In 1905, George Santayana wrote that “Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.” In the 1970s, historian Russell Jacoby reexamined the American reluctance and rejection of remembering, and learning from, past events, calling it “social amnesia.” His 1975 book suggests “ … society has lost its memory, and with it, its mind. The inability or refusal to think back takes its toll in the inability to think.”
Artist Vincent Valdez (https://www.vincentvaldezstudio.com/), whose exhibit at Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art (Mass MOCA) in North Adams, runs through early April, has taken up the challenge of “social amnesia” with art inspired by historical and current events. He creates hard-edged, visceral images which some consider “provocative,” but which speak deeply of his American experience trying to “depict what I witness.” His work illustrates some of the contradictions in American life while holding out hope that a deeper knowledge of our past will push us towards making America “the dream it used to be.”
The museum is a vast complex of former mill buildings with spacious galleries that are perfect for large canvases and installations. Echoing Diego Rivera’s large works, Valdez has worked on public murals in San Antonio, Texas since he was 9 years old! Here, some of the pieces are nearly overwhelming in their size and content, including one that welcomes visitors to the exhibit, titled “The Beginning Is Near, An American Trilogy: Ch. 1.”
The canvas stands 7-feet-tall and extends 30 feet across the opposite wall. Fourteen figures in Ku Klux Klan robes and pointed hoods unnervingly stare at the observer. It’s easy to assume that it illustrates a brutal moment in the Klan’s sordid history. But Valdez places the figures, alive and well, in our modern era: one holds a cell phone, another a hooded baby wearing recent Nike sneakers, while headlights from a late-model pickup illuminate the scene.
It immediately brought to my mind the final notes from the movie “Nuremberg.” They explain that a central figure became unpopular after the trials because he maintained that there were others in American society just as capable of creating the Holocaust as the “monsters” convicted of the crimes. Valdez’s image testifies to the violent racist streak running through our history, from slavery and Reconstruction to the scourge of thousands of lynchings in the early 1900s (partially inspiring another series of exhibited paintings) and the neo-Nazis proudly marching in Charlottesville and elsewhere. This American hate is not a thing of the past, but a powerful force in modern America.
But as stark as the image is, Denise Markonish, co-curator of the exhibit, writes that “His career is not built out of pure pessimism.” Chs. 2 and 3 of “An American Trilogy” showcase the strength and resilience of our brilliant tapestry of Americans. In “Ch. 2: Dream, Baby, Dream,” Valdez presents multiple images of mourners at the funeral of Muhammad Ali in 2016. For me, and I imagine for Valdez, their diversity is celebratory, testimony to a bombastic and boastful boy from Louisville who grew into an international leader by reaching out to people of all ethnicities, backgrounds, and religions. Together, they are images of a unified and triumphant America when we put aside the hate and violence that have run a parallel course with our aspirations for equality and justice.
The breadth of Valdez’ subject matter (boxers, Oliver North and Michael Jordan, the 1943 “Zoot Suit Riots,” the loss of a childhood friend to PTSD from the war in Iraq, recent presidents, etc.) is matched by his embrace of diverse media, including drawings and paintings, video, audio, and one astounding example of a mural painted on every surface of an iconic vehicle: a restored 1953 Good Humor ice cream truck that tells the story of the broken promises, seizure, and destruction of the largest Latin community in the US at the time to construct Dodger Stadium at Chavez Ravine in 1962. (Legendary composer and guitarist Ry Cooder brought Valdez to Los Angeles in 2004 to tell him the story and memorialize the events.)
To be sure, Valdez’ exhibit is no walk in the park, no afternoon’s dabbling in high-brow analysis and critical snobbery. For Valdez, it is an effort to combat social amnesia, serving as “a call to action, to get up and speak up.” I guarantee the exhibit will inspire strong emotions. As Markonish writes, Valdez’ work “urges us to look unflinchingly at the triumph and tragedy of our deeply complex country.”
Allen Woods is a freelance writer, author of the Revolutionary-era historical fiction novel “The Sword and Scabbard,” and Greenfield resident. His column appears regularly on a Saturday. Comments are welcome here or at awoods2846@gmail.com.