Now in its final week, the huge photography exhibition Americanos playing at the Museum of Fine Arts in St. Petersburg presents an extraordinary glimpse into the multi-dimensional world of the American Latino population. MFA's hosting of this exhibition also speaks to the role of fine arts museums in sociological education. Historically, there are precedents: Lewis Hine's early 20th century documentary photos of child laborers, eventually shown at New York's Metropolitan Museum; the "It Takes a Village" precursor, "The Family of Man" photos, debuting at MoMA in 1955 when promoting cultural commonality was a high priority; Cindy Sherman's societally subversive self-portraits; and Lucy Orta's recent CAM exhibition, both continuing the chain of social issues cum art.
Such exhibitions deserve a platform when they address the dynamics of multicultural issues. Their value comes into play even more when museums display peculiar avant-garde or conceptual art that gains a worshipful audience nurtured on schlock shock.
Yet there are other issues worth considering. Within Americanos' vast collection of photography are the great disparities between documentary photojournalism, which is at times easy to overlook, and, at the other end, sociological messages wrapped in stunning aesthetics.
For example, the photo of actor Andy Garcia — that rightfully proud and successful Latino son — lacks meaning beyond our surface recognition of his achievement or fame. Contrast this with Paul Perez's stunning photo of a fallen horse and falling cowboy. This image not only exquisitely captures motion but another occupation, albeit in a nearly abstract presentation.
Such challenges make the museum a place of learning — a welcome destination for many in our own Bay area communities. But Americanos also presents an opportunity to discern aesthetic wheat from the more ordinary chaff.
Despite my longtime craving for images rich in "art," there are no easy answers here. Indeed, on my second visit to the galleries, I overheard a woman tell her friend, "Generally I'm not interested in photographs but this seems quite interesting." I take such words very seriously.
The powerhouse exhibition sponsorship is important as well: a triumvirate consisting of actor/community activist Edward James Olmos, the Smithsonian Institution Traveling Exhibition Service and the Smithsonian Center for Latino Initiatives. Olmos' objectives are to present "people who are diverse in culture, color, idea and dreams." The photography component, the core of a multimedia presentation, is divided into instructive thematic sections. Family. Sports. Work. Culture and the arts. Worship (including a Sephardic rabbi, which is essentially multiculturalism within multiculturalism).
We learn that Latinos or Hispanics mirror many American families and also recognize common experiences and history of other immigrant forbears.
We observe the obvious pride of education and achievement. The Harvard graduate female physician and her congressman husband. A female NYC policewoman of Puerto Rican descent. Antonio Perez's beautifully composed triple portrait of a young water polo team. Rita Rivera's stunning patrician profile of an elegant woman. Also oyster shuckers, TV photojournalists and three brothers with a Latino/Irish bloodline. A factory worker sewing an American flag, her Gap shirt the great homogenizer. Cheery familial or occupational images exuding pervasive American pre-9/11 optimism.
The other reality is poverty and social isolation of the migrant culture. Some of the finest photos, taken by Miami photographer Janet Jarman, depict the migrant child Marisol. Intuitively, effortlessly, she transforms what in some hands might have been ordinary black-and-white snapshots into art, her truly masterful images escaping pedestrian portraiture. The child/woman Marisol, scarred by responsibility, holding a baby, presumably her sibling. Time is stilled, and if the plastic water bottle in the background was removed and her dress altered to reflect 19th century fashion, we might be viewing a century-old image. Diagonal bedspread stripes convert this quiet interior into a meticulously, artfully constructed composition.
Other Jarman entries are the poignant close-up of Marisol's face, and an image of the little girl as outsider in her new American school. Accompanying text (included throughout the exhibition) delivers the child's own response to the migrant experience. We come away touched by this wonderful, rare alliance between art and sociological subject.
Take your family to see this exhibition. You'll all be the richer for sharing experiences and accomplishments of America's fastest-growing population.
Freeze-Framing History. At the other end of the spectrum, Tampa Gallery of Photographic Arts, the Bay area's budding storefront photography museum, presents a traveling collection of 34 documentary photographs offering a rare glimpse into history. They also demonstrate how the passage of time often converts nearly forgotten photographs into historical documents, and on occasion, a welcome foray into fine art itself.
The silver print photographs, all circa 1948, are the work of Nicholas Orzio, a retired Florida resident. As a U.S. Signal Corps photographer in post-World War II Japan, Orzio was also one of Gen. Douglas MacArthur's team of photographers. On Nov. 12, 1948, his 20th birthday, he photographed Hideki Tojo, the military leader who ordered the attack on Pearl Harbor. Snapping the photo through screening in a small, dark temporary cell, Orzio captured his subject "breaking bread" shortly after he was sentenced to death. It is the only documented image of Tojo at this historic moment, chilling as his eyes meet ours, a reminder that monsters often look remarkably like other people.
Orzio's subjects include rice paddies, a market topped by a spectacular sky, peasants at work and the homeless sleeping in squalor. In "Gathering Firewood," leathered hands and torn clothing mirror the tragic imprinting on an aged face. Two titles direct us to insects within the image, nearly invisible and poignantly reminding us of the photographer's young age.
Two images illustrate fascinating polarities of power. In "The Emperor's Hat," incredible for its in-your-face realism, the Emperor's sidewalk stroll subtly democratizes the fallen leader. By contrast, there is Occupation Commander MacArthur and his aide in lock-step, like a pair of powerful walking columns before two military men as frozen sentinels. Images walking the fine line between photojournalism and art.
"The Beginning" moves easily into aesthetic terrain: a young man siting alone amid the rubble of a building shell — ironically, despite its title, all symbols of the price of war.
Though you can't buy images or gifts here, think of supporting this new museum as its passionate founders build a sound reputation for quality exhibitions and educational programs.
Adrienne M. Golub can be reached by e-mail at adrienne.golub@weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in Dec 27, 2001 – Jan 2, 2002.