Why Diego Rivera is the Grant Wood of Mexico, or Vice Versa

As soon as I find someone who claims to have even passing knowledge of both Grant Wood and Diego Rivera, I’m going to make this bold statement: “You know, if you think about it, Grant Wood was really the Diego Rivera of the United States,” and see what comes out of it.

I will concede at the outset that this post will be written with the aid of hazily remembered facts and an imperfect understanding of the stylistic nuances of the visual arts (read: please don’t fact check this post). That being said, in quickly cobbling together the little that I know about the styles, eras, and politics of the two iconic painters, I think you’ll agree that the similarities are uncanny.

Where to start? Both were born in smallish, land-locked towns in the Western Hemisphere; Wood in Anamosa, IA and Rivera in Guanajuato, Guanajuato. Both began painting at a very early age and continued to study the arts through high school and college. Both went to Europe during the Impressionism craze and painted various impressionisty/cubistical looking pieces that hardly even resemble their more famous works. And for both Wood and Rivera, it was after being exposed to these colonial influences that both painters ended up finding their unique voices that, in many ways, were a reaction to and a rejection of these continental influences.

Rivera returned to Mexico and began to paint what he knew: the peasants, the indigenous peoples, farmers, laborers using bold, bright colors and simple figures. Wood returned, stepped out of his home near Iowa City, and began to paint scenes of farms and country folk performing everyday tasks using a similarly bright and bold color scheme on his canvasses, although usually with a tad more attention to detail.

And there’s more. They were also both ardent lefties. Rivera was an admirer of Emiliano Zapata, from whom the leftist Zapatista rebels (a group still active in the state of Chiapas) take their name, and a member of Mexico’s Communist party. Wood became close friend to Vice President and Iowan Henry A. Wallace, who ran unsuccessfully for President with the Progressive Party after being dropped by Roosevelt for being, get this, too liberal (and over-crazy). Wood even did Wallace’s portrait for a Time Magazine cover that appeared during his glory days. Both artists had successful academic careers teaching painting, Rivera at some University that I can’t remember, and Grant Wood at the University of Iowa.

Appropriate to their politics, both painters also played major roles in New Deal type policies. Rivera was chosen to lead various government funded mural projects when the government was looking to put people to work. Wood became the leader of several major public works art projects in the Midwest during the New Deal.

These appointments makes sense, as both men were proponents of murals as a more democratic form of art. Murals beautified cities and made art part of the landscape of one’s everyday world. They were also major projects and called for the work of many men to complete. Rivera has his murals at, among other places, the Palacio Nacional in Mexico City; Wood has his at, among other places, the Iowa State University Library.

Possibly the most striking similarities between the two mural-painting, revolutionary-loving, farmer-depicting lefties, was their philosophy about painting and art. Rivera revolted against all things colonial: customs, religion, class, cruelty, etc. Wood too revolted, but it was against a different kind of colonialism. He revolted against a blind acceptance of the artistic forms, subjects, and styles that had filtered from the cultural centers in Europe, through the East Coast of the States, eventually to be adopted by the heartland as not just fine art, but the finest art.

In his manifesto Revolution and the City, Wood called this kind of trickle down capacity for artistic creation or appreciation “Cultural Colonialism.” That’s right, the man wrote manifestos. And some critics refer to him and his work as quaint. Quaint people don’t spend sweaty nights pumping out manifestos. Wood took on the art establishment and he won. His victories might have been short lived, but they were on his terms. And at the time, this was revolutionary. To think, a painter in Iowa could step outside of his home, paint the land and his neighbors, and call it Art. The gall.

Of course, of the two, Rivera is viewed as the more revolutionary, probably because 1) he was a communist who participated in Communist revolutions; and 2) he was more overt in his critiques of religion, which always tends to get a rise out of the faithful. Case in point: one of the murals at the Palacio Nacional features a Priest with a bottle of liquor in one hand and a prostitute’s arse in the other. Then again, I still think there is a strong argument that American Gothic actually is a subtle critic on religion and conformity.

But let’s not stray to much from the thesis. When you get down to the heart of the matter, the two aren’t that different. They were both anti-colonialist skeptics who celebrated the simple beauty of the worlds that surrounded them. Revolutionaries both, through and through.

Viva Rivera! Viva Wood! Viva La Revolution!

Diego Rivera: 1886-1957
Grant Wood: 1892-1942

If You Can't Beat 'Em, Eat 'Em

I couldn't help passing on this article, which a lot of people have probably seen because it was posted on the Druge Report today. It's about the idea of eating nutritious insects as an alternative source of protein. Though I was aware the practice is widespread in many parts of the world, it seems like with the right kind of marketing campaign, insect-eating could really catch on in certain niche markets in America as well.

Here is my favorite little bit:

"As for pesticides, some experts have pointed out the irony of using chemicals to get rid of bugs that are more nutritious than the crops they prey on.

In Thailand when pesticides failed to control locusts, the government urged locals to eat them and distributed recipes."

In essence, Thailand adopted the, "if you can't beat 'em, eat 'em," approach. Take notes rest of world, because this is creative problem solving at its finest.

Maybe one day we'll just have a couple token crops in a field to lure in all those tasty bugs. Come harvest time, we'll kill off the few worthless, bug-damaged plants, leaving a large bounty of delicious critters to harvest and devour. Something to think about.

Some Thoughts That May or May Not Concern Mexico City

On the whole, I find travel stories to be boring and self-indulgent (calm down, I’ve been witness to 100’s of exceptions). This being the case, I’ll try to make it quick.

The Flight:

If I fly a million times in my life, I doubt I will ever tire of looking out the little double-paned window during take-offs and landings. The matchbox-sized cars pulsating through the main arteries of the city, the personal pools dotting the suburbs, the grid-like organization, the verdant parks and the symmetric and well-manicured baseball fields, I love it all. Occasionally I see someone with a window seat reading a magazine. Invariably, he looks exceptionally cool and seasoned. I, on the other hand, have my face pressed, 6 year-old-like, firmly against the pane for 10 minutes straight, admiring the millions of hours of human blood, sweat, and blueprints that brought us the modern day metropolis. Impressive.

Flying in to Mexico City was no exception. Its size is mind-numbing, and there were plenty of cool streets, buildings, and smog to keep a spectating passenger occupied while landing. And the best part of its massive size, as the Museum of Mexico City points out in its permanent exhibit about the city, is that “it all fits in a basin.”

Ha! Humor in museums? I love Mexico already.

The Hostel:

I think a great idea for a reality show would involve filming the revolving cast of characters that occupy the cockroach infested rooms of international hostels. German loners, American middle-school teachers, New Zealand surfers, British students, Canadian skateboarders (all of whom were present at Hostel Amigo) under one roof, reading their enormous, eco-political books, swapping travel stories and getting wasted on alcohol and diarrhea while the cameras captured it all.

Obviously, turnover would be a problem. So by the end of the show you’d have a catalogue of some 5000 plus characters. But given Altman-like direction and an audience open to the idea of a different kind of character development, it just might work.

As for my hostel, I couldn’t complain. Seven dollars for a room, breakfast, dinner, free internet and a pool table. Also included, free of charge, was the late night music. The music, apparently DJ'd by Donald Rumsefeld, was played just loud enough to shake the floors and make sleep impossible, but not loud enough to physically hurt you.

The Diego Rivera Murals in Mexico City:

One of the more impressive murals in the Palacio Nacional depicts a jumbled mass of over 2000 people, many of them historical figures. That’s 2000 individual faces, painstakingly painted.

And thank God I found a guide. Sure, I could have seen the murals by myself. I even would have appreciated them. But having a guide explain the history behind the images was fantastic. I think there’s part of our brain, probably from being read to as children, that craves to have pictures explained and described. “The running goat is happy,” says my mother, pointing to the image. And sure enough, there is a goat. And he’s running. AND he’s happy! To a child, the descriptive power of language is almost like a magic trick.

I think that’s kind of how I felt looking at the murals in Mexico City. Our guide would explain the way in which the Aztecs collected taxes, and sure enough we’d look up and see the whole scene it being elaborately played out in a historic, pastel snapshot 10 feet tall.

Somebody’s Got a Case of the Mondays

In Mexico City, all parks, museums, and zoos are closed on Monday just ‘cause. Make sure you take advantage of this day to ride aimlessly on the metro or wander around markets.

The Bus to Guanajuato

I can say, without the slightest bit of hesitation, that the bus from Mexico City to Guanajuato was the nicest bus I have ever had the privilege to step foot on. Though my previous experiences are limited to school buses (three to a seat!) and greyhounds (vagrant-drug-sex in the back row!), I have a hard time even imagining a bus more comfortable than the one provided by ETN. I officially support ETN buses.

Stay tuned for news from beautiful Guanajuato.

Basic Economics of Flying 101

I feel like some of my greatest contributions to civil society are made on the airplane.

During boarding, the typical passenger is unpacking his things or distractedly reading through a People Magazine and doing his best to relax. I, on the other hand, am anything but relaxed. I know that something is wrong. I can sense it. And I'll be damned if I'm going to just sit back and do nothing.

I am perfectly still in my seat and my senses have kicked into high gear. Like an unseen tiger stalking his prey from the dark jungle, I am watching and waiting for my opportunity.

Suddenly I see it. A man 3 rows up is making motions to a woman seated next to me. His voice is barely audible, but he begins to mouth some words. "Do you think we can find someone to switch with us?" he says. I see fear in his eyes. He is weak-willed and confused. Perhaps he and his significant other are wearing matching outfits. I've seen enough.

I heroically jump into action, nearly tripping over myself to be the first to the rescue. "I will be the man to make that sacrifice," I say in a booming voice, rising from my seat, basking in the awe of my fellow passengers. We make the switch, exchanging pleasantries, and I accept the couple's gushing gratitude with a quick, self-deprecating wave of my hand. The Iowan in me has diverted disaster once again.

Do I ask for the same selflessness out of others? Never. Nor would I expect others to offer it up gratuitously. Not only do I feel perfectly comfortable spending two hours on my own in the big, bad airplane, but the risk of awkward rejection usually prevents me from acting.

That being said, my flight to Phoenix was a real eye opener. Let me set the scene.

I am seated about 5 rows ahead of my girlfriend. There are three people in my row. In fact, there appear to be three people in every row on the plane except one: my girlfriend's row. She is seated next to the window and another woman is seated in an aisle seat, leaving an open seat in between them.

Perfect, I think. I won't even have to ask anyone to move in order to take the open seat. As it becomes clear that no one else will be boarding, I rise and begin to make my way back to the open seat. Emily, out of courtesy, says to the woman in the aisle seat, "Do you mind if my boyfriend sits here?" The woman, who, it should be emphasized, has not been asked to sacrifice her seat, simply rolls her eyes and looks the other direction. Though this is done without my knowledge, Emily whispers it into my ear during the flight.

Part of me wishes she hadn't told me this en route. It made the rest of the flight vaguely awkward and it forced me to spend a significant amount of time thinking about the ethics behind our behavior. Does this woman have a claim? Surely she didn't purchase the seat in between her and Emily did she? Was there a husband (perhaps tired of her standoffishness) who failed to show? Possible, but unlikely. And if that was the case, why not say something?

For a moment, I try to empathize with her. She had something of value, a buffer seat in between her and a stranger. Now she does not. So in a sense, she has a right to be a little indignant. This is assuming of course that we think of the buffer seat as being "her's" to begin with. Regardless, I think her behavior is extremely short-sighted. She would do well to look at the big picture.

Though she may have lost something of value, someone else further up the plane has gained something of equal value when I got up. In fact, since I was also in a middle seat, the open seat that I left actually conferred a benefit upon two people. So already we have a net gain of 1 unit of happiness/comfort.

But of course, the equation doesn't stop there. The happiness that I will derive from being next to my girlfriend who is super awesome and makes me laugh a lot also has value. There's another unit of happiness. Emily, will also derive happiness from the transaction, but the quantity of happiness will be less than me for two reasons: 1) I am not as cool as her 2) She had a buffer seat and now does not have a buffer seat. Let's say she gets 1/2 of what I get out of the deal. In all 5 people are affected by the transaction. Here's the rough calculus:

Happiness of woman who lost buffer seat: -1
Happiness of woman who gained buffer seat: +1
Happiness of woman 2 who gained a buffer seat: +1
Nick's happiness: +1
Emily's happiness: +1/2

Net gain of happiness: 2 1/2

Invisible hand anyone? Sure my initial act was selfish, but look at all the excess happiness that one act of selfishness generated. Invisible or not, does this woman sitting next to me really not see this equation?

And in reality, my estimate of a simple 2.5 u/h gain is, if anything, conservative. For example, with all that surplus happiness floating around in the fuselage, it's pretty likely to cheer up the flight attendants. A couple extra smiles here, a couple extra thank yous there. You get the picture. The flight attendants interact with the captain (I think), which means he/she might be happier too. A happier captain means a less depressed captain, which means less chance of the captain flying off the handle and dive-bombing into a Kansas cornfield.

As is clearly illustrated above, I simply cannot overstate the amount of people that could stand to gain from this move.

Like I said, I empathize with her plight. Without the proper safety nets in place to ease her suffering (passenger subsidized pillows, on board nurse, entertainment, food, a place to sit), the invisible hand stops being just invisible and begins to disappear altogether. But in my situation, when the happiness of the entire plane is taken into account, and the safety nets are in place, switching seats is undeniably the best way to go.

I think about explaining these numbers to her but don't want the rest of the flight to be more awkward than it already is. As a concession to my own ego, I resolve to make my calculations known to her in the event that we begin plummeting to our deaths.

Though part of me is quietly hoping for a mid-flight disaster, so that I can give this woman a pre-death lecture on civility and collective happiness, we land without incident. And I think of how sad it is that she will think it was a horrible flight. She might even start lobbying her local carrier to prohibit this type of activity, ultimately affecting all flight passengers, possibly even herself, in all sorts of adverse ways in the future.

And if you just listened to her side of the story, you'd never believe that from the time that flight took off to the time it landed, that very same flight she thought was so horrible had actually experienced a huge 2.5 unit surge in happiness. And what's more? It was all due to the selfish, happiness-generating acts of one humble person.

Is there any flight I can't make happy?

And Then There Were Two

I'm aware that this story is a little dated, but I thought that it was noteworthy that, after Bruce Braley (UI Law alum) endorsed Obama several days ago, there are now only two Iowa superdelegates left to make a decision.

According to Congresspedia, the score is currently 6-3. Here's the breakdown:

Obama: Congressman Dave Loebsack, Congressman Bruce Braley, Governor Chet Culver, Treasurer Michael Fitzgerald, DNC Member Richard Machacek, Deputy Chair of the Iowa Democratic Party Sarah Swisher

Clinton: Congressman Leonard Boswell, Iowa Senate Majority Leader Michael Gronstal, DNC member Sandy Opstvedt

Undecided: Senator Tom Harkin, Iowa Democratic Party Chair Scott Brennan.

And Another Fun fact from Congresspedia I stumbled upon:

Obama has contributed $10,000 to Tom Harkin's campaign in an effort to woo him, while Clinton has donated a measly $25.

Twenty five dollars!? Is she Harkin's grandma?

"Hey Tom, here's 16 bucks I collected from some of my staff. A couple of the fives are soggy but if you lay them out to dry they should be all right. Anyway, hope everything's ok. Vote Hillary!"

This is getting embarrassing.

I Bet I'm Celebrating Law Day Harder Than You Are

It's that time of year again. The one time of year when we set aside all of our differences, get together with our friends and family, exchange heartfelt gifts, and give the Lord our humblest thanks for all the Law he has given us.

Happy Law Day to all!

When I was young we used to go around the table taking turns saying which Law we were most thankful for that year. Mine was always a tie between the Laws that stopped people from unlawfully taking my property and the ones that stopped people from murdering me. My mother made us do this so we would never forget how truly lucky we were to be living in a country with such a bounty of Laws. I hope that each and every one of you takes a moment out of your day today to appreciate this truly special day.

Though our family has trouble getting together like we used to, I decided to do a little celebration of my own. This year I celebrated, like most Americans, by attempting to master an entire area of law (Evidence) in a single day; and by compiling long lists of questions for our state's legal experts at the Boyd Law Building. It truly was a treat and reminded me once again of how lucky we are to be in a place that recognizes an important holiday like Law Day.

Go Hawks: Our Health Care System is Probably Less Bad Than Yours

I was pleased to read a couple of days ago in the Daily Iowan that Iowa ranks third in the nation for the percentage of its population with health insurance. All told, we manage to get around 91% of our population insured. Though I'm of the opinion that the system is flawed, and this ad hoc, for-profit system is just an ill-fitting band-aid until we get real comprehensive health care reform, it's nice to know that we have one of the best quality ill-fitting band-aids around.

Who's number one? A different study conducted last year by the Commonwealth Fund, a private foundation focused on health care, came out with this ranking:

1. Hawaii

2. Iowa

3. New Hampshire

4. Vermont

5. Maine

The bottom five were Nevada, Arkansas, Texas, Mississippi, and Oklahoma.

For more on the study, including what kind of indicators that were used (access, quality, cost, etc) check out this CBS news article.

Go Hawks.