DIEGO RIVERA

    Frescoes by Mexico's most famous artist, Diego Rivera (1886 – 1957), turned up again and again as we explored the city. We first encountered him when we toured Chapultepec Castle, where, along with other frescoes, was one on the

ceiling of the staircase depicting, I think, one of the student cadets plunging to his death rather than be taken alive by US marines. This was just one of many more pictures of outrages against Mexican people by outside invaders. 

   The most famous of his frescoes are in the National Palace, the imposing structure facing the Zocolo. To see them, you have to give the guards a photo ID to keep while you're inside, and once there, other guards keep a close eye on you. 

    The main fresco is on the staircase going up to the second

 floor overlooking a courtyard. It's almost impossible to photograph the pictures, because they wrap around the stairs which divide into two parts as you go up. The overall first 

impression is of color and action, although at the very center is a large eagle perched on a cactus with a snake in its mouth, depicting the myth of the Aztecs selecting this site for their city. 

    When you look more closely, you can identify various highlights (and lowlights) of Mexican history. Bob and I began identifying them as we stood on the staircase, and then again, on the balcony overlooking the staircase, where signs

helped us. To cite just one of many examples, this section shows Spanish priests, after Cortez conquered the Aztecs, trying to eradicate the history of their victims by burning their books, something that actually happened. 

    The staircase led up to a balcony where there were many

more Riviera frescoes. These continued illustrating the great civilization of the Aztecs before they were conquered by the Spanish, and the cruelty and destruction that followed. My favorite section of a panel showed what the City of Tenochititlan (now Mexico City)

might have looked like with the long roadway leading to the Temple Mayor. This section was a backdrop for the main images on the panel, a busy marketplace illustrating all the goods and services available then on a typical day.

    Other frescoes around the balcony showed the ingenuity of the Aztecs as they developed their civilization. One, for example, showed them

producing a kind of paper called amatyl, made from plant fibers. This was of particular interest to me since I have three pictures at home painted by a Mexican artist on this kind of paper.

   

 Today, we visited the Palace of Belles Artes to see even more Rivera frescoes. The palace is a large white building attached to the beautiful Alameda Park. The building itself is a curious mixture of art galleries and a concert hall, and it was a challenge for us to find Rivera's famous, or infamous, fresco,

El hombre en el cruce de caminos (Man at the Crossroads). After we identified which window to buy tickets at, and which elevator and staircases to take, we found it.

    The fresco had originally been commissioned by Nelson Rockefeller for his building on Fifth Avenue, but when he realized its anti-capitalist theme, he had it destroyed. Rivera then recreated it in the Belles Artes building. At the center is a Paul Newman-like man weighing which way to move mankind forward. On one side were pictures of millionaires (the .01%) drinking champagne and playing cards oblivious to people surrounding them looking for food and honest work. On the other side were pictures of what, in the 1930s, Riviera saw as a better political option in the form of Marx, Lenin, and Communist workers.

    Clearly, Diego Rivera was a champion of native Mexicans and working men and women everywhere. What he was against, and depicted in graphic detail, was the subjugation of people by selfless states and greedy individuals. In the National Palace is a special exhibit of somewhere around a dozen rooms tracing the history and genius of the Mexican people up to, but not including, the Spanish conquest. (A condensed version of the Museum of Anthropology) Toward the end of the exhibit was a sign that I'm sorry we did not photograph. It pretty much sums up Rivera's philosophy: What would the Mexican civilization (and the world's, for that matter) have been like if Cortez and his conquistadors had never landed on the shores of this continent?

[Ed. Note: Tomorrow is our flight home. This will be the last posting while in Mexico City for this trip. But who knows? There may be some afterthoughts once we get home!]