‘Ajiaco: Stirrings of the Cuban Soul’

At the Newark  Museum, Now through August 14, 2011

Political oppression and slavery can bend the body, but not the spirit of a people. The current exhibit at the Newark Museum, Ajiaco: Stirrings of the Cuban Soul, is evidence of creativity unbowed, where freedom of expression flourishes and is made manifest in a unique cultural melting pot, isolated by both ideology and geography.

Columbus first noted in his log the island he called, Juana, in 1492. The indigenous community of Cuban aborigines greeted these strangers to their shores, unknowingly putting into play a cycle of death, disease and exploitation that would alter the future of the island and its people for all time. Within a few generations, nearly 98% of the native communities had been eradicated. Ongoing Spanish colonization of the region and the need for captive labor meant the importation of African slaves to work the sugar plantations in the New World. With the abolition of slavery by the English in the 19th century, labor shortages were met by importing thousands of Chinese contract workers, who suffered under equally-harsh conditions. With the numbers of native Amerindians steadily declining to barely traceable levels within the island nation, Cuba was, by the early 20th century, a varied blend of acquired cultural practices, religious beliefs and genetic pools, described in 1939 by Afro-Cuban scholar, Fernando Ortiz, as, ajiaco: a rich stew with a large variety of ingredients, cooked until a thick broth is formed.

But, this confluence of cultural influences, or syncretism, did not come without the memory of what native history and traditions of the island once were. Throughout the last century, and particularly with the resurgance of Cuban nationalistic zeal resulting from the revolution and Castro’s rise to power in 1959, Cubans have become increasingly concerned with exploring and preserving their rich cultural heritage; a renewed national consciousness, in effect. Few countries in the world can claim a more equitable and even-handed inclusion of a handful of indigenous groups, along with the Spanish, African and Oriental populations that have found their way to the island that they now call it home—but always with the understanding that this cultural homogeneity came at a price.

According to Professor James Russell, who wrote the forward for the exhibition catalogue, this essence of a preserved memory is contained in “…a Spanish word, reinvindicación, for which there is no English equivalent, that expresses the idea of reclaiming what was lost because of domination and past injustice—in this case, the injustice that was done to the indigenous people. A constant theme in Cuban identity is thus the reinvindicación of its obliterated indigenous past. ”

The exhibition, Ajiaco: Stirrings of the Cuban Soul is a hearty broth made up of the rich colors and imagery of a tropical landscape, stirred with the poignant symbolism of Catholicism (brought to the island by the Spanish); seasoned with the mystical underpinnings of African tribal rituals arising from the slave trade and the ancient practices of Qi (or spiritual energy tied to nature) linked to the Buddhist and Taoist beliefs of Oriental émigrés. All of this is heated to a creative boiling point by the flames of the Cuban spirit, which, despite the passage of time, is rooted in the rites and beliefs of the Amerindian culture—alive and well, despite centuries of neglect.

Cuban art is nothing, if it is not international. Far from being viewed as ‘Outsider’ art, there is a keen understanding of the organizing principles of Western art throughout the period represented by the works in the show. Beginning with a group of 1943 drawings and a painting by Wilfredo Lam (1902-1982); he himself of mixed island heritage and a close friend of Picasso), his works reveal a unique blend of indigenous symbolism, mixed with universal themes of power, sexuality and identity. With these earliest examples in the exhibit, we are introduced to the concept of, Santería, a Cuban religion based on an amalgam of Spanish Catholicism and West African rites and beliefs. The vocabulary of Lam’s imagery goes beyond traditional monotheism to incorporate the relevance of African deities, Eastern mythological figures, Chinese brush painting and the Western influences of Cubism and Surrealism.

Here, according to show curator, Dr. Gail Gelburd, we are first introduced to the figure of, Eleguá, the African goddess whose role is to clear the clear the path of obstacles, just as Saint Anthony does for Catholics. “We placed works throughout the show containing the figure of Eleguá, so the visitors would be aided in their enjoyment of the experience,” she explains. “The rich symbolism found throughout the exhibition is always an expressive blend of art, politics and spirituality.” Once identified, this horned and whimsically wide-eyed figure could be spotted at every turn, indeed watching out for those in the room. In fact, no work in the show, which covers a period of seven decades, can be understood without referencing the richly-blended heritage of symbolism that occupies a prominent place at the heart of the Cuban artistic community.

The slave populatuon in Cuba was drawn from more than a hundred different tribal regions of West Africa over a two-hundred year period. They maintain their unique cultural identities through a network of social clubs or associations, known as calbidos, after being granted their freedom in 1866. But, they were required to take the name of a Catholic saint, register with a local church and transfer their property to the church. Undaunted, the calbidos quickly established a parallel hierarchy of their Orisha (deities and saints) to match the roles of the saints they were required to adopt. So, under this model of worship for the Yoruba tribe, for example, Jehovah becomes Olodumare; Saint Anthony becomes Eleguá; The Virgin of Charity of El Cobre, patron of Cuba, becomes Oshun; and so forth. These local deities, representing valued traits, attributes and values become prominent symbols in the art of the country.

In a particularly poignant piece illustrating this confluence of symbols , artist, Joel Jover’s work, La Virgen del Cocodrilo, 2000, shows the figure of the virgin embracing a crocodile, understood by virtue of its shape to symbolize the island of Cuba. The creature bears an arrow in its side, much like the martyred, Saint Stephen, as the veiled woman weeps tears of blood for its fate.

Manuel Mendive incorporates African saints into the rich symbolic tapestry of his luminescent painting. In a powerful, jewel-toned work, Se Alimena Mi Espiritu (My Soul is Nourished), 2007, Dr. Gelburd points out that, “It is a portrayal of Oshun, the Orisha of the river, of love and prosperity usually represented with yellow, orange, amber and white. Oshun is known for her healing powers through her cool waters, symbolized here by the surrounding blue-green color that can nourish the soul and restore wholeness. The goat nurtures the red child, for here Oshun is the goddess of maternity. The peacock feathers to the left reveal embracing figures, a symbol of her role in matters of love.” As for Mendive, whose painting appears to be informed by Western forms of Surrealism, he says, “My African heritage is the medium that has allowed me to express my life experiences. It is the theme I have always used. It is the basis for my expression.”

Cuba was plunged into what is known as the ‘Dark Period’ in the 1970’s. Economic dependence on the Soviets had reached its apogee and the ‘oil-for-sugar’ trade relationship placed the Cuban artisitic community squarely in the hands of the Communist censorship apparatus. Artists like Juan Boza (1941-1991) had been raised in the Santería tradition and he saw his work as deeply spiritual. An award-winning artist, he was soon denied the opportunity to teach in Cuba and exhibit internationally and was labeled, as many were by the traditional, Soviet-controlled Education and Culture Congress, as too radical. Considered outcasts, and with availability of essentials in limited supply, artists like Boza relied on found objects, like cardboard, sheet metal and organics, such as dirt and gourds, to continue creating their art. As part of the infamous Mariel boatlift of 1980, Boza immigrated to New York, where he continued to work in the traditional style. His installation piece, Coronación de la Tierra (Crowning of the Earth), 1990, stands as a vibrant offering to the gods of the natural world. This crowning statement in the exhibit affirms the artist’s ingenuity and inscrutable persistence in the power of belief to redeem the faithful. Boza died alone and displaced ten years later, his works kept in storage by a handful of friends, until recently. Ironically, the small figure of Elaguá sits at the base of the assemblage, clearing the way for both the artist and the viewer to, once again, appreciate the redemptive effects of myth in our everyday lives.

According to Dr. Gelburd, “The waning of Soviet influence after the fall of USSR in 1991 resulted in a second period of hardship for the Cuban people, known as, ‘The Special Period’. Without the crux of Russian economic support, everyday life was thrown into disarray. But throughout Castro’s long regime, he had resisted pressure from Moscow to censor creativity and was always very supportive of the arts. Soviet oppression, notwithstanding, Cuba offers some of the finest art training facilities in the world. Many of the artists, whose work is on display in this exhibit, came from this period.”

Carlos Estevez is an example of this new generation of Cuban artists. Merging spirituality with more intellectual influences, Estavez explores the reality within. In a seminal piece, Lugares Desconocidos (Hidden Places), 1997, he plots chakras, or key points of energy in Buddhist teaching, on a strangely disembodied figure. Anatomical objectification merges with spiritual energy to create a neu mann, a figure symbolizing both past and future, but connected to neither. In another work, La Carrera de la Vida (The Race Track of Life), 2002, an ovoid torso represents the frenzied pathway of our hectic lives, while the figure itself sits in quiet meditation, as if searching for the ‘true path’ in a modern world.

Flora Fong was born of a Chinese father and a Cuban mother. Her work, Syncretism (Syncretismo), 2008, reflects the blending of cultural influences that typify the Cuban artistic genre. Her fluid brush strokes have a temporal quality, like those of a Chinese brush painter. The Chinese symbol for, forest, appears before a landscape of palm trees, some caught by a tropical breeze. In another minimalist gesture, the azure Caribbean Sea licks at the bottom of the painting. For multi-cultural artist, Juan Francisco Elso (1956-1988), his many influences included the beliefs of the ancient Amerindian cultures of Central and South America. His perfectly preserved, Pájaro que Vuela Sobre América (Bird that Flies Over America), 1985, is a da Vinci-esque interpretation of a flying machine (complete with arm and leg bands). A fragile construct of sticks, straw mud and honey, the piece is pinned high on the wall like a mammoth butterfly, yet still conveys all the spiritual energy that this ‘messenger of the gods’ and mediator between the human world and the cosmos should symbolize.

Leandro Soto is a Cuban-American who now lives in Arizona. He blends African, Asian, Cuban and Native American influences into his performance pieces. Dr Gelburd points out that, “Soto’s installation piece in the exhibit, KachIreme [including drawings, costuming and a video] is a title that represents the blending of two words and two disparate cultures: the Kachina dress of the Congolese, Abakuá, in the role of Ireme, or shaman, who represents the spirit of another world and attends various ceremonies as mute guide and protector against evil spirits.” Remarkably, these rites share many cross-cultural roots. As the viewer watches Soto interpret such an event, there is a comfortable synchronicity in the ajiaco, or cultural stew, being brewed up in the hills of Arizona (resembling a North African landscape); the African tribal dress, which also informs certain Cuban Santería rituals; the comingling of Amerindian rhythmic drum beats and chants with those of Africa and the artist’s completion of a richly-symbolic, on-site painting, using a long-handled brush, held in the traditional style of Chinese landscape painters. At that moment, Soto symbolizes what is truly universal in the world of art today.

Dr. Gelburd explains that, “symbolism is the universal language of art and, in the case of the Cuban artist community, those symbolic reference may seem strange or different to Western eyes. The cultural melting pot that is Cuba today goes beyond monotheism to find the origins of their soul, or Geist, in the inner spirit of their work.” This effort has spanned many decades and had gone largely unnoticed, until the postmodern world began to acknowledge that the art of the, ‘Other’, or non-Eurocentric art, could be important to those investigating highly accomplished–but little-known artistic communities like Cuba–whose subject matter is charged with multi-cultural symbolism and primordial influences. She also points out that, “As political and cultural doors are being opened between Cuba and the world, we will discover that the syncretic mix of cultures is not only exemplary of Latin America, but can be seen as a paradigm of today’s postmodern world.”

By Richard Friswell, Managing Editor

The exhibition catalogue, by curator, Gail Gelburd, can be purchased through the Newark Museum at: http://www.newarkmuseum.org

Obtain a copy of an informative article by Gail Gelburd entitled, Cuba and the Art of Trading with the Enemy, in the Spring, 2009 issue of, The Art Journal, by writing to, College Art Association, 275 7th Avenue, 18th Floor, New York, NY 10001. 212.691.1051 ext. 204. Cost is $20, plus handling. ahaendel@collegeart.org

For a fascinating article on the history-altering secret negotiations between JFK and Fidel Castro that were cut short by assassination, read: http://www.cigaraficionado.com/Cigar/CA_Archives/CA_Show_Article/0,2322,320,00.html