Chilly Day in Mexico City Gives Way to Cultural, Culinary and Human Warmth

It's 7:00 AM Monday morning, 41 F and cloudy in Mexico City. Treetops sway gently in a soft breeze. Today's high will be 64 F. Last night we turned on the electric mattress pad for the first time. The electric heater is on in the office. You get the idea.

Museo de Arte Carrillo Gill

Yesterday (Sunday) was the same. When I peeked out, even the streets were wet. It was a day for an indoor 'explore'.  Reed found the Carrillo Gill Museum of Art located in San Ángel, a Colonia (neighborhood) not far from us.  So off we went!

Interestingly, the exhibit was curated by perhaps half a dozen graduate students who were able to select from the Museum's collection of 1,700 works, including many by the renowned 20th century Mexican painters Orozco and Siqueiros.

It is not surprising that these young Mexican curators chose to address the theme of violence: Tiempos Violentos (Violent Times). Each student prepared a salon of paintings, drawings or other media—memorably, video interviews with women. 

In all, there were probably six or eight salons. Each salon was introduced by a curatorial note written by the student-curator. The quality was excellent, thought-provoking.

One standout was a collection of woodcuts and prints (black and white) by various Mexican artists. The subject was the violence that attended the Mexican Revolution (1910-1917). Mexican artists excel in this medium. The works (perhaps fifty in all) convey difficult truths in stark, stirring relief.

Los Muertos (1931), José Clemente Orozco (1883-1949)

One painting by Orozco affected me deeply. Completed in 1931 and titled Los Muertos, the work depicts skyscrapers falling down, but the rhythm, the dynamic destructiveness of the work nonetheless struck me as having a 'lyric' quality.

Los Muertos (1931), José Clemente Orozco

"Now that's a weird reaction," I thought. After I'd walked away, I was moved to return for a second look, which is when I realized that the buildings are coming down from something inside of them rather than from anything external—like a bomb, which is a theme addressed by another artist whose works are exhibited in another salon.

This morning when I looked again, it seems that the buildings are responding to centripetal force—going 'down the drain' of their own, what...unsustainability?

The curator's notes indicate that one of the themes of the works in the exhibit is the unsustainability of the modern way of life.

(Yes, I'm aware that the latest 194-nation conference to discuss the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change opens today in Durban, South Africa; expectations for progress are very low.)

Checking online, I discovered that Orozco lived in New York from 1927 to 1934, where he painted a series of works exploring the "dehumanized and mechanistic character of life in the great metropolis."

A few minutes ago, Reed pointed out that Orozco was in New York when Wall Street crashed in 1929— completing this painting two years later.  Yes, indeed, it is centripetal force at work in Orozco's painting of Los Muertos—and its destructive power is just as devastating in the aftermath of 2008 as it was in 1929!

Speaking of the artist as society's canary in the mine...!

Walkabout (2011), Miguel Ángel Ríos (1943—)

The work of Argentinian artist Miguel Ángel Ríos, also moved me.  Multi-media artist, Argentinian-born Ríos now lives and works in New York and in Mexico's northern deserts.

The title of the work, Walkabout, evokes the rite of passage undertaken by Australia's aboriginal young men. Based on the artist's personal experiences with desert solitude,  Walkabout  "...explores ideas of personal restoration and self-discovery by means of works that show the essential nature of identity, while at the same time questioning the subjectivity of the experience."

Walkabout includes a large, white cut-paper, wall installation (perhaps 4' by 6'), and a sound installation that takes advantage of unique acoustic effects natural to Mexico's northern deserts for capturing the sounds of tools used by men working in these desert lands.

The work also includes a series of six canvases in oil. The canvases are small (maybe 4" high by 16" wide)—so small that for display, they were set on a ledge at eye level. Although I tried hard, I was unable to locate photographs of these exquisite paintings.

Employing a pastel palette, they depict remote desert scenes. Infinity is conveyed in these undersized paintings by a horizon that ever yields to the curvature of the earth. A lone man stands in these barren, awe-inspiring yet somehow serene landscapes. 

The man's tiny figure (1/3" tall) is painted in painstaking detail. In the background of one painting, the man's tiny, red pickup truck is parked in the distance—the artist's spare comment on the relative importance of technology when viewed through the lens of the infinitude of la naturalezza, the natural world.

The paintings eloquently convey the finite-ness of man set against the grandeur of la naturalezza, but this barren landscape is not threatening. It just is...contemporary echoes of Mesoamerican sensibility.

Mexico City Surprises Us

Leaving the Museum, we walked through a flower market to the nearby Plaza del Carmen. Looking for somewhere we might sit down and enjoy 'a little something', we settled on a small restaurant with an artfully hand-lettered sign advertising 'pizza y postres' (pizza and desserts)—perfect!

Were we in for a delightful, unexpected surprise! Five tables charmingly set with blue and white, small-checked tablecloths occupied the first floor. We didn't climb the stairs to the balcony area above. 

We ordered what turned out to be a gourmet pizza made with fresh, fresh ingredients. Thin crust plus a delicate tomato sauce prepared by the chef's own hands, thin slices of eggplant, delicious mozzarella cheese and fresh basil leaves set on top—baked in a wood-fired oven and washed down by a soft red wine. Life is good! 

While waiting for the pizza, we shared an antojito (appetizer)—a warm slice of delicately sliced and marinated (olive oil and vinegar) salmon garnished with fresh basil and spinach leaves and served with slices of fresh, fresh Italian bread. 

We will definitely return. It is the best meal we've had in D.F.  Plus this bistro (little restaurant) had a 'homey' feel to it. We chatted with the chef, who told us he was born in Naples. Now married to a Mexican woman, they run this delightfully unexpected restaurant reminiscent of an Italian bistro.

Even the other customers were muy amable (very nice). An elderly couple seated at the table to our right ordered a delicious-looking poached pear topped with chocolate sauce, served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. I asked our waitress what it was.  The woman must have heard me because she smiled and wished us buen provecho ('enjoy your meal') as they departed. 

Behind Reed was a table for five. At the head of the table was seated a man probably in his early forties; four women (mother, wife, two adult daughters?) completed the party.  Their conversation was animated, enthusiastic, unhurried in the typically Mexican way.  As we left, the man smilingly bid us to 'have a nice day'.  I had the feeling that given half a chance they would have chatted with us.  

To my left was a woman in her fifties having supper with a younger woman. Periodically, Chef Giuseppe sat down with them as they ate—probably family. They had ordered a large, beautiful green salad followed by lasagne—yes, we checked as we left.  Again, warm, welcoming smiles as they responded to my query.  

So we finished up a rare gray, dreary day in the warmth of a spectacularly delicious meal in the company of the friendly, welcoming Mexican people we so enjoy.

When people ask us, Why do you live in Mexico? — need I say more?

Keen to Learn More?

Here's the link to the Museo de Arte Carrillo Gill:  http://www.museodeartecarrillogil.com/

Here's the link to the exhibit Tiempos Violentos:  http://www.museodeartecarrillogil.com/ex_tiemposviolentos.html

Here's the link to Miguel Ángel Ríos' Walkabout:   http://www.museodeartecarrillogil.com/ex_miguelri.html