12
Centro Journal ISSN: 1538-6279 [email protected] The City University of New York Estados Unidos Hernández, Yasmín Painting liberation: 1998 and its pivotal role in the formation of a new Boricua political art movement Centro Journal, vol. XVII, núm. 2, fall, 2005, pp. 112-133 The City University of New York New York, Estados Unidos Available in: http://www.redalyc.org/articulo.oa?id=37717207 How to cite Complete issue More information about this article Journal's homepage in redalyc.org Scientific Information System Network of Scientific Journals from Latin America, the Caribbean, Spain and Portugal Non-profit academic project, developed under the open access initiative

Redalyc.Painting liberation: 1998 and its pivotal role … · Painting liberation: 1998 and its pivotal role in the ... Y ASMÍN H ERNÁNDEZ In the 1990 s, identity-driven art was

Embed Size (px)

Citation preview

Centro Journal

ISSN: 1538-6279

[email protected]

The City University of New York

Estados Unidos

Hernández, Yasmín

Painting liberation: 1998 and its pivotal role in the formation of a new Boricua political art movement

Centro Journal, vol. XVII, núm. 2, fall, 2005, pp. 112-133

The City University of New York

New York, Estados Unidos

Available in: http://www.redalyc.org/articulo.oa?id=37717207

How to cite

Complete issue

More information about this article

Journal's homepage in redalyc.org

Scientific Information System

Network of Scientific Journals from Latin America, the Caribbean, Spain and Portugal

Non-profit academic project, developed under the open access initiative

CENTRO Journal

7Volume xv1i Number 2

fall 2005

[ 113 ]

Painting liberation: 1998 and its pivotal role in the formation of a new Boricua political art movementYASMÍN HERNÁNDEZ

In the 1990’s, identity-driven art was celebrated as multiculturalismand political correctness became the new trends. During this period,identity was weighing most heavily on the minds of Puerto Ricans asthe year 1998 marked a full century of U.S. political domination overPuerto Rico. Consequently, a group of artists went well beyond theidentity question by developing a new form of liberation art toexplicitly denounce colonialism. This essay focuses on the youngartists, working in New York and Philadelphia primarily, who workedboth individually and within creative collectives to cultivate radicalapproaches to a new Boricua political art movement. It discusses thedevelopment of such visual art and multidisciplinary initiatives andhow they have gained significant momentum since 1998 to assertthemselves unapologetically in the new millennium as they continueto work towards an independent Puerto Rico. [Key words: Art,nationalism, graffiti, murals, Puerto Rican, Boricua]

ABSTRACT

El pesar y orgullo de la revolucionaria (2004)Yasmín HernándezMixed media on canvas, 48" x 24"Reprinted, by permission, from Yasmín Hernández.

Hernández(v1).qxd 12/10/05 3:38 PM Page 112

assert themselves unapologetically in thenew millennium. Although I will mostlyhighlight the work of visual artists, the mentioning of those working in other disciplines is inevitable. Looking atprevious generations, we find variousexamples of pioneering visual artists likeLorenzo Homar and Rafael Tufiño, whohave taken interdisciplinary approachesto address the survival and future ofPuerto Rican culture. By creating andactively participating in projects such asCAP (Centro de Arte Puertorriqueño)and DIVEDCO (División de Educaciónde la Comunidad) literature, lyrics, andmusic were combined with the visual artsto reaffirm our identity as Puerto Ricansin the wake of the new Free AssociatedState status that perpetuated a political,and therefore cultural, tie to the UnitedStates. We see samples of such projects in the Homar/Tufiño collaboration on thePlenas series, a portfolio of prints thatillustrated the stories told in popularplenas and juxtaposed these with theirrespective song lyrics. Another sample is found in Tufiño’s illustrations of thepoetry of Luis Palés Matos (who was bornin 1898). As with previous generations,visual art, poetry, and music continue tobe inseparable.

Images of invasion

For over five hundred years wehave had no control over ouridentity, over our destinyA colony to imperialistcountries which causeddestruction everywhere for the love of money and inthe monopolizing of resourcesanywhereTherefore our independencecan in no way be tied tocitizenship

Fuck a free associationrelationship!Why would we want ourchildren to be a part of such abarbaric nation?In 1898 the u.s. condemnedour fateAnd we’ve become keepers tohell’s gateprotector to the ill will americacreates

[ 115 ]

The above quote and lyrics serve as theopening to the album Liberation Day bythe New York-based, Puerto Rican Punkband Ricanstruction. On July 25th, 1998,the songs of that album set the tone forthe pro-independence rally at the UnitedNations in New York during a liveperformance where I first heard theirmusic. The prior evening, Philadelphiacelebrated the opening of TallerPuertorriqueño’s Ame-Rican Bordersexhibition, for which I created aninstallation entitled Independence Day.That event was held in conjunction withthe Parranda de Libertad, which the teenparticipants of Taller’s Youth ArtistProgram had marched through thestreets of North Philadelphia.“Liberation,” “Libertad,” and“Independence” were the shouts ofBoricua youth confronting the brutalrealities of their identity in the wake ofthe centennial of the U.S. invasion ofPuerto Rico.

As Elizam Escobar proclaimed with hisflag cake sculpture in the Ame-RicanBorders exhibit: “You can’t have yourcake and eat it too!” In the tradition ofliberation art, our creativity became avehicle with which to individually andcollectively denounce our state ofpolitical limbo. With the birthdaycandles forming the number 51 (as in 51st

State of the Union), Elizam’s sculpturewas a statement against colonialism. But instead of promoting statehood, it prompted viewers to considerindependence as the true liberation from the political limbo and economicdependency that characterize the “Free Associated State.” The work carrieda political charge unlike any other, sinceElizam created his piece behind U.S.federal prison walls, while serving asentence for seditious conspiracy—the result of being a freedom fighter for Puerto Rico. His presence in theexhibition served as both inspiration anda warning of what could be the fate ofone who openly supports the liberationof Puerto Rico. Yet there are those whocontinue to take such risks.

This essay focuses on the young artistsworking in New York and Philadelphiaprimarily, whose art explicitly advocatesfor independence. I do not write as anobserver, but as a participant whodeveloped as a political artist within amovement of young, creative PuertoRicans who, in light of 1998, bombardedthe system with images that affirmed ournationhood. This paper will present someof the artists and creative initiatives thatdeveloped during this time and willdiscuss how these have gained significantmomentum since the events of 1998 to

[ 114 ]

¡Hasta tanto Puerto Rico no sea libre, soberana eindependiente—ni con fiel autoridad alguien—nadie tieneningún autoridad en Puerto Rico. Ni jueces, ni fíncales, ni

policía, ni gobernadores, ni ningún charlatán en Puerto Rico!PEDRO ALBIZU CAMPOS

Pedro’s got a pipe bombSet for the Fourth of July

A detonator slow fuseLoisaida high

FROM “PEDRO’S GRAVE” BY RICANSTRUCTION, LIBERATION DAY (1998, CBGB RECORDS)

1898 — 1998 (07/24/98). Ricanstruction graffiti. Park Avenue, East Harlem.

Hernández(v1).qxd 12/10/05 3:38 PM Page 114

On the front line of World War IIIA rook to america’s militarystrategy

—RAY RAMIREZ OF THE WELFARE POETS,

“THROUGH THE SHADOWS OF DEATH",

PROJECT BLUES ALBUM, 1999, BLUE

REALITY RECORDS

Poetry, music, and art set the stage forthe cultural reawakening I would experienceas an undergraduate at Cornell Universityin Ithaca, New York. Like many studentswho find themselves away from home, I experienced living away from my PuertoRican community of East New York,Brooklyn, as a kind of exile. Not only was Iexiled in Ithaca; my whole existence in thiscountry was one of exile. Like NuyoricanPoet Tato Laviera, as "hijos de unamigración, pecado forzado,” other Boricuaswere too expressing the pain and rage ofcolonialism and displacement in their work.

The tense, competitive climate ofCornell’s campus served as a breedingground for radical thought and

provocative art. My first semester of artin 1993 coincided with the Revelaciones:Hispanic Art of Evanescence exhibit at theJohnson Museum on campus. The site-specific installations created by Latinoand Latin American artists quicklybecame a platform on which raciststudents scribbled ethnic slurs andoffensive slogans. These events served asthe catalyst for a three-day occupation ofDay Hall (the administrative building oncampus) led by Latino and African-American students. It was in this sameclimate that Hector Rivera and RayRamirez began the spoken wordperformances that would grow to becomeThe Welfare Poets. It was there thatJames De La Vega began his explorationsof Taíno and West African symbols thatwould precede his Young Lords, AlbizuCampos, and religious murals in hisneighborhood of East Harlem. It was alsothen and there that I made my decision to begin mobilizing around the centennialof the U.S. invasion of Puerto Rico.

As part of my pre-thesis semesterresearch, I compared political cartoonsof the American Revolution with those

created during the 1898 Spanish-American War. Images of a vulnerable,violated America morphed intodepictions of an imperial Uncle Samnursing his new colonies or “babies,” as the caricatures suggest. In littlemore than a century, the U.S. hadseverely altered its views, abandoningits revolutionary colonialist identity topursue the role of imperialist. As aBrooklyn-born and -raised Boricua, I was too familiar with a romanticizedversion of American history, decoratedwith lavish accounts of the“courageous” Paul Revere and of the“fearless” Rough Riders. My ownPuerto Rican history was largelyobscured, hidden in library stacks.Waiting for me to leave my fingerprintsin the dust of their jackets were racistreports by the U.S. Committee ofInsular Possessions that supported the subjugation of Puerto Rico and its people. Buried were accounts ofclandestine acts that secretly madetheir way into select libraries with theexpectations that only a privileged fewwould come across them. Thus,

resenting the “heroic” imagescelebrated in my public schooltextbooks was inevitable—especiallybooks that relegated the African-American and American Indiancontributions to a two-page spread.

In response to the hypocrisiespresented in American politicalcartoons, the work of my own BFAthesis reconfigured history byknocking American icons off theirpedestals and violating their sacredspaces with the heroes of Puerto Rico’s untold history. I replaced thecomposition entitled The BloodyMassacre by Paul Revere with thesomber image of the Ponce Massacre of 1937 (1997). The stately profile ofAbraham Lincoln on the face of apenny was violated with the proudimage of Don Pedro Albizu Campos. In this Puerto Rican flag made ofpennies I included the slogan,“Proclaim Your Emancipation,” linking the Puerto Rican and African-American struggles-two nations withina nation. A century under U.S. rulerequired that I make a concerted effort

[ 117 ][ 116 ]

Grenades are Not Free (1999). Vagabond. East Harlem Mural. Proclaim Your Emancipations (1997).Yasmín Hernández. Mixed media on canvas 42" x 48".Reprinted, by permission, from Yasmín Hernández.

Hernández(v1).qxd 12/10/05 3:38 PM Page 116

little humor to be found in this piece. It instead refers to the hundreds, if notthousands, of children who werepersecuted in both Island and statesideschools for speaking their language. It speaks of the English court hearingsheld by American judges in Puerto Ricowho, in a foreign language, sentenced theIsland’s Nationalists to decades in U.S.federal prisons. Miguel’s work examinesthe complexities in the political, cultural,and economic influence that the UnitedStates has had on Puerto Rico since theoccupation of 1898.

Reclaiming Boricua history: El Barrio/ East Harlem The year 1898 became a rallying themefor young Boricua artists who disagreedwith the political relationship betweenthe United States and Puerto Rico. In ElBarrio/East Harlem, “1898” was beingspray-painted on walls. In addition, it wasbeing used as a signature on a series ofmurals that were part of a grassrootsvisual campaign to bring to light thecolonial condition of Puerto Rico. “1898”was a graffiti tag for Puerto Rican andJamaican artist Vagabond. With thissignature, Vagabond attributed the ills of the status quo to the U.S. invasion ofPuerto Rico and its presence since that

date. In juxtaposing the year 1898 withthe image of a Puerto Rican politicalprisoner, the artist transformed the muralinto a call to action—a need to undo thetransition of power secured by thatmilitary occupation. The work ofVagabond and his cohorts also includedthe spray painting of slogans like“Libertad,” “1898–1998,” “Revolución,” and “Free Puerto Rico” on walls,mailboxes, light poles, and any othersurfaces El Barrio had to offer. These same artists/activists were alsopart of Ricanstruction who released theLiberation Day CD in 1998. A network of musicians, activists, poets, writers,painters, graphic artists, graffiti artists,filmmakers, and producers,Ricanstruction embodies theinterdisciplinary nature of the politicalBoricua art movement.

In 1997, Vagabond and other membersof Ricanstruction joined forces with ayouth organization known as the PuertoRico Collective (PRC). The primaryfocus of the group was to mobilize thecommunity, particularly young folks,around the decolonization of PuertoRico. For Vagabond and otherRicanstruction members, collaboratingwith more young activists through thePRC facilitated the mural initiative.

[ 119 ][ 118 ]

to undo the effects of institutionalizedAmericanization campaigns by using myart as a vehicle for Puerto Ricanization.Failure to do so would contribute to myown extinction.

This sentiment is shared by manyBoricuas, both in the states and in PuertoRico, who were subjected to historylessons that glorified all things Americanwhile painting ours as an inferior culture.As artists who recognized this dilemma,resolution was found in our ability towork collectively to undo this cycle. I first discovered this while at Cornell,upon learning that Brooklyn-basedPuerto Rican artist Juan Sánchez wouldbe serving as a visiting lecturer. As anundergrad within an academicenvironment that proved hostile to mynationalist imagery, I insisted on sittingin with the graduate students.

Sánchez’s first slide presentationincorporated images of Puerto RicanNationalists Lolita Lebrón and AlbizuCampos. Here was an established visualartist and professor who for a generationbefore had already been reconfiguringAmerican icons in his work. The Americanbald eagle appeared inverted in several of his paintings and prints. Exposure toJuan’s work served as for more than anacademic experience for me. It gave melicense to develop and continue on a paththat I had already begun.

Like many before us, another youngartist, Miguel Luciano, also found himselfturning to American icons and politicalcartoons in an effort to reconfigurehistory as we know it.

I collected a lot of politicalcartoons from 1898 andincorporated some of theimages into paintings andother works in order tocompare these colonialarchetypes with contemporaryimages that reinforced racist

stereotypes, underlining theways in which much remainedunchanged. I was interested inrevealing to both Puerto Ricanand U.S. audiences that inboth subtle and overt ways,we continue to reinforce racistideals and aggressive culturalimperialist attitudes andpolicies. In bringing theseimages to the surface,deconstructing them whilerearranging andrecontextualizing them, myinterest was in creatingstrategies of resistance thattook on these images for whatthey were, in a sense,reclaiming them and thensending them back assomething different...andshifting the colonial gaze backonto the viewer (Personal

communication with Miguel Luciano).

In the painting, ¿Cómo se dice boricuaen inglés? (1998), Luciano features animage of Uncle Sam that is very differentfrom the typical victorious images of thisAmerican icon. Here Uncle Sam is thevictim, under attack by a vejigante.Wearing the traditional coconut huskmask of Loíza, the vejigante carries in his hand the very machete used by theenslaved cane cutters whose West Africancultures gave birth to the vejigantetradition. Only in Luciano’s work, themachete is not just a tool; it is a weaponthreatening to slice the tongue out ofUncle Sam’s mouth. Its brightly coloredcaricature depictions are 19th-centuryAmerican political cartoon meets 20th-century animation, except there is very

¿Cómo se dice boricua en inglés? (1998). Miguel Luciano. Acrylic on wood, 48" x 84". Reprinted, by permission, from MiguelLuciano.

Hernández(v1).qxd 12/10/05 3:38 PM Page 118

renounce colonialism. My workincorporated the same documents of myresearch that revealed the hypocrisiesand discrepancies in American history-juxtaposing images of nationhood withthe very words that inspired them. This melding of my political ideologieswith my visual language demanded that,upon graduating, I needed to immersemyself in my culture and art,contemplating strategies of resistingcolonialism and spreading awarenessabout the impending centennial. This path led me to Taller Puertorriqueñoin El Barrio/ North Philadelphia.

Stepping into the lobby of itseducation building for the first time in1997, I was greeted by Dennis MarioRivera’s life-sized wood-cut print, DonPedro y los pitirres (1982), anexperience confirming that I hadarrived at the right place. With myrelocation to Philadelphia, I served asdirector of the Youth Artist Program(YAP) at Taller Puertorriqueño andquickly became part of an intimate,thriving Latino artist community. YAPwas a recreation of the original elementthat conceived what was to become TallerPuertorriqueño, Inc. Cinco Graphicswas a print workshop that trained newyoung artists in the community, muchlike the CAP in Puerto Rico and Taller

Boricua in New York City. CincoGraphics, named for 5th Street, thecentral Latino commerce hub of ElBarrio, expanded into a two-buildingcultural arts center. Today TallerPuertorriqueño, Inc., includes anarchive on Puerto Ricans in theDelaware Valley, a bilingualbookstore/ artesanía shop, an art gallery, an education centeroffering summer and after-schoolcultural arts programming forchildren and youth as well as publicprograms for the greater community.

During my time with the YouthArtist Program I made sure to expandit beyond its two-year art portfolio-building focus to include an activisttraining component focusing onHIV/AIDS, homophobia, culturalidentity, educational equality, racism, and colonialism. My goal was not only to build technical proficiency in theaspiring teen artists, but also to introducethem to the empowering element of artand its capacity for community buildingand organizing. Whereas I served as amentor to the youth, leaders in thePhiladelphia cultural arts communitysuch as Johnny Irizarry (who served asTaller’s Director for 12 years) provided me with a strong foundation to grow asan artist and activist.

[ 121 ]

Having more bodies provided thenecessary support for creating murals“illegally,” or rather, without permissionfrom the owners of the walls. Whenselecting walls, they sought ones whichwere unkempt and in poor condition—oftentimes the property of absenteelandlords who did not represent ElBarrio’s community. The purpose of themurals was to bring a positive message to the people while helping to beautifythe streets of El Barrio. This effort,according to the mural artists, did notrequire “permission.” Moreover, askingpermission of an owner of privateproperty went against Ricanstruction’sanarchistic views.

Ricanstruction and PRC memberswould meet to clean up garbage from EastHarlem lots and prime walls in preparationfor new murals. As the artists painted awall, Ricanstruction musicians would playcongas to gather a crowd. This assembly ofyoung activists was also an opportunity toshare information with communitymembers, which they did via flyer andpamphlet distribution. Vagabond explainsthat such gatherings would serve to keepthe police away. An event involving flyerdistribution, music, dancing, and theinstallation of a mural seemed tooorganized for the police to assume that itwas spontaneous or, even worse, “illegal.”However, in one particular instance, cops did become suspicious and began tocirculate the area where the youngactivists were working. Seeing a potentialpolice intervention, the crowd that hadgathered began yelling at the police to goaway. For Vagabond, this represented aturning point as these activities graduatedfrom being youth-organized to a situationin which community members officiallyrecognized the young artists asrepresenting their cultural heritage andpride and therefore sought to protectthem. Reflecting on this event, Vagabondstates, “That’s when I knew I hadsucceeded. The idea we had come up with

of painting for the community, engagingpeople, putting kids to paint, it worked!”(Personal communication with Vagabond).

These murals continue to provokecritical thought in the community. One in particular, on 105th street off of 3rd Avenue, features the Puerto Rican andCuban flags merged, alongside portraits ofErnesto “Che” Guevara and Pedro AlbizuCampos. The two monochromatic portraitsare reminiscent of the graphic images ofcommunist silkscreen posters and arejuxtaposed with quotes by Che and Albizu.The mural also features the famous quote ofPuerto Rican revolutionary poet LolaRodríguez de Tío: “Cuba y Puerto Rico sonde un pájaro, las dos alas.” In the same spiritdemonstrated by Puerto Rican members ofthe Cuban Revolutionary Party in NewYork, who a century earlier had designed thePuerto Rican flag to express nationhood andsolidarity between the two colonies, theseyoung artists in El Barrio were summoningthat solidarity to demand freedom yet again.Only this time the imperialist was not Spain,it was the United States.

As for the portrayal of these threerevolutionaries who supported theindependence of Puerto Rico, fellowPRC member and mural collaborator,Carlos “Tato” Torres explains, “Patrioticand Nationalist imagery have been a partof my artistic expression from an earlyage.…Some of my earliest memoriesinclude watching my uncle paint a muralof Betances over a Lares flag and one ofDon Pedro yelling.... Those two imagesand their powerful symbolism wereimprinted into everything I ever did,including my art” (Personalcommunication with Carlos Torres).

El Barrio/ North PhiladelphiaAs with Carlos Torres, symbols ofPuerto Rican nationalism dominated myart. My BFA thesis became a forum forme to diligently formulate my own visuallanguage and combine it with a politicalcontent that would unapologetically

[ 120 ]

Che and Albizu mural. Vagabond, Tato Torres. 105th Street, East Harlem.

Hernández(v1).qxd 12/10/05 3:38 PM Page 120

displayed behind a velvet rope like theones I had seen at the Old Citymuseums. This velvet rope barricadeprovided a sense of legitimacy in thepresentation of an historical event inPuerto Rico’s struggle forindependence, similar to the way velvetropes and alarms protect the preciousdocuments and artworks immortalizingthe revolutions of 1776. Another pieceincluded in this installation, You WantWho?, featured an inverted portrait ofUncle Sam from the famous “We WantYou” war posters. This image served todenounce the stipulations of the 1917Jones Bill, which made Puerto RicansU.S. citizens. Consequently, You WantWho? was a statement against the draftof Puerto Ricans into World War I, and every U.S. war thereafter, despitethe Islanders’ continued inability toparticipate in presidential elections.

Surrounding the painting were imagesof American political cartoons that putthe Uncle Sam image into a greatervisual context as the poster child forimperialism. Again, as in the work of myBFA thesis, I subverted the traditionalpresentation of American icons to allowa platform on which to present a PuertoRican history that is largely obscure.

Also subverting the images ofAmerican icons around this time wasTania M. Frontera, who divides her timebetween New York City and PuertoRico. The artist states, “I always lookinto history—more specifically ourhistory as Puerto Ricans and a colonizednation—to react and create some work.During 1998, I was working on myinterpretation of the Justice Lady [or] La dama de la justicia puertorriqueña asI viewed [her]” (Personalcommunication with Tania M. Frontera).In one of her digital images of La damade la justicia puertorriqueña, a woman isseen wearing a gas mask, with thePuerto Rican flag as her gown. Perhapsthe gas mask refers to the pollution

from the industrial plants erectedthroughout the Island, or it might be a reference tomilitarization, since both transformedPuerto Rico after the U.S occupation. In her right hand, the justice scalesbalance plátanos with U.S. currency. The plátanos tip the scale as if todemand that we remain loyal to our owntraditions and culture and have resistedthe trappings of American capitalism.The machete in her left hand and thepava and plátanos at her feet representthe symbol of national pride, el jíbaro,but also speak to the former, thrivingagricultural economy, which wasreplaced by an industrial one that servedthe needs of American businessmen. As icons, our crops and our jíbarobecame romanticized, as they only existin the past, obscured by Americanization.Again with this tradition of recreatingAmerican icons, the colonized takes onthe language of the colonizer, subvertingit for their own liberation purposes.

Rallying for liberation

When Pedro diedThe sanctified Lolita and Boricua pride As Lares screamedUtuado dreamed And presidents and preachersschemed Of land and libertyAnd country tis of thee The selfish satisfiedA nation would rise—

RICANSTRUCTION, EXCERPT “PEDRO’S

GRAVE”, LIBERATION DAY CD, 1998, CBGB

RECORDS

[ 123 ]

Pedro’s got a pipe bomb set for theFourth of July

Ayer cuando yo dormí en lamadrugadaEn un sueño que yo tuvepude verQue mi islita era libre ysoberana y la fuerzaAmericana se alejo deBorinquenQue mi islita era libre ysoberana y la fuerzaAmericana se alejo deBorinquen

—EXCERPT, “EL SUEÑO”, BOMBA LYRICS

BY VICTOR VELEZ

Much of the creative inspiration I received in the summer of 1998 came from living within blocks ofIndependence Hall and the LibertyBell. As the 4th of July approached,Philadelphia became a celebratoryshrine to United States’ Independence.Out of curiosity, I began to participatein tourist activities, visiting historicalmuseums to observe how a sovereign

country pays homage to the revolutionthat resulted in its founding.Overwhelmingly, I felt the weight of not being able to celebrate anindependence day for Puerto Rico. This all began to feed the conceptbehind my installation for Taller’sexhibit that summer, Ame-RicanBorders: Artists Ponder the 100 YearsSince the U.S. Invasion of Puerto Rico.

For the exhibition, I chose torecreate a gallery scene from one ofthose typical Old City Society HillColonial District museums in aninstallation that would be dedicated to the future liberation of Puerto Rico,and thus titled the work IndependenceDay (1998). The title piece, inspired by 19th-century history paintings,depicted the scene of the arrest afterthe 1954 Nationalist attack on theHouse of Representatives led by LolitaLebrón. The capitol building wasglazed in the stripes and the sole starof the Puerto Rican flag with theinverted texts of the U.S. Constitutionand the U.S. Declaration ofIndependence collaged in thebackground and foreground,respectively. The painting waspresented under buntings bearing thecolors of the Puerto Rican flag and was

[ 122 ]

Parranda de Libertad (07/24/98), Youth Artist Program,Taller Puertorriqueño, North Philadelphia. Reprinted, by permission, from Youth Artist Program.

Hernández(v1).qxd 12/10/05 3:38 PM Page 122

were deeply moved by Ana María García’sdocumentary, La operación, on the massivesterilization campaigns launched onPuerto Rican women. Some of the teensdressed as vejigantes since the commem-oration date also coincided with theFestival de Santiago Apóstol in Loíza.Other youth participants walked on stiltswhile the remaining students painted Taínosymbols and Puerto Rican and Lares flagson the faces of younger children from thecommunity. The parade advanced on itscourse through the residential streetssurrounding Taller Puertorriqueño andended in the community garden next doorto Taller’s Bookstore and Gallery building,where the crowd gathered for more music,testimonials, poetry, and a performance byNew York’s The Welfare Poets. Meanwhile,the opening reception for the AmeRicanBorders exhibit was taking place upstairs,featuring over a dozen local artists as wellas works from the permanent collectionthat dealt with the status issue.

As in many openings, not all artists werepresent, but one artist’s absence resonatedgreatly within the space. Two guest bookssat on a pedestal in the gallery, one for thevisitors to write their comments on the

work, and the other was a personalcomment book that would be sent toFreedom Fighter Elizam Escobar at theOklahoma Federal Prison, where he wasserving a sedition sentence. That book and an appearance by his son Eli weretestament to his profoundly felt absence at the reception.

The next morning several of the YAPstudents boarded buses to Washington DCwith Comité Nacional to demand therelease of the political prisoners. I followedVagabond’s poster and boarded a train toNew York City to “Free Puerto Rico.” It was the morning of July 25th, 1998.

La lucha continua

All I have to do to keepworking is assume that PuertoRico will not be free in mylifetime. That way I won’t belet down if it’s not free in fiveor ten years as I had hopedand won’t be discouraged fromcontinuing the work then.—VAGABOND

[ 125 ]

The resounding impact of the image insociopolitical movements continues toencourage artists to use their talent toevoke radical thought and action. As withmy own research of U.S. war posters, inNew York City Vagabond (the artist whoused “1898” as a tag) had been studyingthe same images along with Communistand Socialist propaganda posters. This research was part of the process todesign a poster that would draw attentionto the pro-independence centennialcommemoration rally being organized at the United Nations by the ComitéPuerto Rico ‘98. Its design and contenthad to be explicit in order to emphasizethe political intent of this demonstration.The caption was taken directly from theslogans Vagabond and fellowRicanstruction members had tagged inthe streets of East Harlem: “Free PuertoRico!” With this slogan anyone whoagreed to attend the rally after viewingthe poster knew that they weresupporting a pro-independence event. In addition, as in the mission of thePuerto Rico Collective, there was aparticular interest in formulating a newgeneration of freedom fighters, and sothe poster had to successfully attractyouth to this rally. The image consisted of a large Boricua flag onto which theartist had superimposed the silhouettesof young people standing as a unitedfront. Beneath the image is anotherslogan that reads, “The time has come tomake a stand!” The Comité raised fundsto print thousands of these images onpostcards and posters, which had a widecirculation and even reached my office inPhiladelphia, where I had it on displaylong before ever having met Vagabond. In the lower left-hand corner, Vagabondsigned the image with his graffiti alias,“1898,” adding the final touch to a posterpromoting a protest on the centennial.

With the centennial date approaching,news came of rallies also under way inGuánica, (the site where the American

troops and their general, Nelson Miles,landed in 1898) and in Washington D.C. forthe freedom of the Puerto Rican PoliticalPrisoners. In addition, the Pedro AlbizuCampos Museum in Chicago hadorganized Images of Invasion, a travelingexhibition featuring a collection of flags by Ramón López, Juan Sánchez, and thenpolitical prisoner Elizam Escobar thatanalyzed our history and politicalrelationship with the U.S. The PhiladelphiaChapter of the National Committee toFree the Puerto Rican Political Prisonersand Prisoners of War (Comité Nacional)arranged to bring the works to Philadelphiafor an exhibition at Taller Puertorriqueño.These works served as motivation for theyouth who were also organizing at Taller.

The entire YAP summer program of1998 was centered on the commemoration.Students participated in workshops onPuerto Rican history and culture. The Spiral Q Puppet Theater, was broughtin for a special collaboration to help theteens organize an art pageant/ paradescheduled for the eve of the centennial.Together, the youth participants designedthe concepts for the artwork that would beincluded in the parade and chose its title,La parranda de libertad. La parranda wasled, as in true parranda fashion, byPhiladelphia’s Los Pleneros del Batey. The parade included a combination ofovertly politically charged works, such as a ten-foot wide wooden structure of thePuerto Rican flag behind bars and the facesof the political prisoners within the star, as well as more subtle religious images thatallegorically tied in to the theme of PuertoRican nationhood. The latter wasrepresented by a huge yellow cross with the Puerto Rican flag draped over it,symbolizing both crucifixion and sacrifice.Equally provocative was a brightly painted12-foot tall puppet of Atabex, the Taínofertility figure that appears in the bateysof the Caguana Ceremonial Park nearUtuado, Puerto Rico. This figure wasdesigned by several girls in the class who

[ 124 ]

East Harlem mural. Vagabond.

Hernández(v1).qxd 12/10/05 3:38 PM Page 124

Sanitation Department by the YoungLords a generation before, in 1998 theseartists were still struggling to keep theirstreets clean and insert some of PuertoRico’s beauty into El Barrio, whilevisually presenting a hidden segment of our history for all to see. In essence,Chief Seattle’s point was corroborated bythe end result of the attempted anti-Columbus mural. Private property kepthis people’s history and his words off thecorner of 106th and Lexington.

The issue of private property is one thatis also contested by Bronx-born,Philadelphia-based graffiti artist DanOne(Danny Polanco). Dan resents the termvandal, stating that vandals came fromEurope “to burn and destroy villages.” He describes the rage he feels walkingthrough the streets of El Barrio inPhiladelphia, named after such “vandals.”For Dan, tagging up your name as a graffitiartist should be no more of a crime thansomeone claiming a street or avenue withhis or her name on a sign. If these streetsigns represent someone staking a claim,then that is what graffiti artists intend todo with their work: mark their streets ashome. With this approach, Dan’s politicsmirror the anarchistic views of Rican-struction that kept them from ever askingfor permission to paint on a wall. However,when asked if he believes in anarchism,Dan frowns upon the term saying, “I don’tlike that word; that’s a European term. I practice the same communal codes thatthe Taíno people did long before the arrivalof the Europeans.” It may just be a matterof labels, but there is still a resistancetowards U.S. authority. This is the sameresistance that was demonstrated by PedroAlbizu Campos proclaiming that the 1898Treaty of Paris (that ended the Spanish-American War and ceded Puerto Rico tothe U.S.) was illegal, right along with theU.S. occupation. Citing the two countries’failure to consult with the autonomousgovernment of Puerto Rico, Albizumaintained that the occupation and

transition of power were illegal. This resistance to U.S. authority is alsodemonstrated by the Puerto Rican politicalprisoners, who claim POW status and havealways demanded hearings by aninternational jury, refusing to accept anyU.S. jurisdiction over their bodies and theirhomeland. For artists claiming anarchismor Taíno communal codes as their drivingforce, the intent is the same and that is toresist U.S. authority over Puerto Rico.

For DanOne independence is anecessary step in Puerto Rico’s ability totake back its land and its resources. Havingbeen dispossessed robs us from the veryelement that our native ancestors held assacred—access to all of our land withoutthe restraints of private property. Helpingformulate this ideology was an experienceDan had while working in Brooklyn. In befriending some Haudenosaunee(Iroquois) folks there, out of respect tothem, he asked permission to paint ontheir walls. They responded, “We don’t own the land, we’re just the caretakers.”

With his graffiti pieces, DanOnepays homage to the Taíno people andtheir spiritual heritage. His name“DAN” is presented in the shape of apyramid, with intersections of lines and strokes of color that make up itsletters in a technique he equates to“engineering.” These pieces areconstructed in the form of a Taínothree-pointer cemí. On either side onecan see the profiles of a face and legsrespectively, as in the pre-Columbiananthropomorphic figures. This incor-poration of the cemí runs parallel tothe artist’s appreciation of NativeAmerican and African spiritual systems.The mound of earth, which isrepresented by the sacred cemí, is associated with the supreme deityYucayú (spirit of cassava) and wasthought to help in the production of yuca crops (Rouse 1992: 118).Therefore it also associated withfertility and the feminine as

[ 127 ]

July 25th, 1998, came and went withoutany change in Puerto Rico’s status.Although the moment was ripe for young,energetic artists/ activists to becomejaded, it was understood that the struggleand work would continue. Miguel Lucianorecalls, “I think the 1998 date was asymbolic time, but didn’t anticipatesignificant change … on or after this dateparticularly. It was midway through theRossello administration’s second term andthey were leading the most corrupt pro-statehood administration in the history of Puerto Rico. The contrasts andcontradictions were as extreme as everand the fever continues today. The workcontinues” (Personal communication withMiguel Luciano).

Part of the continuing struggle is the need to challenge displacement,secure our position within ourcommunities, build these communitiesand their resources, and develop vehiclesto preserve and promote our PuertoRican idiosyncrasies. A few months after the centennial commemoration,Ricanstruction members decided thatthe wide corner of 106th Street andLexington Avenue would be the perfectsite for a plaza. The idea was to have an

outdoor space where communityresidents could gather just like in theplazas of Puerto Rico. However, insteadof a cathedral or a ceiba tree, the claimingof la plaza was to be marked with theinstallation of an anti-Columbus muralfeaturing Taíno images. It was October of1998, and the commemoration had comeand gone with our status unaffected. The discourse was to continue, however,through a visual celebration of Boriken’sindigenous heritage as a statementagainst the atrocities and thecolonization that followed afterColumbus’ voyages. The Taíno imageswere to be accompanied by an excerpt of Chief Seattle’s thoughts of the buyingand selling of land: “How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land?The idea is strange to us.”

Ironically the attempt at this Boricuaplaza failed because bank employees andco-op residents, representing the ownersof the chosen wall space, forced theartists to quit midway into the project. It didn’t matter that the wall had been inpoor condition prior to being carefullyprimed by the young artists at their ownexpense. As with the collective streetclean-up initiatives and the protest of the

[ 126 ]

Machetero mural, East Harlem. Vagabond.

Hernández(v1).qxd 12/10/05 3:38 PM Page 126

Here Dan refers to the stylistic,interlocking letters of graffiti text thatcomprise this code. Those who existoutside of, and who look down on, thebarrios not only find graffiti to bedifficult to decipher, they dismissgraffiti as a manifestation of ghetto life and therefore do not take interestin its message. This outside resistance,coupled with the stylistic reinventionof graffiti by each new generation,anchors it as the foremost secret codeof urban youth. In the case of graffiti as liberation art, the code is combinedwith a visual record of our culturalexperience. This makes it even moresubversive as it challenges the effectsof Americanization that encourage usto abandon our history and ethnicidentity in order to assimilate into themainstream American culture. Thus,utilizing ethnic symbols like the cemí, in addition to being an act of culturalaffirmation, becomes a political one. “To use that symbol is to stamp it intheir face: We know who we are! [We]managed to take your language, flip it onyou into a new dialect to communicatewith [our] people. But the only one whocan’t read it is you, cause you’ll neverunderstand it” (Personal communicationwith Dan Polanco).

The respect that Dan’s workgenerates in the North Philadelphiacommunity makes him an inspirationto the youth who see themselvesreflected in his pieces. As an alumnusof the Cinco Graphics Program in theearly stages of Taller Puertorriqueño,Dan became a mentor and residentartist for the teen participants of theYouth Artist Program. His role wouldbecome more prominent in developingthe artist/ activist component of YAP.

Realizing that the work did not endwith the passing of the centennialdate, the same YAP students who hadcreated La parranda de libertad wenton to organize a youth forum in the

spring of 1999 for the teens of NorthPhiladelphia on the issue of PuertoRico’s political status. They combinedan exhibit of their own works withpresentations by teachers, artists,historians, poets, and musicians thatserved as a daylong multidisciplinaryteach-in. Also that spring, YAPstudents and I took a trip to Brooklyn,where Juan Sánchez was graciousenough to allow 25 of us into his studiospace. The young people who hadadmired his works at Taller were nowgiven the opportunity to see them upclose and discuss the narrativespresented in Juan’s work.

After I returned to New York Citypermanently, DanOne became YAP’snew director. Among his manycontributions was the development ofa mural component for the program.With sponsorship from the Mural ArtsProgram—which ironically began asThe Anti-Graffiti Network but nowsupports the art of a radical graffitiartist—Dan guided the teens in thecreation of a highly captivating muralof Don Pedro Albizu Campos on 5thStreet, two blocks south of Taller. Intrue Philadelphia tradition, a granitemosaic makes up the Nationalistleader’s face and clenched fists, whichshimmer in the sunlight. His portraitis layered over the Puerto Rican flag.As in DanOne’s other works, Taínoreferences are once again employedwith a mosaic inspired by the symbolfor el juracán at each corner of themural, serving as the inspiration forthe title of the piece: Los cuatrovientos. To the right is yet anothermosaic, shaped like the island ofVieques with the graffiti text “Paz ParaVieques” over the image. The teenschose to work with the figure ofAlbizu after learning about his life andwork. They were inspired by the factthat he left Puerto Rico to study at theUniversity of Vermont and then

[ 129 ]

represented by Yucayú’s mother, Atabex.Paying homage to the feminine isparamount in Dan’s attempt to reclaimour roots as he feels the reverence ofgoddesses was lost with the impositionof Western religion on African andNative faith systems.

As with the other artists included inthis essay, Dan prioritizes this urgency inreclaiming and recording our own history.In graffiti, the process of documentingthe relationship of art and word is takento the next level. As Dan puts it, thegraffiti subway style of writing that heidentifies with, encompasses what hedescribes as an “encrypted code.”

Communication is a threat.Press, phone calls, Internetusage, these things are allmonitored. Graffiti can’t bemonitored cause they don’tknow the code. Everygeneration mutates it, takesit to the next level. It’s thehidden code of the street(Personal communication with Dan

Polanco).

[ 128 ]

Los cuatro vientos (2000). DanOne and YAP. Mural, 5th Street, North Philadelphia.

Hernández(v1).qxd 12/10/05 3:38 PM Page 128

His own cut, pasted, layered, and tornurban wall aesthetic brings visual life tothe band’s urban graffiti and punkvernaculars resulting in a collage that is part barrio streets, part CBGB wall.

Again these interdisciplinarycollaborations allow artists to pool theirtalents to most effectively convey themessages for liberation. Vagabond is aninterdisciplinary artist who makes graphicwork, graffiti, paintings, and films; his2004 film Machetero combines music,text, and the moving image to chroniclethe development of a homeless youth intoa mentally and physically armed freedomfighter. Viewers sympathizing with theU.S. definition of a terrorist will find itdifficult to determine whether the moredangerous threat in this film isrepresented by the character’s weapons or his seamless knowledge of liberationstruggles past and present.

As with Vagabond’s film Machetero,recent work in this movement takes on a more confrontational approach, usingshock value to provoke thought andaction. In an image that defies what myparents have taught me about respectingmy elders, another commemoration—that of the 50th anniversary of the 1954Nationalist attack on the House ofRepresentatives—compelled me to paint

Lolita Lebrón nude. Enraged bycomments about Lolita’s gender thatattempt to confine women to two roles,mother and lover, I recreated her profileat the time of her arrest. She is presentednude to force the voyeurs to confronttheir own ignorance and to challenge theshock that resonated throughout theworld when everyone learned that it hadbeen a young woman who had led thatattack. The prison bars glazed over hernude skin recall the abuse she andcountless other female freedom fightershave endured as the oppressor convertsour bodies into our own holding cells. Her portrait, enclosed in a collage of otherfemale revolutionaries of color, is titled Elpesar y orgullo de la revolucionaria(2004).

The words pesar y orgullo convey thevery nature of this movement: sorrow forour present condition, yet pride for ourhistory and the conceptual nationhoodwe uphold despite the fact that we havebeen robbed of its political identity. As photographer and digital artist TaniaM. Frontera observes, “A Puerto Ricanwho defends and talks about [his or her]culture, identity and history, specificallyabout our colonial status, is viewed as aterrorist in this nation” (Personalcommunication with Tania Frontera).

[ 131 ]

Harvard, but when he was offeredlucrative jobs in the states, he feltcompelled to return to struggle for theliberation of the island. The YAP teensof El Barrio identified with thisrevolutionary leader of humble origins.Artworks of this movement and organ-izations such as Taller Puertorriqueñocontinue to promote self-knowledge inour youth and instill a great sense ofpride, both of which are paramount inthe effort to undo the cycles ofcolonialism. As with Albizu’s penetratingvoice, and incendiary politics, the Cuatrovientos mural continues to commandrespect and attention from all who walkor drive past it.

P’alante in the new century: Resistinga bicentennial commemoration

Se trata de una crónica demigración y reconstrucción deidentidades... se trata de uncuento callejero donde haydioses y asesinos. Cárceles,enfermedades y verjas.Centenario dolor de colonia.Pero también grito de la visiónnueva: los puertorriqueñospueden encontrarse a símismos en el nuevo siglo y elarte puede ser una de lasluces que aclare el misterio delcamino1 (López 1998: 4).

Although the effects of thecommemoration protests were not feltimmediately, the majority of the politicalprisoners, including Elizam Escobar,came home in 1999, and the bombing onVieques ceased in 2003. Although there ismuch to be celebrated in these accom-plishments, the artist/activist communityis savvy enough to recognize that those

pardons came with very strict conditions,and in essence our freedom fighters werenot fully freed. In fact, even with uncon-ditional pardons, they would not considerthemselves free since their freedom issynonymous with the liberation of PuertoRico. In addition, Oscar López Rivera,Haydee Beltrán, and Carlos AlbertoTorres still remain behind bars, alongwith several of the Viequesdemonstrators. As for Vieques, it is inneed of much rebuilding and will requiregenerations of healing for its ecosystem.

Perhaps having served witness to thepassing of the first centennial has madeus realize that a bicentennial under thesame political limbo could occur. As if toprevent that in every way imaginable,song lyrics become more explicit, poetrymore provocative, and imagesunapologetic. In the 1999 CD ProjectBlues by The Welfare Poets, Juan Sánchezjuxtaposes the faces of Pedro AlbizuCampos and Malcolm X with those ofLolita Lebrón and Assata Shakur—all ofwhom expressed no subtleties in theirapproach towards liberation. In the 2004Ricanstruction CD, Love+Revolution, Juan Sánchez again lends his support toyounger artists, creating the cover art. In a masterful six-panel collage, the artistcombines his beautifully torn manospoderosas, pastel flowers, and white doveswith all things radical. Included in thiswork are Machetero and FALN symbols,a Palestinian flag, the chained foot of aslave, Puerto Rican anarchofeministLuisa Capetillo, and again Albizu andMalcolm X. With these collages, thePuerto Rican, African, and Palestinianliberation struggles are presented side byside. Global acts of injustice are recordedin these panels with glimpses of light andhope interspersed in the form ofSánchez’s flowers and doves and in themany revolutionary faces featured. In thiscollaboration, Juan translatesRicanstruction’s politics and musicalarrangements into a visual format.

[ 130 ]

Dan cemí (1999). DanOne. Mural, North Philadelphia.

Hernández(v1).qxd 12/10/05 3:38 PM Page 130

privilege to which only a few have access.As with the initiatives of ©Ricandition,the former Puerto Rico Collective,Ricanstruction and institutions like TallerPuertorriqueño, Inc., our work must bepresented within grassroots vehicles thatmake it accessible to all levels of ourcommunity. Now more than ever, itbecomes imperative to present ourmessages explicitly, in an effort toeffectively compete with mass marketingstrategies and media manipulations thatdistract our communities (our youth inparticular) from the real social burdensthat harm us. As illustrated in theexamples presented in this paper, a keycomponent in creating and presentingconscious art is the direct contact withour people by working in the streets and/or with community-based organizations.

As participants in this new Boricuapolitical art movement, we do notsubscribe to the myth that thissituation persists because we lack theability to self-govern. We understandthe debilitating effects of five centuriesof colonialism and seek to overturnthese with every stroke of a brush oraerosol can until this colonial structurehas been successfully dismantled. Until then we will continue painttoward our liberation, providingconsolation for our wounded politicalidentity and inciting action. We havemade the conscious decision to support the independence movementand to use our art as a tool forliberation. Firm in our stance, and with nothing to hide, subtlety has no place in our imagery.

[ 133 ]

Despite systematic repression of theindependence movement through gaglaws, COINTELPRO, imprisonment,and the torture of our prisoners and evenin the post 9/11 homeland security-obsessed U.S., Boricua political artistscontinue p’alante in their liberation art.

This very sentiment inspired the2005 independent release of the 2ndWelfare Poets album, Rhymes forTreason. This title speaks to theircommitment to use their poems/wordsto evoke nationalist sentiments anddenounce colonialism and injustice.Recognizing that such acts have beenhistorically viewed as “treason” in thiscountry, they chose this as the title.For the album cover, I designed animage of Don Pedro Albizu Camposscreaming, the fire of his wordsigniting the American flag, which is

seen in flames. Thebackground features—similar to myIndependence Daypainting of 1998—theinverted text of the U.S.constitution.

Acknowledging thatwhat is deemed as an actof “treason” by theUnited States is often anact of heroism ornationalism for PuertoRicans, ©Ricandition, a new artist collective,debuted its campaign ofimages rallying supportfor the remaining PuertoRican political prisoners.The first images includeworks by Carlos AlbertoTorres and Oscar LópezRivera, two of theremaining politicalprisoners. ©Ricanditionwas conceived by artistJuan Sánchez as acollective that launcheson-going grassroots

poster campaigns to spread awarenesson various issues impacting the PuertoRican community. Juan, MiguelLuciano, and I have organized tocollect artist submissions and developeducational texts that will accompanyeach campaign. This first campaign wasproduced on postcards for the purposeof debuting at the Puerto Rican DayParade where mass quantities of cardswith images and corresponding textswere distributed to our people.

Conclusion Although American citizenship ispromoted as a great advantage, PuertoRicans continue to be among the poorestin this nation. We are a people in crisisand cannot lose sight of the fact that aquality education continues to remain a

[ 132 ]

A C K N O W L E D G E M E N T S

First I must acknowledge all artists who work to strengthen our collective spirit—artistsand are considered too radical for the mainstream. I would especially like to thank allformer and current YAP students, Ivan Gartner, Not4Prophet, Vagabond, Emily"Resister" Fernández, DanOne, Miguel Luciano, Tania M. Frontera, Juan Sánchez (forhis sincerity and selfless nurturing of young artists), Johnny Irizarry (for bringing me toTaller and for your contagious passion), Elizam and Eli Escobar, Ramón López, CarlosTorres, Hector Rivera, Ray Ramirez and The Welfare Poets, the former Philadelphiaand Camden chapter members of Comité Nacional, and last but not least YasminRamírez and Xavier Totti.

N O T E S1 These words were taken from Ramón López’s introduction to his pieces and those ofJuan Sánchez and Elizam Escobar, featured in the 1998 traveling exhibition, Images ofInvasion. This show was coordinated by López for The Pedro Albizu Campos Museum inChicago and was exhibited in the theater of Taller Puertorriqueño’s Education Buildingin the summer of 1998.

R E F E R E N C E S

Laviera, Tato. 1985. AmeRícan. Houston: Arte Público Press.

López, Ramón. 1998. ‘Imágenes de invasión/ Images of invasion: 1898–1998’. Que OndeéSola 26(4–5): 4.

Rouse, Irving. 1992. The Tainos. New Haven: Yale University Press

Boricua Your Destiny is in Your Hands (1995). Juan Sánchez. © Juan Sánchez and ©RICANdition 2005, political prisoner image campaign. Postcard design: Juan Sánchezand Zachary Fabri. Reprinted, by permission, from Juan Sánchez and Ricandition, Inc.

3(

Hernández(v1).qxd 12/10/05 3:38 PM Page 132