By Victor Margolin

University of Illinois, Chicago

The question of identity and how it is expressed is a central theme of contemporary cultural studies. This theme is particularly important in the case of nation states such as Mexico where there has been extensive emigration and whose current citizens, former citizens, and descendants of both continue to make reference to their homeland as part of their identity even though they are situated elsewhere. Such references appear in various forms ranging from neighborhood political organizations to art, theater, music, and literature. Less recognized as expressions of cultural identity are the street graphics that one finds in every large metropolis where Mexicans live. These range in type from murals and posters to shop signs, and restaurant facades. Although largely overlooked by cultural theorists, except for the murals, street graphics in their multifarious forms tell us a great deal about how ethnic and national identities are sustained in a multicultural society. This is particularly evident in Chicago. The multitude of graphic forms ranging from large wall murals to restaurant signs in the city's Mexican neighborhoods represent no singular position as to how Mexicanidad is expressed; rather they point to multiple positions some of which even appear to conflict with each other.

Today Mexicans and Mexican-Americans comprise a significant percentage of the population in the city of Chicago and its suburbs.Their presence can be traced back at least as far as 1916 when 206 Mexicans were recruited to work on the city's railroads. Originally these immigrants settled in neighborhoods near their places of work which included, besides the railroads, the steel industry as well. By the beginning of World War I, Mexicans in Chicago seemed to be following a pattern of assimilation similar to other immigrant groups. But the roundup of illegal aliens in 1954, known as "Operation Wetback" made it clear that Mexicans and Mexican-Americans needed to organize to protect their interests.

During the 1950s, the West Side neighborhood known as Pilsen, which ranges from 18th St. on the northern end to 26th St. on the south, became the center of Mexican life in Chicago. It was the first neighborhood where organizations that focused specifically on Mexican concerns were formed and it has become today a center of Mexican visual cultural expression, particularly through the many street murals. Pilsen consists of two separate areas, one that extends along 18th St. (La Dieciocho) which is called Pilsen proper and another to the west which extends along 26th St. and is known as Little Village. In this essay I will refer to both as Pilsen. Mexicans also occupy other areas of the city, notably part of the Ashland Ave. corridor north of Pilsen as well as sections of Milwaukee Ave., a large thoroughfare that cuts diagonally across the city.

The wall murals in Pilsen have their origin in the Chicano movement of the 1960s, which was the impetus for a wave of social murals that represented the concerns of Mexicans. These were painted in a number of cities in the United States. Chicagoans participated in this movement but it was most strongly expressed in California where a central rallying point was the drive led by César Chávez to improve the working conditions of the many Mexican braceros who picked vegetables on the large farms. At this time the wall mural emerged as a powerful form of Mexican- American cultural expression. Chicago was actually one of the original centers for mural painting in the 1960s although many more murals were done on the west coast, particularly in Los Angeles. In some cases they depicted contemporary situations while in others symbols such as the La Raza logo or the Mexican flag were used as signs of empowerment. Sometimes images for these murals were taken directly from the wall paintings of the Mexican muralistas of the 1930s.

Today we can still see a number of murals in Pilsen, inspired by the Mexican muralistas as well as the Chicano mural movement of the 1960s. One of them establishes a lineage of liberation that extends from Cuauhtémoc through Benito Juárez to Emiliano Zapata following the nation-building strategy of the Mexican government in the 1920s and 1930s in which there was an attempt to unite the Aztec resistance to the conquistadores with the reform movement of Juarez and the leadership of Zapata during the Revolution. This mural does not create that historical lineage as a new concept of Mexicanidad but rather appropriates a use of history that was invented in Mexico during the 1920s and 1930s to create a continuity of national culture. Also, unlike the work of the original muralistas whose murals were commissioned for public buildings, those in Pilsen were and are frequently painted on private property that can be bought and sold. Another public mural features Benito Juárez, but he becomes the backdrop for a new business enterprise. The particular building on which this mural is painted is located between the two most intense centers of Mexican population in Pilsen and may well have been taken over by an Anglo enterprise. In any case, the new owners failed to understand the cultural implications of covering the mural with an announcement of goods for sale.

Since the early 1960s when Chicano artists began to use a wide variety of motifs that originated in Mexican culture, the direct borrowing and adaptation of Mexican symbols has been an important means of expressing cultural identity in the United States. This has not always been done with historical accuracy and in fact some of these symbols, taken out of their original cultural contexts, have become simply icons with generic meanings that are used for many different purposes. One symbol of identity that you see in Pilsen is the Mexican flag whose colors are used on restaurant and shop awnings. A good example is a women’s clothing store, La Coqueta Fashion. The mix of Spanish and English in this shop name is evident in other Pilsen graphics as well. Another awning that uses the colors of the flag is the Taqueria Palacio, a rather grand title for such a tiny storefront restaurant. In this case the colors are reversed in their sequence although there are no cues to determine whether these shop awnings should be read from top to bottom or vice versa. A use of the national colors without the flag is evident in the red and green letters of a sign for Cortes Ibanez, a store that sells a little of everything.

The Nopal Bakery on 26th St. has a different national symbol, the nopal cactus, set in stone right in the facade of the building. One sees in this case as well the bilingualism of the sign, "Bakery 'El Nopal': Pan de Hogar," which contrasts with the phrase that declares the inescapability of Mexican identity, "traes el nopal en la frente"( you carry the nopal on your forehead). I want to compare this appropriation of symbols from Mexican culture to express Mexicanidad in the United States with the way that American imagery is sometimes appropriated in Mexico. In Monterrey, for example, you can see in the markets images of American popular culture such as Batman and the Power Rangers who are produced as traditional paper piñata figures. You can also see other American images such as a blown up cartoon figure from Walt Disney's film Aladdin on the facade of a large carpet emporium with the same name.

A symbol that has become an icon used for many different purposes in Pilsen is the Calendar Stone which represents a cosmic scheme of the Aztecs. According to Mary Ellen Miller, "No single image of ancient Mesoamerica is better known than the great Calendar Stone: it is reproduced on ashtrays, keychains, liquor labels, and is popular both in and outside Mexico." One street mural in Pilsen depicts the stone combined with a group of figures who may have originated with the representations of Aztec gods in the Codex Borbonicus, the first manuscript of the early Colonial period. But this mural displays no attempt to imitate or reproduce an archeological site. Both calendar stone and god figures are set in a scenic mountainous landscape and the calendar is reproduced in strong colors instead of in a way that imitates stone. In another mural on 18th St., the calendar is incorporated into an image that recalls the American social murals of the 1930s. The theme is "Unidos para el Progreso" a slogan that also recalls the rhetoric of the 1930s in the United States, and the mural depicts the massive figures of American social realism (even though they are Mexicans) rather than the style of the muralistas. Here the calendar functions as an image of power to inspire the two figures to work hard to improve their situation in America. The calendar also serves as a kind of logotype on the wall of a Pilsen social service center. The purpose of the calendar stone image here is to declare that the service center is for people of the community, a significant factor in Chicago where all minorities have had to fight hard over the years to obtain social services from the city. The calendar is joined as a symbol of Mexican identity by a number of animals from Mexican folk culture including a bird that looks more like a turkey than an eagle.

I saw the calendar stone as well on a poster announcing a cultural performance that was set within the context of struggle. There it was joined with an image from a mural by David Alfredo Siqueros that depicted Francisco Madero and his supporters. The performers were from both Mexico and the United States which gave the calendar stone and the Siqueros image an additional meaning of solidarity between Mexicans and Mexican-Americans in the two countries. Just one or two blocks from where I found this poster, I located the Aztec calendar in the Nuevo Leon Restaurant where it is used as a form of generic decoration as it is in many Mexican restaurants. The Nuevo Leon calendar is made of wood but one can find it elsewhere made of other materials such as copper and plaster. In the Nuevo Leon it does not function explicitly as a commecial icon but rather as a means to establish a Mexican ambiance for the restaurant’s customers. In another example, a painted wall advertisement for Moreno's, a large liquor store, the calendar stone is combined with the eagle and serpent to declare the Mexican ownership of the enterprise. Here the imagery has nothing to do with what it is promoting and we can note how the store owner has made use not only of political and cultural symbols but also of the cultural form of the social murals, particularly the long painted wall that emulates their scale.

One of the most curious phenomena in the expression of Mexican identity both in Chicago and in Mexico is the continued circulation of an icon seen by many as a negative image - the sleeping Mexican - that reinforces stereotypes of lazy campesinos who sleep away the day oblivious to everything around them. Amidst the ongoing debate as to whether the figure represents submission or resistance, this image appears frequently in Chicago, notably on restaurant signs and even on food packaging. In Pilsen, I saw it side by side with the wall murals and it contributes to an extremely complex field of imagery that one can draw on in order to explore the representation of cultural identity in Chicago’s Mexican community.

I found the same sleeping figure as part of a logo for a small company run by Mexican-Americans that makes flour tortillas and saw it as well on a sign for the Hidalgo Restaurant, where the figure is playfully shown dreaming of tacos. Between the use of the sleeping Mexican and the images of Mexican national heroes on the Pilsen murals, there is a huge gap in awareness of how to represent Mexican identity in Pilsen. We can, however, contrast the sleeping Mexican with another figure, the charro, who is also used in Chicago to characterize a number of restaurants. As with the dreaming campesino who sleeps near the church, we see the charro, a property owner unlike the campesino, in his home environment. On one restaurant sign he is preparing to ride forth from his substantial hacienda.

Such symbols as the sleeping Mexican are regarded by many as a harmless form of kitsch and continue to circulate not only on restaurant and shop signs but also as small objects for the home to be found at flea markets in the United States and at street markets in Mexico. They were produced in occupied Japan just after World War II and circulated widely in the United States, particularly at a time when there was no American consciousness of Mexican cultural identity. We also see the same figure used in commercial displays in Mexico. I noticed a fairly large ceramic version in the window of a carnicería in Monterrey which raises even more questions about how this figure is understood by those who make use of it as a form of cultural representation.

One assertion of Mexicanidad that is widespread in Pilsen is the reference to particular towns or regions in Mexico. For the most part, Mexican restaurants in predominantly Anglo neighborhoods will have a generic Mexican identity rather than a specific one. But in Pilsen, not only restaurants but also markets, bakeries, and other stores refer to specific places in Mexico, usually a particular city or state. This may be for various reasons. Perhaps the owner comes from that place or perhaps what is sold in the establishment has a local character. Or, a name may have been adopted simply to create a public image or to attract customers who come from that region. But whatever the intention, the reference is significant because it suggests communication with people who understand it rather than a public who has no interest in going beyond a more generic presentation of Mexican identity. Among the examples I found in Pilsen were a frutería that included the northern Mexican town of Delicias in its name and a carnicería that identified itself with Uruapan in Michoacán. The artist who painted the advertising mural for the frutería more likely than not created a pastiche of different landscapes rather than the actual landscape of Delicias. The carnicería uses pigs as its motif, both in its sign, in the owner’s collection of pigs inside the store, and in painting of the Porky Pig - like caballero who strums his guitar in the moonlight.

The Monterrey Supermarket, unlike the Frutería Delicias, employs a specific icon from Monterrey's landscape, the Cerro de la Silla. This mountain is a powerful image in the landscape of the Mexican city and functions strongly to evoke a sense of place beyond the use of a name. In Monterrey, I saw an image of the mountain used more ironically in conjunction with the image of a powerful genie, to promote a taquería. The difference here is that in Chicago, the image of the mountain must carry the full weight of evoking the city from afar while the use of the mountain in Monterrey itself always functions on the edge of kitsch since the real thing is close at hand.

In contrast to the evocations of sites in Mexico, other places in Pilsen adopt a less nationalistic form of representation. Cafe Jumping Bean, decorated by the artist Carlos Delgado, adopts an ironic tone both in its title, which refers to the children’s toy, the Mexican Jumping Bean, and in its imagery, particularly its logo, a faceless little man balancing a coffee cup on his head. The coffee cup with its jagged decoration suggesting a Mexican motif, recalls more nationalistic images of cazuelas or other types of handcrafted pottery. The bright pink and yellow of the sign are also used in a playful way to suggest Mexican identity.

Ritmo Latino is a record store that features mainly Mexican music although the flowing text of its logo, the strong colors, and the neon elements suggests the high energy of Spanish Harlem or South Beach in Miami, two places associated with Puerto Ricans and Cubans rather than Mexicans. While many Mexicans now prefer the term "Latino," rather than Mexicano, Chicano, or Mexican-American to describe themselves, this sign suggests more of a Carribean flavor than a Mexican one.

It is rare in Pilsen to see a visual form created by a professional graphic designer except in the graphic materials produced at the Mexican Fine Arts Center Museum. Instead signs are created in other ways. Some are made by professional sign shops while others are simply typical vernacular objects created by someone with no particular training in art or design. The sign for the restaurant Rita’s Place is an example. It displays a mixture of Mexican and Anglo cultures. First of all the name itself has Anglo connotations, reminding one of other restaurants with similar colloquial names. Then we see that the cuisine combines Bar-B-Q Beef and Bar-B-Q Chicken with Chicken Mole, or mole poblano as it is known in Puebla, and tacos.

There are also signs done by artists who attempt to give their lettering a Mexican connotation. In the case of La Baguette bakery, which has a French name, the letters "Pasteles para toda ocasión," represent a desert landscape through their tripartite color divisions. The letters in Centro Botanico Tepeyac use colors that relate more to those in Mexican serapes or other woven garments. I found a similar play with letters on a sign for a seafood restaurant in Monterrey where parts of the letters, by their color and outline, were intended to signify water.

We can contrast the vernacular and artistic lettering in the above mentioned signs with the letters from a Presidente liquor billboard that seeks unsuccessfully to communicate some form of Mexican identity but shows no basis for it except the use of Mexican text. A counter to the lettering on this billboard, which neither expresses a traditional idea of Mexicanidad nor derives from the community itself, is the lettering for the restaurant "Mi Barrio," which draws heavily on the bulging letters that originated with the New York graffiti artists who first wrote their names with cans of spray paint on the subway cars and urban walls in large rounded letters. The images of Mexican figures in this sign are depicted humorously unlike their serious representations in the social murals. I noticed the image of a mariachi at street level with his hat pulled over his eyes and the head of the other figure is actually the dot on the "i" in the word "mi."

The graffiti style is also the basis for a painted wall advertisement for the Zamora Joyería on 26th St. Here a diamond is blown up to street scale and contrasted with a smaller stone in the hand of a woman depicted on the awning. The intense colors on the wall advertisement contrast strongly with the demure feminine pink and white on the awning. The imagery in two other murals I saw in Little Village, one on The Children of Pilsen, located on 18th St., and the other on a store on 26th St that imports sweets, piñatas, and other goods from Mexico, takes us even farther from the style of the Mexican muralistas . Not only is there evidence of the American urban graffiti style but the large eyes of the three children on the importer's sign suggest the style of Japanese comic book and cartoon characters while also making reference to the iconic Smiley Face that one can see in the center of the piñata. The lettering on the Supermercado Guadalupana sign on 26th St. draws from both the Mexican style of painted letters as well as from graffiti lettering. But this painted advertisement also strives for a Mexican quality in its choice of colors, the image of a cactus against the sun, and an attempt to give the "T" in "Tamales" a look that suggests an ancient pyramid. The angled shape of the "T" for example, is quite similar to the angled form of the Aztec Temple of Ehecatl at Teopanzolco. The commercial use of the historic past is also in play in Mexico where a winged Aztec warrior functions as the logo for Aeromexico and the eagle atop a pyramid form serves a comparable purpose for Mexicana Airlines. Both logos echo the original use of Mexico’s past for nation building from the 1920s and 1930s, only in this case it is in the context of commercial enterprise rather than a social cause. In Pilsen I observed in recent work a similar willingness to use icons of the Mexican past and the heroic style of the Mexican muralistas for commercial as well as artistic purposes. As the text on one mural indicates, interested parties are invited to call the artists to discuss either business advertisements or artistic murals. So we now return to Cuauhtémoc and the Aztec calendar stone as images available for commercial use as well as social purposes.

Despite the sometimes-conflicting variety of images and visual styles in Pilsen, the engagement with Mexican identity through art and advertising serves several purposes for the Mexican community in Chicago. First, it is a resistance to the assimilationist tendencies of an earlier period of immigration. Following the strong assertion of Mexican identity that began with the Chicano movement of the 1960s, contemporary graphics define a distinct Mexican presence in the city, particularly through the mural movement in which Chicago artists were leaders. Second, the use of local graphics counters an indifference to Mexican culture by the larger American public that characterized an earlier period of Mexican immigration. Miguel Covarrubias satirized that indifference in his painting of the opening of the exhibition "Twenty Centuries of Mexican Art" at New York’s Museum of Modern Art in 1940 where he portrayed a crowd of celebrities chatting casually in the shadow of a large sculpture of the fearsome Aztec goddess Coatlícue.

But what is most important about the manifold graphic representations of identity in Pilsen is their resistance to the appropriation of Mexican culture by large national and international enterprises that would use a semblance of that culture for their own commercial purposes. Consider the design of the Taco Bell fast-food restaurant, with its reference to the Alamo, and the packaging for Tostitos, a word that does not even exist in the Spanish language or the Mexican vocabulary. On the Tostitos package Mexican culture is represented in the form of some motifs adapted from ancient temple architecture and a stone bowl for grinding corn and now for serving salsa dip. Without resistance Mexicanidad would be reduced to commercial pastiche.

Sophisticated graphics by designers of Mexican origin such as Rebecca Mendez of Los Angeles do not provide sufficient resistance to Tostitos and Taco Bell. For example, the posters of Rebecca Mendez are extremely thoughtful and uses complex layered imagery to address important themes such as a critique of Columbus’s voyage to the New World but they operate in an intellectual milieu to which only well educated Latinos have access.

What is perhaps more important than any of the above mentioned reasons to value the graphics of Pilsen is that they continue to reinforce the street as a vibrant center of social life. According to the urban planner David Diaz, the street space of ethnic communities is a powerful alternative to the spectres of empty streets and vast cavernous buildings that postmodern theorists such as Frederic Jameson postulate.

In Chicago’s Pilsen neighborhood, the relation between graphic expression and cultural identity is strongly stated even though the varied examples of ethnic representation have no formal or ideological unity. What is important, however, is that the diverse conceptions of Mexicanidad coexist because of some larger belief that it is better to share the strength of a broad but differentiated cultural identity than to be fragmented and ultimately made invisible once again.

END

„1999 Victor Margolin