Brazilian Modernists: Andrade, Portinari and Segall

 

An exposition at the Lesar Segall Museum in São Paulo in the fall of 2015 highlighted a famous trio of artists in the history of Brazilian Modernism. The central figure was Mario (Raul de Morais) Andrade (1893-45). He was a prominent poet, novelist, musicologist and photographer, but he also had a strong voice as an art critic and promoter of modernist tradition. He was especially intertwined with Segall and Portinari whom he called “his artists.”

 

This portrait of Mario de Andrade was done by Lasar Segall, one of two artists featured with Andrade in the exposition of Brazilian Modernism in the Lasar Segall Museum, São Paulo. The second portrait is by Portinari.  Andrade said that Segall caught the “demonic” in him, while Portinari saw the “angelic.”

 

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Portrait of Mario de Andrade by Lasar Segall

 

 Image result for "Candido Portinari" Portrait of Andrade by Cândido Portinari

 

Andrade was trained in music but was unable to pursue a musical career. He turned these skills to what later to ethnomusicology in his famous 1938 Mission to collect folk culture in Brazil.   Americans familiar with the work of Alan Lomax in documenting blues and folk traditions in the United States will recognize the spirit of this Mission.

Lomax “discovered” and popularized iconic figures such as McKinley Morgenfield (Muddy Waters) and Huddy Ledbetter (Leadbelly), and Woody Guthrie. Andrade did not bring new talent to the public in the same way, but he created a basis for the understanding and honoring folk culture. His recordings from 1938 capture songs and music from the Brazilian interior and are available in a multiple-CD set. His book Danças Dramaticas (Dramatic Dances) did much the same for annotation and analysis of popular (“folk”) dance forms.

Lomax had various academic connections much of his career (though never a formal academic appointment).  In addition to documenting and disseminating American folk music, he also developed theories of folk music and dance (e.g., “choreometrics”).

By contrast, Andrade was a protean figure in the arts generally. His book Macanaíma is a modernist classic in Brazil, as are his books of poetry and art criticism. He was not formally connected with a university, but was a prominent figure in various cultural agencies in São Paulo which supported his mission to the Northeast.

The 2015 São Paulo exhibit was held in the Lasar Segall Museum, once the artist’s home and studio.

Andrade’s artists were Lasar Segall and Cândido Portinari. Segall was a Lithuanian Jew transplanted from Europe to São Paulo. Portinari was born of a working class Italian family but was trained in the arts in Brazil and Europe.  As different as they were in background, Portinari and Segall, with the support of Andrade, helped define modernism in Brazilian art.

 

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Cândido Portinari’s paintings of rural workers and peasants were unlike the romantic peasant paintings that preceded him

 

Cândido Portinari (1903-1962) was born to Italian immigrants who worked on a coffee plantation in São Paulo. This background later brought him to the Brazilian Communist Party where he ran as a party candidate for senator in the 1940s. Along the way he had also become a prominent artist

He had won recognition at the National School of Fine Arts (ENBA) and went to Paris between 1928 and 1930. He absorbed elements of European tradition, but combined them with his Brazilian working class sensitivity. He shared with Segall a sympathy for the socially marginalized, especially the urban working class and rural workers. In another similarity, both artists had several works featuring prostitutes.

 

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Another Portinari peasant, in a style that has an obvious kinship with European styles as well as his own Brazilian sympathy for those who were marginalized and oppressed

 

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Some see a racial metaphor in this Portinari painting, though others just see a couple of Modernist chickens

 

 

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Portinari’s “Group of Girls Playing.”  Of the artist’s many stylistic approaches, this one is softer and a bit more abstract (compare to the angularity and harshness of the rural peasant above).

 

Lasar Segall (1891-1957) was Lithuanian Jew and world citizen who traveled between Europe and Brazil until the Nazis came to power. He studied and worked in Europe, was a Russian citizen, moved back and forth to Brazil, and eventually became a Brazilian citizen in the 1920. He was attracted to the “Red Light” districts  of Rio de Janeiro, and later adopted themes of the Brazilian interior, slums, and suffering of the socially and economically marginal.

In Europe his work was lumped together with that of other “Degenerate Artists” attacked by the Nazis in their famous exhibition of the same name (1937). As a Jew, a modernist, and social critic he was safer and had more artistic freedom in Brazil.

Segall later married his student Jenny Klabin, the daughter of wealthy entrepreneurs in the wood and paper industry. The Klabins became a major economic force in Brazil, but various members of the family also became patrons of the arts and collectors. The first-generation Klabins were, like Segall, Lithuanian emigrés.

His style seems to have softened in his later years, but he never totally left the themes of immigration, rural peonage and slavery, and urban marginality.

 

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Segall, like Portinari, returned often to themes of prostitutes

 

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This work from the 1920’s is one of Segall’s most famous.  It depicting Jewish dead left by a Russian pogrom.  His later mural-sized painting Ship of Immigrants from 1939 has much of the same tonality and is one of his best known paintings.

 

Segall’s Ship of Immigrants

Segall’s Ship of Immigrants has a somewhat similar color palette as his pogrom picture, but is sharper and more detailed. The theme of heaped, dead or suffering bodies, is similar.

 

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One of Segall’s most obviously “European” works, Eternal Wanders from 1919.  This work was generally seen by the Nazis as part of the “Degenerate Art” works in the German exhibit of 1937.  The original Nazi exposition”Entartete Kunst” attracted millions and traveled widely in Germany and Austria.  Most of the works had been confiscated originally and many were later destroyed or sold.  One of the Nazi curators joked that they were “sold by the kilo,” but other reports say that much of the modernist art work was sold in highly profitable international art markets.

Women surrealist artists from Mexico: A show in Sao Paulo (December 2015)

The Tomei Ohtake Foundation houses a major exposition of Japanese-Brazilian artist Ohtake’s work, but it is much more.  The building itself it worth a trip, but it also houses traveling exhibits such as this one on Mexican Women Surrealist Artists (running December – January, 2015/16).

 

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The Ohtake Institute is itself a work of art, dedicated to Japanese-Brazilian artist Tomie Ohtake

 

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Ohtake Institute building

 

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A famous Lucien Bloch portrait of Frida Kahlo was used as the billboard wall for the exhibit. At the right is the entrance to a documentary film on Kahlo and the political/artistic world she inhabited.

 

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Self portrait of Frida Kahlo with Diego Rivera

 

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Frida Kahlo, cradling Diego Rivera, and in turn being cradled by nature, the earth, the universe

 

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Diego Rivera, romanticized as a younger, less corpulent man than the photographs of the time show.  For a contrast, see the portrait by Modigliani in the Sao Paulo Museum of Modern Art (earlier post)

 

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Part of Frida Kahlo’s circle of artists included Lola Alvarez Bravo, the photographer of his beautifu gelatin print of Frida and her dogs.

 

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Mexican surrealist artist Olga Costa (Corazon egoista), “The Selfish Heart”

 

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Silvia Fein, Garota de Ajijic, “Girl from Ajijic.” This work is actually part of the holdings of the University of Wisconsin

 

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Andre Breton, a significant influence on Frida Kahlo and Mexican surrealism

 

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This work by Remedios Varo is “Woman Leavng the Psychoanalist”

 

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Also Remedio Varo, “Minotaur”

 

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The only physical artifacts in the show were clothing of Frida Kahlo. Without being to identify them exactly, you had the feeling of having seen them in her paintings

Argentine modernist artists, Buenos Aires Museum of Fine Arts

 

The Buenos Aires Museu Nacional de Bellas Artes

Modernism and Antonio Berni

This is only a tiny selection of a rich display of modern Argentinian art that was remarkable discovery for a first-time visitor in that country.

These works by Berni are part of an exposition on Argentinian Modernism from 1940 to 1970.  The dates are important because modernism came to an end in the 1970’s with the military dictatorship and the “dirty war.”

Argentina, like other dictatorships, had an uneasy relationship with artists — especially leftists.  Virtually all the modern art by Spaniards was done abroad during the Franco regime (e.g., Picasso).  Brazilian art and music were often exiled along with the political opposition, though they were less likely to be tortured and “disappeared” than political opponents and opposition journalists.  In the same way, Argentina’s “dirty war” inflicted thousands of casualties and disappearances on its own citizens.

This makes the modernist exhibit in Buenos Aires all the more poignant.  It was a period of artistic and political ferment.  There are many artists in the display, not all of whom are “political,” even though their styles may not have been popular with the dictatorship.  Antonio Berni is one whose themes seemed to jump off the wall.

Berni and many of his  fellow artists were aware of developments in European art, but had a strong critical identity of their own.  Berni was a committed leftist before the left came under the dictatorship, ending opposition and opposition art.

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Berni, the Argentinian worker crucified

 

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Berni’s images often combined religious themes with workers and prostitutes

 

This is just a personal opinion, but Berni’s work evokes elements of the satirical/critical work of Georg Grosz, the German artist of the Weimar era (though he continued his career in the United States later).  It is deeply graphic and emotional, and sometimes borders on propaganda/poster graphics.  Berni does not have the satirical edge of Grosz, however, and is more literally outraged at injustice of the authoritarian regime and its oppression of opposition.  Grosz often expressed his opposition to German militarism and Nazism in satire and expressionist humor.  Berni’s work has some similarity to German expressionist work of the time, but whatever satire is present takes the form of religious imagery and political outrage.

The Argentinian commentary says he was associated with “informalism” and “New Figuration.”  These schools of art were fermenting in Argentina, but were aware of graphic movements elsewhere in the world.

 

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Even this picture of a dead or dying man has a background of social justice and, in this case, a touch of Pieta. His work often juxtaposes religious imagery and political themes

 

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Antonio Berni’s “Christ in the Apartment” was during the dictatorship (1976-83) and near the end of Berni’s life.

A Day at the Sao Paulo Museum of Art MASP)

September 2015

The front entrance of the Sau Paulo Museum of Art (MASP) on the Avenida Paulista. The roof above is actually the floor of the upper galleries It seems to be supported in part by the pillars (under construction) in the back.
The front entrance of the Sau Paulo Museum of Art (MASP) on the Avenida Paulista. The roof above is actually the floor of the upper galleries It seems to be supported in part by the pillars (under construction) in the back.

 

A spiritual journey in the metro

This begins with a spiritual tour of the metro, one of my favorite metros in the world.

The trip begins with the experience of being an older metro rider.  It goes on a trip to various metro stations that sound like a cheerful pilgrimage beginning with the saint of lost causes and ending in Consolation.

I’ll explain that in a minute, but first …

“Maturity “ has some advantages in this society which has institutionalized “preferential access” for seniors, pregnant women, and people with small children. The icon for a senior (idosa) is a cane, and whenever I carry my hiking stick people flutter out of the especially-designated seats (unless they are more idosa than I). I can also flash any official looking document showing my age on it and they let me ride the metro free.

The same happens in customer lines in stores, for airline boarding, and a myriad other situations where you find yourself saying “ Thank you, but I think I can make it” (and hoping you can).

The real point this particular day was to get to the Sao Paulo Museum of Art (MASP).  The trip begins with a spiritual tour through the stations of the metro.  Many of them are named for indigenous figures and places, but many sound like a trek through Milton’s Paradise Lost.

The spiritual tour to the Sao Paulo Art Museum (MASP).

The main metro line for us that day was from Jabaquara to Tucuruvi, beginning at Sao Judas.  This seems to be Sao Judas Tadeu who is the patron saint of desperation and lost causes.  It is humbling, but appropriate, to start your journey with the patron saint who understands Sao Paulo traffic.

Actually the next stop earlier is Conception (Conceicao).  This a obviously a good place to begin, but who has time for that on the metro.

On some days I would rather start with my favorite patron saint, Santo Expedito.  He is also a patron for lost causes and tough times, but as the name implies (expedite!), he is the saint for getting things done. Now.

Santo Expedito should be the patron saint of Sao Paulo which is the largest, busiest, and most hectic of Brazilian cities.  Getting  things done in a hurry — the specialty of Santo Expedito — is the mirage of city traffic here.

Unfortunately, though, this expeditious saint does not have his own metro station

Along the way are stops for “Health”(Saude), Paradise (Paraiso) with a few others of less mystical meaning. I think you transfer at Paradise to get to the museum, but if you miss it you end up at the stop named Consolacao (Consolation).  This makes some cosmic sense,   but I didn’t get there until later in the day.

The reverse trip takes you back toward Jabaquara to your home base of Sao Judas 

A wrong connection will get you to places that actually sound like places — e.g, Vila Madalena, which I fantasize might be named after Mary Magdalen. It seems to have the same origin in the Hebrew name of Mary of Magdala and is the root for Madeline and many related names.  On the Sao Paulo metro the biblical origin seems appropriate.

Another wrong stop will put you in Anhangabau, one of the many areas given indigenous names.  It’s a lovely place to be, but you may want call on the patron saint of lost causes to get you home.

Another spiritual option is to take the advanced yoga line to Liberation (Liberdade).  However, as yogis know, this is a long trip and it takes years of practice to get your body and spirit there at the same time.

 

The Museum

MASP, Museum of Art of Sao Paulo, this day had an exhibition of “French Art: From Delalcroix to Cezanne.”  What was unique about it is that it was based on the collection from MASP and not a compilation of pieces from other museums and collections.

From this exhibition format you could clearly see that MASP started late in acquiring art work.  What was unusual was the way the exhibition documented the process and politics of that acquisition period.

The museum opened its documents from the period of acquisition (beginning after World War II and running headlong into the art markets during the 1950s).  They displayed letters to and from art dealers, lists of contributors for some of the acquisitions, and even the letter of one representative insisting that they would buy a fairly insignificant Manet (a vanity portrait of a lion hunter) if they were given access to more interesting work by other French artists.

One name was prominent above all others — Assis Chateaubriand.  He was the benefactor and a major founder of MASP.  He became what they like to call a “media mogul” in the 1950s and for two or three decades was the most powerful owner of media in the country.  He is understood to have been a pivotal force in bringing television to Brazilian.

In the period just after World War II much European art was relatively available as Europe entered its recovery.  Chateaubriand was able to lead acquisition efforts through various agencies (notably an art dealer named Knoedel in New York).  He began to populate the new museum with art pieces by major French impressionists and others.  As a powerful force in media and politics, Chateaubriand was also able to get contributions from other wealthy Brazilians.  There are legends about how he used his information and media power to encourage other wealthy Brazilians and public figures to contribute to his art projects.

Documents from the files of MASP show the correspondence of the museum’s agents with art dealers.  They give insight into the acquisition struggle and even list, for some pieces, the amount of money each contributor gave.

Chateaubriand was by far the greatest contributor.

His alleged media hegemony continued until about 1960, after which his health failed, and his dissipating media empire was replaced by the current media giant O Globo.

The unusual format of the exhibition had some other surprises.

There are richer collections of Renoir in other museums, but one piece in this collection has a unique and sad story.

“Pink and Blue” – the Cohen Sisters of d’Anvers, 1881 is a shimmering, luminous, dual portrait. The two Cohen sisters are shown standing in sparkling dresses, one in pink and the other in blue.  Alongside the painting is a transport list to Auschwitz showing the name of one of the Cohen sisters (the one in blue). There was no record of her being seen again.

According to the story, the list was given to Renoir by the niece of the girl in blue, perhaps the daughter of the younger girl on the left.

"Pink and Blue" from 1881 by Renoir is of the Cohen Sisters of d'Anvers. Next to the painting is a transport list from France to Auschwitz showing the name of the sister on the right who was lost in the Holocaust.
“Pink and Blue” from 1881 by Renoir is of the Cohen Sisters of d’Anvers. Next to the painting is a transport list from France to Auschwitz showing the name of the girl on the right who was lost in the Holocaust.

In another setting there is a letter from an agent of Chateaubriand agreeing to buy a minor Manet (a portrait of a thuggish man with a large gun and a dead lion – probably painted as a vanity portrait).   The letter clarifies that they are willing to buy this dullish piece only to insist on buying the better pieces of the dealer – by Braque and others.

Modigliani and Rivera.  The display had other unusual documentation —  such as a letter from Diego Rivera describing his portrait session with Modigliani.

Many international artists visited Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo in Mexico City during the peak of their artistic and political influence.  At some point in this period they were leaders in the Mexican left and friends of the Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky who was in exile from Russia.  There are several films and books about this period that are based on their relationship with Trotsky (which lasted until 1940 when Trotsky was killed by a Stalinist assassin (in Coyoacan, now a suburb of Mexico City).

The relationship of Rivera and Frida Kalho with these political events made them a major attraction for artists and celebrities from abroad.  Modigliani was one of the visitors and he made an unusual portrait of Rivera that is in the collection of MASP in Sao Paulo

 

An easily recognizable Modigliani in this portrait of Lunia Czeccwska (perhaps Czechowska), 1918
An easily recognizable Modigliani in this portrait of Lunia Czeccwska (perhaps Czechowska), 1918

 

A not-so-easily Modigliani portrait of Diego Rivera. The MASP exhibit includes a letter of Rivera describing the portrait session.
Modigliani’s portrait of Diego Rivera is much different from his earlier style.  The MASP exhibit includes a letter from Rivera describing the portrait session

 

Cezanne and the American abolitionists.  In the late 1860s Cezanne painted a picture of a black slave leaning on a white object that evokes a bale of cotton.  Nearby the museum was displayed an image from 1863 in the United States — a famous photo by McPherson & Oliver of a “slave with scourged back.”  The photo appeared in Harper’s magazine depicting a man known as “Gordon” with a brutally scarred back.  The photo became an important visual image in the fight against slavery in the United States and was widely circulated in Europe.

Cezanne almost certainly knew of the McPherson & Oliver photo it is plausible that he used it as inspiration for his painting.

Just for reference:

Brazil abolished slavery in 1888 (25 years after the U.S.)

The American Emancipation Proclamation was 1863. The  following year brought the 13th Constitutional amendment which formally institutionalized the abolition of slavery.

Serfdom was abolished in Russia in 1861

A day of free admission brings an large and diverse crowd to the museum.  This was one of those days and the museum was crowded with young students in uniforms identifying their schools. One group of about ten young people recognized that I was probably not from around there and gathered around me, wondering if I would speak English with them. They were a bit disappointed to find out that Simone was from Sao Paulo and that I spoke Portuguese (more or less).  To appease their disappointment, I spoke “real” English with them for a few minutes until their teacher ushered them along to the next Manet (the dull one with the lion hunter, I think).

I often marvel at the openness and friendliness of Brazilians and wonder if a similar group of American students would chase down a foreigner in a museum to just try their language skills.

We have even had this experience in the market where a man and woman stopped us to tell us that we were an “interesting couple” and wondered where we were from — again being curious about a tall gringo and a Paulistana (woman from Sao Paulo) wandering about buying mangoes, squeezing papayas, and looking for tofu (see earlier post).

The experience with Brazilian students reminds me of my years traveling in the former East Germany, just at the time it ceased to be the socialist German Democratic Republic and became part of unified Germany. Travel was open by 1992/1993, but it was still a novelty to find an American “class enemy” wandering around. It was even stranger to them to find one who spoke German.  Even though the East Germans could see American television series that were syndicated and broadcast from West Germany, their second language was usually Russian and not English.  So actually talking to an American was a novelty.

Since I was sponsored by the Fulbright Foundation and gave a number of lectures and talks around Germany, I was a bit of a curiosity. In the East German case they were not at all sure they could talk to me — open discussion was not the norm even among good friends and family because the society was penetrated by thousands upon thousands of informants.  When I asked one group of schoolteachers why they were so reserved around me,  one told me I was like a person from Mars. They had heard for years about the militarist, fascist, West and they were surprised that I seemed so, well, normal.  Finding such a person walking around loose was unusual for them — just as I apparently was to the Brazilian school kids.