Art Review; 'Poster' Flexes Political Muscle; An exhibition of Chicano graphic arts vividly demonstrates the effective fusion of art, advertising and potent message.
The Los Angeles Times; Los Angeles, Calif.; Feb 9, 2001; David Pagel

In the popular imagination, politicians and advertising agents rank right up there with lawyers and used-car salesmen as people who make a living by deceiving the rest of us. More often than not, contemporary artists are treated with equal suspicion: as charlatans who can't be trusted, much less respected.

"Just Another Poster?: Chicano Graphic Arts in California" turns these and other stereotypes inside out. Vividly demonstrating that art and politics can be fused--and that art and advertising are not always enemies--this terrific survey of more than 100 images printed over the last 35 years by 56 artists is a testament to the power of standing up and being counted, especially when your convictions fly in the face of the powers that be.

Its diverse works are inspiring instances of democracy in action: unruly, unresolved and wide open to further argument. By turns celebratory and scathing, playful and pointed, each begins with the belief that if you don't think for yourself, someone else will. If you think that's reassuring, think again. Not only is it frightening, it's frighteningly un-American.

The first work you see at Santa Barbara's University Art Museum is a blotchy field of orange, gold, pink and green smudges, across which is printed, "This Is Just Another Poster." In the split-second it takes to read the blurry, silhouetted letters, you're already doubting, very deeply, the truthfulness of the words.

As your brain whirls through its memory bank to find a place for the dubious message, you realize that the poster resembles an optometrist's test for depth-of-field perception. Its wispy letters create the impression that you're seeing double or are very drunk. Blinking doesn't clear your vision so you move in for a closer look.

Then you notice the next set of words, in faint cursive script, "Boycott Coors" and "Boycott Gallo." With a sobering jolt, this clears up your confusion. Far from being "just another poster," this one stands out from the visual glut of our image-saturated world because it turns the tables on corporate advertising.
Made by Louie "The Foot" Gonzales in 1976 to protest alleged discriminatory hiring practices at Coors and to support the efforts of the United Farm Workers, the poster entered the political fray during the heyday of subliminal advertising. At one level, it is a hilarious send-up of the ill-fated practice of slipping sexy, barely perceptible images into ads, supposedly making their messages irresistible--at least subconsciously. At another level, his low- budget, tongue-in-cheek attempt to hoodwink consumers embodies the absurd disparity between the resources available to big businesses and those at the disposal of an individual artist. David and Goliath were more evenly matched.

A team of seven curators and essayists (Holly J. Barnet, Salvador Gueren~ a, George Lipsitz, Chon Noriega, Rafael Perez-Torres, Tere Romo and Carol Wells) and three curatorial assistants (Dulce Aldama, Judith Huacuja Pearson and C. Ondine Chavoya) organized the exhibition. Ordinarily, such a high curator-to-artist ratio results in muddled, compromise-riddled shows, the emphasis tipping away from the workers and toward management. "Just Another Poster?" does nothing of the sort.

The 12 thematic sections into which its generally excellent works have been grouped are sensible. Free of the academic excesses that sometimes encumber politically motivated art, the categories (political action, immigration, international solidarity, calendars, Day of the Dead, etc.) provide just the right amount of background information. The posters are thrust into the foreground, where they speak with pride, defiance and verve--often in the face of daunting opposition.

Chicano poster art began in 1965 with the production of images that supported the United Farm Workers. Conceived by Cesar Chavez, the UFW logo--a stylized black eagle with wings shaped like an inverted Aztec pyramid--appears in many shapes, sizes, and styles, most notably in mass-produced prints from the 1960s and 1970s by Andrew Zermen~o, Armando Cabrera, Max Garcia, Richard Favela and several anonymous artists.

The urgency of these works' messages is matched by their crisp, simplified imagery, in which complex issues are compressed into arresting forms that can be read in an instant. Designed to galvanize belief and incite action, they do their work admirably.

Half of the images displayed were made in the 1970s, suggesting that this was the medium's high point. Many of these, which include increasingly complex designs and ingeniously simplified graphics, advertise Chicano art exhibitions, poetry readings, music festivals, plays and parties. Standouts include Leonard Castellanos' "Rifa," Rodolfo Cuellar's "Humor in Xhicano [sic] Arte" and Yreina Cervantez's "Raza Women in the Arts."

Political action remains a constant source of artistic inspiration, spreading from the support of strikes and boycotts to consciousness raising. In Mario Torero's 'You Are Not a Minority!" Che Guevara points his finger like Uncle Sam in Montgomery Flagg's famous recruiting poster from World War I. In Yolanda Lopez's "Who's the illegal alien, Pilgrim?" a muscular Aztec prince strikes the same pose.

A good number of the most visually captivating posters link indigenous struggles to liberation movements across the globe. Rupert Garcia's "Get Out of Indochina!" boils an emotionally loaded issue down to its concentrated core. On a black ground, a brown face emerges above the words, screaming in anguish or defiance. If posters can be masterpieces, this one is as fine an example as any.

Solidarity with peoples' struggles in Vietnam, Puerto Rico, Chile, Argentina, Nicaragua, El Salvador and Israel is given sophisticated form in works by Malaquias Montoya, Linda Lucero, Juan Fuentes, Herbert Siguenza and Ester Hernandez.

Barbed wire is a recurrent motif, its spike-punctuated strands amplifying the impact of graphic imagery while efficiently symbolizing various forms of oppression. Other loaded symbols include a silver and black version of the Statue of Liberty holding a meat cleaver and an inverted U.S. flag ablaze with hot-rod flames.

The least compelling sections are the last two. One consists of seven self-portraits from the 1980s and 1990s. Lacking the urgency of the other works, these look wan and inaccessible. No matter how talented an artist may be, the intimacy of portraiture is at odds with the public nature of posters.
The final section, "Why the Poster?," is redundant. Its 12 often strong works easily fit into other categories. More important, the question the curators ask here has already been answered by the show as a whole, in which art, advertising and politics combine to make sparks fly.