Cuban Diaries By Monika Teal - Part 1 of 2

In 1859, Joseph J. Dimock, after returning from Cuba, wrote in his diary: "My short stay here seems a dream; but it is a dream of too bright things to be forgotten. The groves of oranges and palm, the odor of the thousand sweet flowers, the cool nights and sunny days of the tropics, smiling skies and laughing waters…all these and a thousand other pleasant memories." More than 140 years after, it is still the same. Like Mr. Dimock, I cannot get Cuba out of my mind. Its memories have altered my life and my perceptions.

I spent three short weeks in Santiago de Cuba, Baracoa, and Havana. Global Tapestry, a non-profit organization whose objective is to foster goodwill through the sharing of cultural ideas and the celebration of diversity, concentrating on Eastern Cuba, sponsored my visit. I met with artists and visited studios and galleries and wandered the streets of the Oriente and Havana and noticed the difference between the two sections of Cuba. Since my return, I have spent sleepless nights in memory and recall. What I saw and experienced in this island country will not leave me. I have returned to America with is a tremendous respect for the artists of Cuba. Most particularly those of the eastern Cuban region of the Oriente.

The Cuban artists I spoke with do not feel part of the mainstream of the post-modern art world. Though highly trained and educated, as most Cubans are, (the Cuban government ensures that its artists excel in their realm as well as its athletes), they do feel isolated from what is happening in the post modern art world. They persist with their art, in spite of a lack of art materials and art supplies. They persist, in spite of not being fully informed of what the art trends are, or what the market demands. They produce art in circumstances that would discourage most other artists. They paint in bedrooms; they sculpt in houses that are collapsing. Their homes are more galleries for their work than they are residences. They paint in a country where there are food shortages and luxuries (luxuries?) are blockaded. They paint in a country where there is government censorship of the arts. Sometimes they even paint without paint. One artist said to me " I paint because I suffer." This cliché now has a new meaning for me, forever.

Cuba is a country of ironies, and the art of the Cubans reflects the ironies. The US has blockaded Cuba, yet the accepted currency is the US dollar. The cars are mostly pre- 1960 US cars. Restaurants have limited menus and sometimes have no food. Although artists and surgeons study for their respective professions equal amounts of time, artists routinely make more money than surgeons do. Well-educated people (education is free in Cuba) can have a higher standard of living as a waiter or taxi driver than a doctor. As one Cuban artist said to me, repeatedly, as if in a trance, "It is a very beautiful country. It is a very beautiful country. It is a very beautiful country."

Many masterfully painted works reflect the irony of daily life. As one artist in Santiago de Cuba pointed out to me, "There is no rational for how or why here. Some rules and laws make no sense and the need for other laws does not exist. Past and present meld into one existence here. Pulling bits and pieces together is survival." The absurdity of life is reflected in much of the art being produced.

Irony. And the irony is in the paintings. It seems to be the driving force for many of the artists. The artists, especially the Havana based ones, strive to incorporate their own work within American and European trends, while still maintaining a strong Cuban identity.

This shared Cuban identity is split. There seems to be a division between Havana and the Oriente. When most of us think of Cuba, it is of Havana. The rest of Cuba is less thought of and lingers in the shadows of Havana. This has much to do with location.

Geographically, Havana is only a short 90 miles from the coast of the U.S. The position of economy. The Oriente is more positioned to the Caribbean. The art from this region reflects the Afro Cuban culture and the "old" Cuba. Many styles and different subjects are evident. There are the sugar cane and agricultural painters; there are the fishermen and the landscape artists. Other styles reflect the spiritual life of the Cuban. African aesthetics, especially the Yoruba tradition, provides the framework from which Cuban culture is built. It is the original Cuban heritage, still very strong in the Oriente. The artists draw from the images of the Santeria religion and the indigenous population of the Taino. Other styles reflect strong European influence, i.e. cubism, surrealism, kitsch. And the very brave and the very creative produce highly individual works. All reflect the excellent training and commitment to their styles. Colors are, of course, tropical and the cross- cultural identities of the Cuban are evident in the use of symbols and subject matters.

The Oriente is a region open, or, oriented, in general, to the diversity and the exchange of all types. This general characteristic is reflected by all the plastic arts in the Oriente. The painters have followed the models of the history of art. They look toward Europe in affirmation of their past connection to it historically. The oldest cities in Cuba are in the Oriente, with Baracoa being the earliest and Santiago being the first capital of Cuba. Eastern Cuba's history explores the violence of slavery, in addition to European and African aesthetics. The Caribbean influence of the Oriente's cultural identity reflects the African ways of negotiating ideas, identity and belief. But the African aesthetic is hybridized with the Native American and European influences on the island. The Caribbean is a conglomerate of nations rolled together, which makes for an interesting combination of styles and ideas.

Most of these highly trained artists in the Oriente region feel a particular sort of isolation. When a Cuban artist wants to develop his or her potential for a market, they go to Havana. There they feel they will get the exposure they cannot get living in the Oriente. Those who remain in the Oriente gamble never having the exposure to the western post-modern art world that the Havana artists get. They remain in the original Cuban culture, which, for the most part, is loyal to the original Oriente culture. The aesthetic changes here are slower, less trendy than the Havana ones.

The eastern Cuban artists' sense of isolation is also isolation from a more capitalist art scene, as well as from western Cuba. Havana has its Third World/Caribbean Exposition, which has brought world-class fame and respect to Havana artists. The works of these artists reflect a consciousness and a response to belonging to a larger art scene. Eastern Cuban artists are more restricted. Their ability to travel is even more limited. Art magazines and periodicals are even scarcer, and those obtained are usually outdated in an art world where trends can come and go with lightening speed. Resources outside of Havana are much slimmer in the Oriente. All of this is not necessarily negative, indeed the artists of eastern Cuba, in spite of their isolation, have produced a vital and particular body of work. Under the embargo, the artists must find the truth and their own expressions in an art, sometimes creating works that initially do not make much visual sense. This, I believe, is an expression of the liberation from the first world. Those Cuban artists who have immigrated to Europe and America have nurtured the current art market in those countries.

What is left, then, in the Oriente region, are styles reflecting the Afro/Cuban culture with little influence from the outside, other than art history and materials supplied from tourists and visitors from other cultures. Much of what is produced in Cuban art is responsive to the tourist dollar, and Cuban tourist kitsch is not difficult to find. That kitsch, the work that sells to a public with little developed artistic taste, is what separates Art from art; art that is aesthetically produced versus art for the popular culture. It puts food on the table, generally referred to as "pot boiler" art.

Life seems harder in the Oriente. The dollar is more difficult to find. Painting for the tourist is no guarantee that the tourist will buy. When there is a sale, the artist can then buy paint. With each tourist dollar comes the artist's freedom to be flexible in his or her style. They are given a chance to pursue the art they really love to do but that has lower tourist market value.

With a smaller connection to mainstream art, a strong Afro Cuban component comes through in the art works from the Oriente. Multi-cultural Cuba, with its African, European and Oriental backgrounds, appropriates elements of its cultures to produce its own art. This island nation presently has such a strong effect on the art world. What is happening here cannot be defined in Western art terms.

For anyone other than a Cuban to do so would be to change the meanings of the works produced. The artists do not intentionally compete with artists from the Western mainstream. They are seldom competitive with each other, expressing the mentality of the socialist society in which they were educated. Many artists think it a helpful democracy to exhibit with lesser successful or less known. It is a way to make an exhibition stronger. They are supportive to each other, regardless of the degree of fame for each artist. The absence of the Western artist's ego is blatantly obvious here.

When shown outside of Cuba, the work still belongs to the national reality of life. One that separates it from other countries, regardless of technical skills and other artistic elements. Due to Cuba's isolation, and the Oriente more so than Havana, the artists engage in a special dialogue within their own society. The spectator is the judge of the work. They do not respond to definitions of art and success as defined in a Western market. Cuba is challenging the art world. The entire world is responding.

Continued... (Part 2)