Cesáreo Moreno -Visual Arts Director and Curator for the National Museum of Mexican Art (Part 1)
Interview with Cesáreo Moreno – Visual Arts Director and Curator for the National Museum of Mexican Art
Interview and transcription by Rachel Clarke, edited for print by Hillary Marzec.
RC: After viewing the exhibition below and seeing art about political corruption and human rights violations, why do you think the art world became a portal for Mexican and Latino artists to express these issues? CM: If you go back to the beginning of the 20th century, you will see a huge Muralist movement in Mexico. That movement, a century later, continues to influence the way Mexicans have learned about art and their history. It’s a way they have transmitted culture from one generation to the next. The Muralist movement was not only huge in Mexico, though: it was an international phenomenon. Really, outside of the Middle Ages, a time when murals or “church art” heavily impacted society, there’s not been such a large-scale movement involving murals.
RC: So you mean as in storytelling and history telling?
Work by Maria Tomasula
CM: You must take into account that the indigenous people who fought the Mexican Revolution–the everyday, common folks, like farmers–were illiterate. When the revolution ended in 1920, the Minister of Education had the great idea to create jobs for artists and, simultaneously, educate the masses through art and beautify public spaces. It was art, rather than text, being used for propaganda. Let’s face it: that’s what it was–propaganda–and it was so incredibly successful that it actually influenced the US Modern Art movement. Incidentally, if I could make a quick plug, our February 12th show is going to be exactly about this topic, and it’s called Translating Revolution. It will look at the impact of the Mexican Muralists and the Mexican school of art on the United States and its art. We will have Jackson Pollock pieces, as well as pieces from the WPA movement, the Harlem Renaissance, and others. Back in the early 20th century, Mexico truly was a destination: people would come from the US, Canada, and Europe, flocking to Mexico to take note of (and notes from) this new, successful movement. And again, it really was about propaganda–but then again, what good art isn’t? Good art sells an idea or a concept, even just for a moment, and provokes thought. If it can change your outlook or mind about something, even just for a moment, it is good art.
RC: Well, when people hear the word “propaganda,” they think Communism.
CM: That’s true: it certainly does have negative connotations associated with the Soviet Union, etc., but at the end of the day, good art is really good propaganda. Basically, even today, we are still experiencing the success of the Muralist Movement. Naturally, generations since have rejected it, but you know that like all good art, it is reactionary. 
Even in the United States, with the political movement of the Chicanos in the 60s, the Civil Rights Movement of Mexican Americans and Chicanos, the way that Muralism was embraced as a public art form for social protest, as well as for celebration and pride, was incredible. It still is today. This in part answers your original question about the use of art in a political sphere. And the exhibit Rastros Y Cronicas focuses on the atrocities happening in the border towns. It’s very social, it’s very political, it’s very global–economically speaking—and there are many themes covered. In the past, we’ve definitely used exhibitions and artwork by artists to sort of highlight the things we feel are socially unjust: we feel that, as we are a platform for our community–being an institution within the community—we have a mission not only to celebrate the beautiful things that we have, the pride in our history and culture, but also at times to point out those deficits, those problems that need to be addressed.
RC: Before I go any further, our publication has an internal question we wanted to ask you. Can you clarify the differences among the terms Mexican, Latino, and Chicano? Is there any particular term generally favored by Chicago’s Mexican community?
CM: You’re opening up a Pandora’s Box there. The choice of term is very regional, very local, and very private. There are some sweeping generalizations that I could share with you–but keep in mind that they are generalizations. The terms which we use to refer to ourselves, terms that we give or assign ourselves once we have left our motherland, are very strongly influenced by the political and the social structure in the new country (in this case, the U.S.). The terms that developed in the United States are very specific to the role we have here, the way stereotypes have been given, and the way we try to–like any and all people–identify ourselves. So for instance, the terms we had early on, whether or not they were accepted, reveal a lot about prevailing attitudes of the time, both outside and inside the Mexican community. The term “Bochco,” for example, is a very derogatory slang term for someone of Mexican descent born in the United States: this word, though, has its roots in Mexico, where it was used to refer to those Mexicans who now live in the United States and don’t speak Spanish well, who don’t know their culture, and who really don’t know their history. They “look” Mexican on the outside, but are somehow “less than” Mexican on the inside. They were seen as deserters, people who had left their motherland for another land. We must recognize too, though, that it must be a difficult thing to be the people who remain in the motherland: they watch their neighbors leaving Mexico for a new life, unable to handle the rough conditions and lack of opportunity in Mexico, and then they see these expatriates making enough money in the U.S. to even send money back “home.”
Political art poster
These people are economically successful, relatively speaking: they are an economic success story. I think that many people in Mexico have found this difficult to stomach because it serves as a painful reminder of the failure of the system back home. Terms like “Bochco,” then, were ways of venting that frustration. “Chicano” was a term that came out of the Civil Rights Movement of the 60s. It embodies the frustrations and the struggles of the Mexican-American community at that time period. These were people who were sick and tired of sitting back and accepting their situation, and so “Chicano” is a term of self-empowerment. In the 21st century, however, the word “Chicano” has completely changed in usage.
In Chicago, for example, it seems that very few people consider themselves “Chicano.” This term seems to have a southwestern, California-focused usage, which makes sense: in that area of the U.S., people’s connection with their roots seems to be so much stronger, and the history is long; in comparison, Chicago is very “young.” Mexicans didn’t really start arriving en masse in the Midwest until the 19th century, and so in comparison with the southwest, Chicago’s Mexican community is like a young, immigrant group. I think that because of this difference, Midwestern Mexicans have a much stronger, present, and real connection with the Motherland. They can still go “home” for Christmas, to put it another way. They have extended family there. There is a very active dialogic relationship between their community in the U.S. and their community in Mexico, and this dialogue–this back-and-forth between countries and communities–ensures a wonderful sharing between the cultures.
I was born in Chicago, and yet I still have a very real connection with Mexico: it is different from the hybrid identity formed in Mexican communities in the southwest, where their identity is truly engrained in that part of the U.S. I think that is why we don’t have many Chicanos here in Chicago. So now, let’s consider the bigger, more contemporary issue regarding the terms “Mexican,” “Latino,” and “Hispanic.” Basically, in the U.S., you’ve got people who speak the same language (in a range of dialects, naturally), and so the rest of our English-speaking society lumps them into one category based on that common language. This is “Hispanic,” and it is a term that has caused reactions from Mexicans and Latinos in Chicago. And rightly so! I like to offer the analogy of using the term “Englander” for all English-speaking people. Imagine talking with someone in Jamaica and saying, “You must be an Englander.” They would naturally react to such a moniker. And I’m sure we in the U.S. would as well, were we to be called “Englanders” based solely on the fact that we speak English.
Many politically-minded individuals in the United States prefer the term “Latino” to “Hispanic” for this reason: it denotes one’s place of origin—Latin America—including its language, its culture, its history, etc., rather than simply reducing identity to one’s language. I think people living in the U.S. who are from Mexico prefer “Mexican,” and younger people born in the U.S. seem to prefer “Mexican-American.” That has been my experience, but I’ll add a personal note: if a non-Latino asks me, “So what are you?” I’ll probably respond that I am Latino. If a Latino or someone who I feel might have a better understanding of our situation here in the U.S. asks me the same thing, I would simply say “Mexican.” I often tell people that I am a Chicago-born Mexican: culturally, I am definitely a Mexican, but I was born in Chicago. The paradox is that when I am in Chicago, I identify myself as Mexican; when I got to Mexico, though, I identify myself as being a Chicagoan. It has always been so odd that I am not what I am in the place that I am. It’s like I am always the opposite. I think that in a strange way, this best explains my understanding of all these terms.
RC: How do you work with a Mexican or Latino artist who does not want to deal or work with Mexican identity in his or her artwork?
CM: Yes, this happens quite a bit. I have been at the museum 17 years now, and I have seen it coming and going and changing and growing. That has been something that has been a part of this institution since Day One. Now, in the 21st century, the world is growing so beautifully complex: the sharing of information and ideas is picking up speed and flowing, and people just seem to finally understand that we’re not that simple anymore. By “we,” I mean human beings, nationalities, ethnicities, and cultures. It’s much easier and more acceptable nowadays, for instance, for someone to call herself a “lesbian” or “vegan,” referring to whatever issue is strong in forming her identity.
I think we understand now that identity is so multi-layered that oftentimes, being Mexicano does not even factor in as one of the top ten identity-makers, and that is alright. However, this is the National Museum of Mexican Art, so when I curate an exhibition, what I am really trying to do is tell a story that informs, educates, and sheds light on a particular culture-specific topic. Even though fine art is our vehicle, ultimately we have a mission that has a lot to do with history. It is my job to weave the threads into a cohesive visual narrative using works of art that exemplify the thesis. (I think that would be a great thesis to do one day—”Non-Mexican Art by Mexicans” or “Mexican Art by….” I think that this concept would really speak to the issue of identity.) The danger, of course, that we often run into when showing contemporary art is that we might unwittingly perpetuate stereotypical ideas, or ideas that are no longer as valid as they were ten or twenty-five years ago. I always have this concern.
End of interview with Cesareo Moreno Part 1 (of 2). Part 2 (of 2) will be posted next week.
