In
1931 the Museum of Modern Art hosted its second solo exhibition (after Henri Matisse)
for the Mexican muralist Diego Rivera. Unable to move his large frescos from
their perches in Mexico, San Francisco and Moscow, Rivera instead painted a
series of eight portable cement slab murals in Midtown Manhattan. Reunited at
MOMA are five of the eight murals in an exhibition curated by Leah Dickerman,
who had recently organized the ‘Bauhaus: Workshop of Modernity’ survey in 2009.
Just as the Bauhaus artists had an anti-war and utopian undertone that jived
well with the left’s disillusionment with Obama’s handling of the Afghan
offensive, so Rivera’s murals speak to our own economic anxieties. Rivera
tapped into the mood of the Depression through his depiction of down-on-its
luck New York, as well as his usual indigenous Mexican themes. Rivera, an avowed
communist who had run afoul of the Party in Moscow and Mexico, felt no
compunction about taking a commission from the super-rich Abby Aldrich Rockefeller,
the founding member of the Museum. In addition to the five murals displayed are
several large cartoon drawings, smaller sketchbooks and related ephemera that
help flesh out the picture of Rivera’s time in New York. Explored in Rivera’s
murals are his usual themes of power and the oppressed envisioned in Manichean
binaries. Compositionally elegant, up close his paintings displays the inherent
weakness of the fresco technique. Made by combining pigment to a quick drying
lime binder, fresco once applied to a wall becomes as hard as cement and equally unmovable. Fresco, meant
to be seen far off (in a chapel or on the top of a ceiling), up close the
colors appear pasty and washed out. Rivera’s color and paint handling flattens his
actors—already verging on the caricature—into an otherwise well balanced
composition. Unfortunately, Rivera’s technique heightens his underlying
weakness as an artist. While topical and compelling, Rivera’s murals fail to
convince as artistic and revolutionary stratagems. Never meeting a person who did not play to
type (the earth goddess peasant, the charismatic revolutionary, the big bad
capitalist), Rivera’s murals too often fall flat into shallow space and shallower
emotional resonance. Several of the large cartoon drawings (drawings sized to
the dimensions of the final painting) become in the end, cartoon-like in their
theatricality. Too often the forms move towards generalities, the elision standing
for the particular utterance. Rivera, who missed the Mexican Revolution while
producing second rate Cubist paintings in Paris, harangues the viewers with his
politics. Instead of dooming him to obscurity, his politics have made him
instead into something worse, a populist who is all too popular.
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Diego Rivera
Electric Power, 1931–32
Fresco on reinforced cement in a galvanized-steel
framework
58 1/16 x 94 1/8" (147.5 x 239 cm)
Private collection, Mexico
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Diego Rivera
Frozen Assets, 1931–32
Fresco on reinforced cement in a galvanized-steel
framework
94 1/8 x 74 3/16" (239 x 188.5 cm)
Museo Dolores Olmedo, Xochimilco, Mexico
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Diego Rivera
Indian Warrior, 1931
Fresco on reinforced cement in a metal framework
41 x 52 1/2 x 3" (104.1 x 133.4 x 7.6 cm)
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Diego Rivera
Agrarian Leader Zapata, 1931
Fresco on reinforced cement in galvanized-steel framework
7' 9 3/4" x 6' 2" (238.1 x 188 cm)
Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Fund
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Diego Rivera
Pneumatic Drill (cartoon for Pneumatic Drilling), 1931
Museo Dolores Olmedo, Xochimilco, Mexico
Charcoal on paper
97 1/4 x 76 7/8" (247 x 195.2 cm)
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