in the
Syndicate of Technical Workers, Painters, and Sculptors was one of celebration
of all things mestizo, but more specifically Indian. José Clemente Orozco writes in his autobiography that within
Mexico in 1920
excitement over the plastic work of the
contemporary indigenes was at its height...Extreme nationalism put in an
appearance. Mexican artists considered
themselves the equals or the superiors of foreigners. Their themes had necessarily to be Mexican. The cult of the Worker was more sharply
defined: 'Art at the service of the Worker.'
It was believed that art must be essentially an offensive weapon in the
Conflict of the Classes."[9]
All
of this was incorporated into and a product of the official philosophy of the
post-revolutionary government in Mexico and it was the foundation for continued
government support of the muralists' projects as well as represented in much of
their work. Unfortunately, from the
rule of Obregón to that of Cardenas and beyond, Rivera's and Vansconcelos'
idealism was betrayed by the official reality.
Besides some land distribution and nationalization of private industry
under Cardenas, the power in Mexico remained in the control of caudillos who
represented the criollo/mestizo upper class.
Basically the government was still an oligarchy consisting of new
landowners and entrepreneurs. The most
successful aspect of institutionalizing the idea of the Revolution in Mexico
would be the Muralist project, but the very success of such openly critical and
radical art would be an embarrassment to the ruling class in Mexico.
Such tensions would push artists like
Rivera to broaden these sentiments beyond the nationalist intention that
underlay the state sponsorship of muralism in Mexico. By the time of Rivera's work on the Pan American Unity Mural
these sentiments would have blossomed fully.
Yet, homage is paid to the motivating ideology, depicted in Panel One of
the Pan American Unity Mural, with echoes of the Indigenismo movement loudly
proclaimed. Alan Knight explains the depth of meaning that the representation
of Indian culture had for the Mexican Muralists in his essay, "Racism,
Revolution, and Indigenismo: Mexico,
1910-1940." It was these artists
who were the "most celebrated representatives of this new official
philosophy...who provided pictorial affirmation of Indian valor, nobility,
suffering, and achievement, which they set against a revived black legend of
Spanish oppression."[10] Although little real positive effects would
result from this message of respect for Indians, the Muralists, like Rivera,
who included this idea in their works of art, embraced the elevation of all
oppressed people as part of their personal revolutionary philosophy. It is striking then, when looking at the Pan
American Unity Mural, to observe the contrast in the overall image presented by
Rivera of pre-contact Indian cultures and Latin-American crafts people hard at
meaningful work, to the myth current in the United States in 1940 that branded
Mexicans with the racist stereotypes of laziness and thievery. This was the favorite propaganda used by a
nation with a guilty conscious. In 1848
the United States acquired, some would say it had stolen, the southwest
territories that included California from Mexico. It seems a straightforward commentary on the racist views held in
the United States towards Mexico and with which Rivera would have been well
acquainted. On another level, as
Anthony Lee points out, the artisans depicted can be read as being engaged in
the task of merely manufacturing tourist items, thus ironically gesturing for
the observer and visitor to "The Pageant of the Pacific" to see the
"ethnic entertainment and native commodities" as the demeaning of
indigenous tradition.[11] Rivera is able to make this statement subtly
by using his imagery on multiple levels and this gives profound sentiment to
the mural.
This belies Patrick Marnham’s comment
about the mural found in his recent biography of Diego Rivera, that "Pan American Unity is outstanding
illustration...but it does not move us."[12] If one considers the fact that the portrayal
of Indian civilization in the mural is at one and the same time a reflection of
the Indigenismo movement of
post-revolutionary Mexico, central to the theme of unity between the American
North and South as the origin of the gifts that the South has to contribute, as
well as the mural’s silent commentary on the racism generally exhibited towards
Latin America by the United States, it becomes hard to countenance Marnham's
statement of disregard. The images of
Women, Workers, Peasants, Artists and Crafts people, although perhaps not as
strident as similar images in other murals by Rivera, do carry a quiet dignity
that stands in mute witness to the depth and complexity of the imagery. Throughout the mural these everymen and
everywomen are a reflection of the evolution of Rivera's understanding of
revolutionary ideology. In this regard
it is interesting to also note the relative absence of people of color from the
part of mural concerned with the North's contribution. The commentary that this absence makes on
race relations in the United States is biting, but not overt. The only person of color is depicted in
Panel Five and appears to be a mission Indian laborer, but his face is downcast
and indistinct and he works at a mill wheel without relief. Directly under this image is further
commentary on the subjects of race and class in the image of a wood carver
making a Cigar Store Indian. The wood
carver is mirrored above in Panel Four by the representation of a masthead
carver, who in the age of industrial technology has become as extinct as the
native culture of the North that the wooden Indian in traditional dress
symbolizes. There is thoughtful
complexity to the Pan American Unity Mural that is multi-layered in its
symbolism and as politically committed as Rivera's other murals, although
perhaps not as rigidly married to specific ideology.
This low-key approach may have been
intentional on the part of Rivera in order not to antagonize the United States'
own view of itself as a guardian of liberty and democracy. His hope that the United States would enter
the war against Hitler's Germany might have encouraged him to broaden the
philosophy beyond Vasconcelos' nationalist vision to incorporate all the
Americas into a unified whole dedicated to resisting fascism and
totalitarianism. Rivera was an
internationalist by virtue of his personal travels and experiences as well as
his choice of political affiliation.
This fact stemmed as well from the parallel evolution of the two
revolutionary societies of Mexico and Russia and Rivera's experiences in
both. He was a founding member of
Communist Party of Mexico in 1922.
Following a visit to Moscow in 1927 Rivera resigned, had himself
expelled, or was expelled, depending on which version you read, from the
Mexican Communist Party in 1928. His
hopes for revolution, like the hopes of many others, were great. One would expect he would have been greatly
disturbed by the repressive direction taken by post-revolutionary Stalinist
Russia. What would be more unappealing
to an independent artistic spirit?
Conformity. Therefore it is no
wonder that he very early sought membership in the International Communist
League affiliated with Trotsky's opposition to Stalinism. He would even co-author, with Trotsky and
André Breton, father of the Surrealist movement, a manifesto entitled "For
an Independent Revolutionary Art," which called for an "International
Federation of Revolutionary Writers and Artists to resist totalitarian
encroachments on literature and the arts."[13] William Richardson clarifies Rivera's
relationship to the political ideologies that were close to his heart:
It was never the doctrines of revolution
that appealed to him. Instead he
responded emotionally to human misery and the exploitation of one man by
another. He wanted revolution as part
of his utopian hope for change and improvement of the lot of the poor. His enthusiasm for Russian Marxism-Leninism
was a result of the promise, not its 'method' or its practice.[14]
Thus
he saw his artistic endeavors in muralism as "his duty as an artist and a
citizen to keep the revolution alive on the walls...even if it had died in the
hearts of government officials."[15] All of these issues and events seem to have
drawn Rivera to a conclusion about the Americas as whole that was similar to the Muralists conclusion
about Mexico specifically, that a new art, and ideology to define it, must be
born from the experiences in the Americas. It could not merely be copied from a European heritage that only
partially represented the richer heritage of the complete populations of the
Americas. Hayden Herrera's observation
of Frida Kahlo's art is telling in regards to the idea of a purely American Art
and seems to reflect Rivera's viewpoint as well.
Frida's outlook was vastly different from
that of the Surrealists. Her art was
not the product of a disillusioned European culture searching for an escape
from the limits of logic by plumbing the subconscious. Instead, her fantasy was a product of her
temperament, life, and place; it was a
way of coming to terms with reality, not of passing beyond reality into another
realm.[16]
Rivera's own style, like Kahlo's, also
contained the elements of magical realism, an artistic genre which some claim
originated in the art and literature of Latin America. In fact, Franz Roh coined the term in an
essay published in 1925 as the next phase for art post Expressionism. The concept refers to the fantastic portrayed
against a realistic backdrop. Gabriel
Garcia Marquez, Colombian author of many literary works crafted in the style of
magical realism, explains that this artform is one that is able to take
"something which appears fantastic, unbelievable" and transform it
"into something plausible, credible...by tell[ing] it straight, as is done
by reporters and by country folk."[17] Rivera's work on Pan American Unity reflects
an understanding of this genre; the imagery in the mural is the personification
of Rivera's thematic call for an original art form.
Although Patrick Marnham, like Anthony
Lee and Bertram Wolfe, is right to point out the contradictory and amorphous
nature of Rivera's political beliefs and loyalties none, of Rivera's
biographers give the proper emphasis to the advent and evolution of truly novel
international political structures that had come about in Russia and Mexico
during the artist's lifetime. The
shifting growth of understanding about the ideologies as they were put into
application would, one would think, encourage an open minded person to be
somewhat fluid in the boundaries of their own personal ideology. The very fact that Rivera was an artist made
him inherently concentrated on distilling his individual essence. He certainly cannot be accused of being a
conformist. This fact also made him an
astute observer. Perhaps Rivera was
less willing to blindly embrace dangers he had seen with his own eyes arising
from the absolutist interpretation of revolutionary ideology. This path seemed only to contribute to
demagoguery and totalitarianism that was occurring in Russia under Stalin in
the late 1920's. Rivera was traveling
in Europe, under the auspices of a grant from the Mexican government awarded by
Vasconcelos, to study frescos in Italy.[18] It actually was a good period for Rivera to
find work elsewhere, since Plutarcho Elías Calles, who succeeded Obregón in
1924 as president of Mexico, did not like the Muralist Movement. Supporters of the new president called for
him to destroy Rivera's work because it made people look like monkeys.[19] Still, William Richardson, in his article,
"The Dilemmas of a Communist Artist:
Diego Rivera in Moscow, 1927-28," makes the pertinent point that
not until Rivera's experience in Moscow in 1927, where Stalin had begun to
consolidate his power, did it become evident that he could not remain undecided
about totalitarianism.
By 1928 he was faced with a choice that
would have an impact on his position in the USSR and with his Mexican
comrades: he could bend to the demands
of the neotraditionalists increasingly supported by the government, or he could
throw in his lot with the innovators who appeared to be fighting a losing
battle.[20]
Rivera
believed that in whatever style a public mural was painted, as long as the message
were clear the public would gain an opportunity to not only raise their
political consciousness, but to improve their level of understanding and
appreciation of art. Thus, the artist
would have fulfilled his duty to the worker and his artistic contribution would
not be an obstacle to progress in the field.[21] Rivera seems to have had a greater
estimation of the public's power of intellect to grasp the avante garde and
experimental than his comrades.
Contrary to this was the Stalinist view
espoused by the Party organization, the Association of Artists of Revolutionary
Russia (AKhRR),
which stressed that forms of art had to be "realistic and comprehensible
to the broad masses of the workers".[22] This would make official commissions
difficult to come by in Mexico as well as abroad, within radical circles. Access to large commissions in the
capitalist art circles of North America were already difficult to come by due
to the controversy that surrounded some of Rivera's projects there in the late
1920's, early 1930's. The Michigan
public for whom it had been painted had rejected the industrial imagery of the
Detroit Institute of Art murals as inappropriate. The Rockefeller Center Mural was destroyed because of its
communist paean to Lenin and Trotsky that was unacceptable to arch capitalist
John D. Rockefeller, whose son Nelson was the patron who had commissioned the
work. Rivera was an artist unwilling to
compromise his vision and had paid dearly for his attitude by the time of the
commission from Pfleuger.
When
Pfleuger traveled to Mexico City in the spring of 1940 to invite Rivera back to
San Francisco, he met the painter at a most propitious moment. In the arena of Mexican politics Rivera was
a self-declared Almazánist with an uncomfortable antilabor agenda. On the international leftist stage he had
recently broken with Trotsky, perhaps the only major leftist who championed his
work. Behind his perimeter wall, he
continued to be targeted by Stalinists for harboring a treasonous
criminal. His artistic skills were
called into question; his major competitors were at work on grand projects; and
he had received no major commission in years.
He greeted Pflueger enthusiastically and by June was back in San
Francisco.[23]
Certainly,
as Lee contends here, it was an opportune moment for Rivera to get out of
town. But it does not detract from the
Rivera's commitment to voice his protest to the violence occurring in the world
at that time.
As has already been discussed, Rivera's
experience of Stalin's early repression of Soviet society made him question
absolute obedience to ideology dictated by such a will. Likewise Rivera had early experiences of
Hitler prior to WWII. Once again his
artist's sense and keen observation noticed the danger of Hitler much earlier than
his friend, Meuzenberg, a German member of the Communist Party. When he visited Berlin in 1928, five years
before Hitler would be elected chancellor, Meuzenberg and his fellow German
comrades referred to Adolf as the "funny little man."[24] But as Rivera watched Hitler deliver a
speech in front of the headquarters building of the Communist Party in Berlin
he was not amused.
As
he left, Hitler’s followers closed ranks around him with every sign of devoted
loyalty. Thaelmann and Meunzenberg
laughed like schoolboys...I actually felt depressed...I was filled with
forebodings. I had a premonition that,
if the armed Communists here permitted Hitler to leave this place alive, he
might live to cut off both my comrades heads in a few years...[25]
Unfortunately, his intuition would prove
correct and his friends would be among the victims of the holocaust. Rivera would become familiar with the terror
of the war as refugees. Some fellow
artists like Max Ernst were escaping similar fates and sought sanctuary in Mexico. Events began to be personally threatening to
the artist. Gestapo agents visited
Rivera.[26] He informed the authorities about a
submarine refueling ship anchored under the disguise of a German merchant
vessel.[27] Stalinist agents, in the guise of Loyalist
refugees who had been granted asylum after Franco won the Spanish Civil War,
were ever present in Mexico at the time.[28] So, Rivera's level of concern must have been
very great indeed when Hitler and Stalin agreed to an alliance between Russia
and Germany and signed the Non-aggression Pact of 1939. This event seems to have cemented Rivera's
belief that the United States needed to enter the war in order for conflict to
end. It was imperative to engage the
United States in conflict as the it was the most powerful industrial nation at
the time and the most untainted by collaboration with these forces of
tyranny. The Pfleuger commission for
the Pan American Unity Mural was a perfect vehicle for this purpose.
Given this atmosphere of uncertainty and
desperation as well as Rivera's own involvement in international intrigue, much
of which would ultimately surround the persecuted revolutionary leader in
exile, Trotsky, it is not surprising that the artist's concerns are made
apparent in the Mural. Rivera's awareness
of GPU (the Soviet secret police) and Gestapo activity in Mexico might have led
to suspicions about his government's loyalty, leading in turn to Rivera's break
in support of his friend Cardenas and his inexplicable support of a right wing
challenger, Alvaras.[29] In Panel Four Rivera inundates the viewer
with multitudes of Hitlers amplifying his warning of danger, a danger that
seemed to be literally stalking him, his loved ones, and the world. While it does not speak directly to the
theme of Pan American Unity it does so indirectly by portraying the artist's
desire for resistance to fascism and totalitarianism. It is also a contrast to the heritage of struggles for liberty
and equality that the people of the Americas share, as Rivera depicts in Panel
Two. He has also placed Stalin in
triumvirate with Hitler and Mussolini.
Stalin, who at one point was part of the Revolutionary leadership of the
great Soviet experiment, was now the murderer of a fellow Revolutionary,
Trotsky. Stalin is shown holding the
murder weapon that was wielded by a proxy assassin in Mexico City a short while
after Rivera had left to begin the mural in San Francisco. The imagery of Hitler is actually drawn from
the film "The Great Dictator" by Charlie Chaplin, whom Rivera admired
and with whom he would later became friends. The film had not yet been released
when Rivera saw a preview of it. By
placing such imagery in the mural Rivera sought to encourage the United States
to enter WWII by acknowledging the uniquely American art form of film, but at
the same time he got to make a statement using images of the current conflict
at hand. This part of Panel Four,
although somewhat out of context with the broader theme, places the work in
specific time. The Hitler panel makes
clear the difference between the heritage of liberty in America and that of
totalitarian dictatorships current then in Europe. Perhaps, as Lee points out, "in public discourse nearly all
the formalized leftist positions were closed to him as defensible
options."[30] Thus Pan American Unity and the mural's
seemingly amorphous humanist position were the only defensible positions Rivera
could take in the face of the Communist Party's acceptance of Stalin's
contradictory relationship with Hitler and his own support of Alvaras.
The circumstances surrounding Rivera's
acceptance of the commission at Golden Gate International Exposition were
personally, as well as politically, motivated.
The events that immediately preceded the assassination of Trotsky were
tragic and dramatic, and Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo would be participants in
the final chapter of this legendary life.
This period for Rivera was closely associated to one of the two
important aspects of life for Rivera -- his love for and relationship with his
wife, Frida Kahlo. The effect of this
emotion is also prominently depicted in the Mural. Lev Davidovich Bronstein, who is known to history as Trotsky, had
lived the life of a fugitive since Stalin had exiled him from Soviet Russia in
1929.[31] He was a man who stood alone against Stalin
as the rest of those who opposed him began to crumble under the pressure of the
Purge Trials. These trials commenced in
the 1930s and resulted in the execution of thousands. Trotsky had sought refuge in Turkey, France and Norway and had
successively, along with his wife, been kicked out of one country after
another. Comrades, associates and even
his children were systematically being eliminated, killed or imprisoned, by the
GPU. "I know I am condemned,"
Patrick Marnham quotes Trotsky as saying.
"Stalin is enthroned in Moscow with more power and resources at his
disposal than any of the Tsars. I am
alone with a few friends and almost no resources, against a powerful
killing-machine...So what can I do?"[32]
Things were in a desperate state when he made his way to Mexico in 1937 and the
sanctuary Rivera had secured for him, but once he was safe he proceeded to
actively plan and participate in The Joint Commission of Inquiry in the Moscow
Trial. This was a counter-trial to
Stalin's purge trials at which Trotsky was being accused of heinous crimes
against the state. The trial was held
in Frida Kahlo's family home, Casa Azul located in Coyoacán and was chaired by
North American philosopher John Dewey[33]. The house was placed at Trotsky’s and his
wife Natalya's disposal for which they were most grateful. "It was gratifying, even thrilling, for
Trotsky and Natalya to find refuge with such friends," Deutscher writes.[34]
Trotsky and Kahlo were drawn together and
had an affair for many reasons. This
was not the first time that there had been infidelity in the Kahlo/Rivera
household. Diego was a notorious
womanizer and Frida had affairs as well.
For Trotsky one can only imagine the exhilaration of being in a
beautiful country and close to a beautiful woman. He still faced imminent danger, but with a fire in the belly from
his recent legal battle, successfully defending himself against Stalin's
charges. He could not have been aware
that he was entering a relationship that was like a minefield. His own despair is evidenced by his
oblivious treatment of his loyal and loving wife, Natalya, who had suffered and
survived so much alongside her husband, from the days of the Russian Revolution
until their time together in Mexico.
While terror and loneliness might have heightened Trotsky's need to feel
alive, Frida's participation in the affair with "el viejo," as she called him, was perhaps motivated more out
of revenge. Rivera previously had an
affair with Kahlo's sister, Cristina, and this affair seemed the pinnacle of
betrayal out of the multitude of liaisons in which Rivera seems to have
engaged.[35] Besides this fact, Cristina may have been
the one to inform Diego of Frida's affair with his revered guest, as she was in
her sister's confidence and does not appear to have been happy that her affair
with Rivera had ended.[36] But, however it came to be known, Rivera
seems to have considered it unacceptable behavior on the part of his
guest. The artist also appears to have
seen this relationship as a breech of the double standard by which Diego and
Frida lived. He was to be allowed his
affairs, but did not want Frida's liaisons to be publicly known as it would
make him seem a cuckold, which would besmirch his masculinity. This preferred arrangement allowed Rivera to
avoid tarnishing his macho persona, but the affair between Kahlo and Trotsky
was a threat to this arrangement. After
all, Rivera had used his influence with his friend, Lázaro Cárdenas, who had
been elected the president of Mexico in 1934, to gain Trotsky asylum
there. Initially, his empathy for
Trotsky’s plight must have been strong due to shared political beliefs and
respect for Trotsky's place in history as a father of the Russian Revolution. These feelings must have also, at least in
part, derived from Rivera's own fall from favor under the Calles regime in
1924, when his murals were attacked and defaced.[37] For a two-year period, from 1937 until 1939,
the Trotskys, Diego and Frida remained good friends.
Rivera's break with Trotsky does not seem
to have been motivated by political disagreement. It seems to have been motivated more by personal, rather than any
other factors, since the break occurred after he became aware of the affair
Trotsky had engaged in with Rivera's wife.
The effect that this information had on Rivera, who fancied himself a
disciple of Trotsky, can only be imagined.
Just as the artist never hinted at his anger towards Trotsky in the
public statements he made, so too did Trotsky continue to express mutual
reverence for Rivera as a revolutionary and an artist. Marnham writes that only a week after
Trotsky had moved out of the Casa Azul, Rivera, in an interview with a United
States news agency reporter "described Trotsky as 'a great man for
whom...I continue having the greatest admiration and respect."[38] Trotsky, even after the break in their
friendship and Rivera's support of Cárdenas' right-wing rival for the
presidency, Almazar, defended the artist against Stalinist attacks. Deutscher writes that Trotsky "expressed
undiminished admiration for the 'genius whose political blunderings could cast
no shadow either on his art or on his personal integrity.'" Trotsky wrote these words in 1939 for an
article entitled, "Ignorance is not a Weapon of Revolution."[39]
But the attempt on Trotsky's life that Rivera's old friend and fellow muralist,
David Alfaro Siqueiros, had organized and the successful assassination of
Trotsky by an agent of Stalin's which followed, were only possible because of
the split between Rivera and Trotsky.
This act of separation made the exiled Russian vulnerable to such an
attack. Marnham explains that Trotsky
was not only a guest of Rivera's, but of the nation of Mexico. Anything that was done to him would besmirch
the nation's honor, and the GPU agents in Mexico were under strict orders that
their ties to Moscow remain unknown.
All of this was not a concern to Stalin's agents once the protection of
one of Mexico's "most celebrated figures" had been withdrawn from
Trotsky.[40] It is unfortunate that such an unsubstantial
emotion as masculine pride should come between Rivera and Trotsky, but it is
hard to believe, given both men's continued public support of each other, that
there was very deep animosity since Rivera was not one to shy away from public confrontation
over politics.[41] Marnham mentions that because Kahlo and
Rivera never spoke of the events involving Trotsky that this is somehow
evidence that they did not think twice about the fate of the man they had both
called friend. It is just as likely
that this period of time was so traumatic and that each felt deeply the tragedy
of Trotsky's assassination on multiple levels.
Perhaps they did not speak of him because of the knowledge of their own
unintentional complicity in his death.
Certainly, the strength of the
Kahlo/Rivera relationship is evidenced by their reunion that occurred during
the creation of the Mural, just as the importance of their involvement with
Trotsky was evidenced by the separation and divorce that preceded it. The couple was remarried in San Francisco
after Frida was spirited out of Mexico by Rivera. Once he learned of Kahlo's ill health and her interrogation by
Mexican Police he had her come to San Francisco to be treated by their old
friend Dr. Eloesser. Following Trotsky's
assassination and Diego's separation from Frida, his wife had become distraught
and the stress of all of this had contributed to her ill health.[42] Dr. Eloesser, a physician friend Rivera knew
in San Francisco, suggested that Diego and Frida remarry as a remedy. This was something that Diego had been
attempting to finagle unsuccessfully ever since the couple had split up in
1939. But there would be a difference
in their relationship the second time around- double standards could not be
permitted, more honesty had to exist.
Dr. Eloesser admonished Frida not to expect anything different from
Rivera. "He has never been, nor
ever will be, monogamous."[43] Just as Rivera would never change, Kahlo did
not want be forced to either, so their reunion was accomplished on the basis of
a compromise -- they would remarry and share their lives, but they would no
longer be sexually intimate, thus avoiding the trap and pain of jealousy.[44]
There is much of this romantic turmoil
contained in the mural's depiction of women. The symbolism of women and what women and love meant to Diego is
contradictory in nature and this is reflected in their depictions in the Pan
American Unity Mural. He obviously felt
reverence by depicting Helen Crlenkovich, the 1939 national diving champion, as
the metaphoric bridge between time and space.
The female form is the supernatural conduit for the relationship between
North and South America. In the center
of the mural, presiding over all is Coatlicue, the Aztec Goddess of Life, Death
and the Earth.[45] For the Aztecs she was "Lady of the
Serpent Skirt," goddess of all
life, gods as well as humans, animate as well as inanimate.[46] For Rivera the creative spirit is embodied
in the ancient symbol of the sacred female that also reminds man of the humility
in the face of the great mysteries of death and of birth, which woman is so
intimately bound to by virtue of motherhood.
Yet the scars of the disillusionment Rivera experienced due to Trotsky
and Kahlo's betrayal (if it can accurately be called that, given the structure
of Rivera's and Kahlo's marriage up to that point) are evident too, but on a
more personal scale, not meant to compete with the larger image of the sacred
female. What's more, the personal disregard he
often showed for the women he was involved with, like the outright abandonment
of his first wife, Angelina Beloff, is also evident in the mural. His back is turned toward Frida while he
faces his current paramour at the time, the actress and wife of Charlie
Chaplin, Paulette Goddard. This imagery
is resonant with an insincere petulance of hurt pride, considering the numbers
of extramarital affairs in which Rivera participated. Still Rivera's love and respect is also apparent with Kahlo
positioned at the forefront of the mural.
She personifies the theme of unity by benefit of her German-Mexican
ancestry coupled with her pursuit of the plastic arts. Naturally there must have been conflicted and confused feelings on Rivera's
part, but the absence of Trotsky does not necessarily mean that Rivera did not
still admire the contributions of such an important man. In this regards he does make note of Trotsky
by placing a bloody icepick in Stalin's hand, the very weapon used to kill
Trotsky. Ill feelings towards his wife
are likewise arguable as Kahlo is not excluded from the painting either,
evidence of her continued importance to, and influence on, Rivera.
The universal image of the great mother,
as represented by the Aztec goddess Coatlicue, is at the heart of the symbolism
of the mural. In fact, it is featured
prominently in the mural's center as its unifying image. It is important as a symbol depicting the
union of North and South America, the machine and plastic arts. It also represents the power and importance
of the female as an embodiment of creativity. Finally, Rivera's Pan American
Unity Mural is an homage to the Indigenismo movement that was the impetus for
the official patronage of the Muralist movement in Mexico. There is hope in Rivera's imagery for a
unified and productive future not unlike the attitude Trotsky expressed in his
summary statement to the Dewey Commission:
The experience of my life, in which there
has been no lack of success or of failures, has not only not destroyed my faith
in the clear, bright future of mankind, but, on the contrary, has given it an
indestructible temper. This faith in
reason, in truth, in human solidarity...I have preserved fully and
completely. It has become more mature,
but not less ardent.[47]
While
there is a connection between Rivera's work on this mural and Trotsky's words,
there is as well in the work a reflection of the magnitude and immediacy of
events and conflicts in the world and in Rivera's own life at the time that
informed his creation of the Pan American Unity Mural.
The
success of Rivera’s Pan American Unity mural in relation to the Mexican (?)
muralists’ intent to serve as a source of mass education through public works
like this would be hard to gauge.
Certainly, it was a representation that was part of an to persuade the United
States to enter WWII on the Allied side.
Although the mural may not have been seen by the greater public, as was
the muralists’ goal, the fact of the mural's inaccessiblity is more
representative of the awkwardness that resulted from the splintering of the
left’s opposition to the rising tide of fascism than from any artistic and
political failure on the part of Rivera's creation. The mural was quickly crated after it was viewed by some 10,000
people in 1940. It remained stored
until 1961, when it was finally installed at City College of San
Francisco. For over twenty years no one
had the opportunity to view and decry, or ignore, the mural. Therefore it is difficult to countenance
Lee's assertion that the fact that the mural "was never shown to working-class
San Franciscans" somehow means that Rivera failed. In fact, Rivera's accepting the "Art in
Action" commission demonstrated that while there were mitigating personal
factors that made the offer appealing, Rivera remained faithful in his commitment
to the ideal of the muralist project: to create art for the public regardless
of what fate had in store for the finished artistic product. Even the fate of his Rockefeller Center
mural, which was ordered destroyed by its patron, would not deter Rivera from
using his art for the purpose of informing as well as depicting. As a visual representation of the theme of
Pan American Unity, the mural is an encapsulation of a specific period of time
that is an interpretation of global and personal events by the artist, Diego
Rivera. It is, as well, a
representation of the evolution of the ideology that underlay the muralist
movement pioneered by Rivera, Orozco, and Siqueiros in Mexico, an ideology that
would make its indelible mark outside their native country as well.
[1]Key to The Pan American Unity Mural, published by City College of San
Francisco, Public Information Office.
[2]Rivera, Diego (with Gladys March). My
Art, My Life: An Autobiography, (New York: The Citadel Press, 1960) Dover
Edition, 1991, 18.
[3]Williamson, Edwin. The
Penguin History of Latin America (London: Penguin Books, 1992), 392-3.
[4]Pan American Unity Mural, Panel 2, Lower
Right Corner.
[5]Vasconcelos, José. "La
Raza Cósimca: A New Race and a New
Ideal" in Latin America: Conflict and Creation(A Historical Reader),
E. Bradford Burns, editor, (New Jersey:
Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1993), 128.
[6]Ibid, 127.
[7]Williamson, 393.
[8]Ibid.
[9]Orozco, José Clemente. An
Autobiography, (Austin: University
of Texas Press, 1962), 82
[10]Knight, Alan. "Racism, Revolution, and Indegenismo:
Mexico, 1910-1940," in The Idea of
Race in Latin America, 1870-1940, Richard Graham, editor, (Austin:
University of Texas Press, 1997), 82.
[11]Lee, Anthony W. Painting on the Left: Diego
Rivera, Radical Politics, and San Francisco's Public Murals, (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1999), 210.
[12]Marnham, Patrick. Dreaming
With His Eyes Open: A Life of Diego
Rivera, (New York: Alfred A. Knopf,
1998), 300.
[13]Deutscher, Isaac. The
Prophet Outcast: Trotsky, 1929-1940, (New York: Vintage Books, 1963), 431.
[14]Richardson, William. "The Dilemmas of a Communist
Artist: Diego Rivera in Moscow,
1927-28," Mexican Studies, 3:1
(1987), 52.
[15]Ibid., 53.
[16]Herrera, Hayden. Frida: A Biography of Frida Kahlo, (New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1983), 258.
[17]Marques, Gabriel García, cited in Lois
Zamora "Novels and Newspapers in the Americas", Novel 23, 1989,
44-62.
[18]Richardson, 51.
[19]Marnham, 179.
[20]Richardson, 50.
[21]Ibid, 61.
[22]Ibid, 60.
[23]Lee, 205.
[24]Rivera, 85.
[25]Ibid, 86.
[26]Ibid, 131-2.
[27]Ibid, 142.
[28]Deutscher, Marnham.
[29]Marnham, 291.
[30]Lee, 207
[31]Deutscher, 1.
[32]Marnham, 276-7.
[33]Marnham, 278; Deutscher, 371-2.
[34]Deutscher, 359.
[35]Herrera, 209.
[36]Marnham, 285.
[37]Kettenmann, Andrea. Diego
Rivera (1886-1957): A Revolutionary
Spirit in Modern Art, (Cologne:
Taschen, 1997),32.
[38]Marnham, 293.
[39]Deutscher, 445.
[40]Ibid, 292.
[41]Rivera and Siqueiros held a public debate
in 1936 where they denounced each other's political beliefs and shot pistols
off in the air to punctuate their points.
Marnham, 276.
[42]Herrera, 301.
[43]Ibid, 298.
[44]Ibid, 302
[45]Rivera, 151.
[46]Walker, Barbara G. The
Woman's Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets, (San Francisco: Harper & Row
Publishers, 1983), 172.
[47]Deutscher, 380.