Art of Our Arrogance
As long ago as 1820, future Secretary of State Henry Clay opined: “It is in our power to create a system of which we shall be the center and in which all South America will act with us . . .” Seen up close, the letters that state Clay’s vision are nothing but unintelligible blips. The artist drives the viewer back–to a distance that reminds us of the distance that Washington is from Managua–and from afar Clay makes sense.
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“Born and bred to a comfortable middle-class life and educated at an exclusive eastern school,” as she’s described herself, Parada joined the Peace Corps in the 60s “for the sheer love of adventure.” She taught art in Bolivia. She came to a conclusion that many other volunteers also reached: “We were the velvet glove over the iron fist of U.S. foreign policy.”
It’s pretty compelling now. U.S. Democracy Over Central America: 1820-?, a huge installation we saw a year or two ago, positioned Central America on the floor by the door in such a way that viewers were obliged to step on it. Parada labeled each Marine landing in the region–all 23 of them (her source was the Marine booklet 180 Landings; The United States Marines 1800-1934). In Nicaragua, the Marines first landed in 1912 and left for good in 1933, a peasant uprising crushed and the country in the hands of Anastasio Somoza and his national guard.
Parada is boning up on a new subject for her art. It’s one we think promises a synthesis of the personal and political art she has made so far. It is our own revolution. The memory of which, she notes, is exploited to peddle everything from Dodge cars (“an American revolution”) to Sam Adams beer.
Rethinking Vietnam
We asked Healy if the conference reached a consensus on Vietnam. Somewhat, he said, and told us what mistakes he personally thought the United States had made.
