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Lot Essay
If one were unaware of the personal or broader historical circumstances surrounding this painting in relation to Tamayo’s life or its connection to popular Mexican proverbs, it could potentially be viewed as a late Surrealist work. Rufino Tamayo truly appreciated Mexican popular ingenuity and believed in the infallible wisdom of its people as seen through the lens of traditional Mexican musings. “To construct castles in the air” is one of those colloquial expressions that refers to the all-too-familiar tendency among Mexicans to imagine fantastic situations regarding their own experiences; to construct stories out of sheer imagination that are somehow linked to a reality or that are in the end never realized. This is what Tamayo depicts in this unusual work. With sarcastic irony, but with elegant and somber colors the artist visually refers to a sense of disenchantment that arises from this adverse reality. Perhaps something of his own travails is also reflected in this painting.
The year this work was painted—1953—marked a successful year for Tamayo professionally. Nevertheless, this period also coincided with a series of disappointing and frustrating events which the artist evokes in this work. The first event relates to the end of Miguel Alemán’s presidency the previous year. Alemán tried to integrate Mexico into a capitalist economy for which the country was not prepared. The political consensus at the time revealed a collective frustration brought about by this unachieved goal. However, Tamayo enjoyed the rewards of being acknowledged as an important artist in Mexico, while internationally, considered a distinguished and influential figure in both art centers—New York and Paris. Nevertheless, his success also led to a series of frustrating and contradictory circumstances. In 1953, Tamayo was invited to paint a mural for the General Assembly of the United Nations Building in New York, a project that would remain unrealized due to the objections of some artists who blocked the proposal. “…Even though there was good will on both sides,” Tamayo noted, “we could not come to an agreement because we had problems with other artists.” Ultimately, even before a debate could take place regarding Tamayo’s supposed fee the commission was cancelled.
That same year, Tamayo completed two murals for the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City in the midst of widespread public criticism and a prevailing sense of bewilderment about the murals’ iconography. At the same time, Tamayo experienced a setback when the authorities at INBA (Instituto Nacional de Bellas Artes) decided not to publish a monograph of his work that had been promised and for which Tamayo had requested a text from the American art critic Henry McBride. Ultimately, Tamayo paid McBride with some watercolors. Another ambiguous episode arose when Tamayo received an invitation for a solo exhibition within the Mexican pavilion during the II São Paulo Biennial. Here again the artist found himself at the center of a controversy as INBA had proposed José Clemente Orozco’s participation. Tamayo’s gallery, Knoedler Gallery underwrote the shipping of Tamayo works for the event. And, despite the consensus of Brazilian and international art critics who considered Tamayo’s work one of the most original inclusions in the biennial, the artist shared the International First Prize for Painting with the French artist Alfred Manessier, a decision that was universally condemned.
However, perhaps the incident that affected Tamayo the most was what transpired during Christmas that year—a disagreement and break with members of the artist’s family, including his father, his half-brother and three nieces. This episode is narrated in Ingrid Suckaer’s book Rufino Tamayo, Aproximaciones, in which Suckaer briefly refers to the fact that despite the harmony and affection Tamayo established during his re-encounter with his family in Oaxaca, Olga tarnished and put an end to the relationship. Perhaps any one of these episodes in 1953 motivated the particular iconography and significance of this work. Executed with a palette similar to the murals at the Palacio de Bellas Artes, the painting represents an evocative nocturnal landscape wherein the horizon is divided by the three peaks undulating across a cloudy sky. The fantastic scene is illuminated by the cold light emanating from the full moon; a succession of five castles floats in the sphere, the distance between each perhaps suggesting that each “fantasy-castle” exists in different temporal realities. Some of these have long gone and dissolved in the distance, but nevertheless, their memory persists. Others are more recent and seem physically present. The architecture of these buildings is synthetic; the moon’s light allows us to appreciate the architecture of these buildings perfectly, and despite their volume, they float weightlessly and inevitably fade into thin air. Tamayo’s exquisite use of color and his peculiar composition can be compared to René Magritte’s disconcerting surreal landscapes or Paul Delvaux’s rarefied atmospheres. Perhaps, no other painting in the history of Mexican art has expressed with such absolute intention and refined humor, what it feels like to be utterly exasperated.
Juan Carlos Pereda, Mexico City, 2018
The year this work was painted—1953—marked a successful year for Tamayo professionally. Nevertheless, this period also coincided with a series of disappointing and frustrating events which the artist evokes in this work. The first event relates to the end of Miguel Alemán’s presidency the previous year. Alemán tried to integrate Mexico into a capitalist economy for which the country was not prepared. The political consensus at the time revealed a collective frustration brought about by this unachieved goal. However, Tamayo enjoyed the rewards of being acknowledged as an important artist in Mexico, while internationally, considered a distinguished and influential figure in both art centers—New York and Paris. Nevertheless, his success also led to a series of frustrating and contradictory circumstances. In 1953, Tamayo was invited to paint a mural for the General Assembly of the United Nations Building in New York, a project that would remain unrealized due to the objections of some artists who blocked the proposal. “…Even though there was good will on both sides,” Tamayo noted, “we could not come to an agreement because we had problems with other artists.” Ultimately, even before a debate could take place regarding Tamayo’s supposed fee the commission was cancelled.
That same year, Tamayo completed two murals for the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City in the midst of widespread public criticism and a prevailing sense of bewilderment about the murals’ iconography. At the same time, Tamayo experienced a setback when the authorities at INBA (Instituto Nacional de Bellas Artes) decided not to publish a monograph of his work that had been promised and for which Tamayo had requested a text from the American art critic Henry McBride. Ultimately, Tamayo paid McBride with some watercolors. Another ambiguous episode arose when Tamayo received an invitation for a solo exhibition within the Mexican pavilion during the II São Paulo Biennial. Here again the artist found himself at the center of a controversy as INBA had proposed José Clemente Orozco’s participation. Tamayo’s gallery, Knoedler Gallery underwrote the shipping of Tamayo works for the event. And, despite the consensus of Brazilian and international art critics who considered Tamayo’s work one of the most original inclusions in the biennial, the artist shared the International First Prize for Painting with the French artist Alfred Manessier, a decision that was universally condemned.
However, perhaps the incident that affected Tamayo the most was what transpired during Christmas that year—a disagreement and break with members of the artist’s family, including his father, his half-brother and three nieces. This episode is narrated in Ingrid Suckaer’s book Rufino Tamayo, Aproximaciones, in which Suckaer briefly refers to the fact that despite the harmony and affection Tamayo established during his re-encounter with his family in Oaxaca, Olga tarnished and put an end to the relationship. Perhaps any one of these episodes in 1953 motivated the particular iconography and significance of this work. Executed with a palette similar to the murals at the Palacio de Bellas Artes, the painting represents an evocative nocturnal landscape wherein the horizon is divided by the three peaks undulating across a cloudy sky. The fantastic scene is illuminated by the cold light emanating from the full moon; a succession of five castles floats in the sphere, the distance between each perhaps suggesting that each “fantasy-castle” exists in different temporal realities. Some of these have long gone and dissolved in the distance, but nevertheless, their memory persists. Others are more recent and seem physically present. The architecture of these buildings is synthetic; the moon’s light allows us to appreciate the architecture of these buildings perfectly, and despite their volume, they float weightlessly and inevitably fade into thin air. Tamayo’s exquisite use of color and his peculiar composition can be compared to René Magritte’s disconcerting surreal landscapes or Paul Delvaux’s rarefied atmospheres. Perhaps, no other painting in the history of Mexican art has expressed with such absolute intention and refined humor, what it feels like to be utterly exasperated.
Juan Carlos Pereda, Mexico City, 2018