Minneapolis Aztec artist shatters stereotypes

Main | Course Syllabus | Supplementary Readings | Learning Analysis Journal
Course Handouts and Other Items of Interest | -ISM (N.) Video Documentary Project

Minneapolis Aztec artist shatters stereotypes

by Mary Abbe / Star Tribune

Wherever I look, I see racism directed at Native Americans," said Oscar Arredondo, a Minnesota-based artist of Aztec heritage whose show, "A Mile in My Moccasins," addresses persistent racial stereotyping in contemporary American culture.

On view at Franklin Art Works through March 17, 2001, the show features his drawings, sculpture and a huge collage, all of which throw into stark relief popular culture's disparaging attitudes about Indians. Without being preachy or doctrinaire, Arredondo quietly demonstrates the insults inherent in toys, advertisements and emblems that incorporate Indian figures and myths.

Stereotypes
The largest piece is a collage about 6 feet tall by 37 feet long composed of Indian-themed advertisements, comic books, labels, slogans and logos that he has collected. It includes ads for everything from automobiles and fruit to baking powder, toys and vacations. In virtually every item, Indians are reduced to antiquated cliches, the men depicted as grimacing buckskin-clad warriors in feathered headdresses and the women as demure maidens decked in beads and fringe.

Arredondo has merely collected and arranged the disparaging material, but the pervasiveness and diversity of the images, dating from the 1920s to the present, offer overwhelming testimony to the continued trivialization and stereotyping of Indians throughout the world.

"I have traveled on five continents and have found it everywhere -- in Australia, Japan, Sweden, the top of the alps in Switzerland," Arredondo said. "I don't mean to be a social activist; I strive more to be an artist. But until it stops, it has to be addressed and this is just my contribution to the cause."

A 1987 graduate of the Kansas City Art Institute, he was born in Washington, D.C., but lived in many parts of the United States as a child because his late father worked for NASA as a procurement officer dealing with radar installations. His father was one of the last surviving members of an Aztec family that had, for centuries, resisted Spanish domination of their Mexican homeland.

THORN IN SIDE

"We're in the history books back to 1810 for being a thorn in their side," said Arredondo, 36, recalling the stories and family legends told by his father and mother, who was Mexican, English and Welsh. While that early awareness of history contributes to his present work, he does not want to be pigeonholed.

"I get really worried about being labeled a native artist," he said. "My overall goal is to make a dent in art history. I don't care if I die with a hole in my bank account, but I do want to make a dent in art history if I can.'

In his assemblage sculpture, he combines figurines of Indians with bird wings, antlers, small animal skulls, horns, fur, knives and tomahawks. He links each piece to Indian history or contemporary stereotypes. Gilded and bejeweled pinecones in "Death of Innocence," for example, allude to the European gold lust that inspired cultural genocide against the Indians. A shield-like construction encrusted with rusty knives and a No-Trespassing sign is called "The Scars of Oppression," alluding to the defensiveness and hostility some Indians feel about the dominant culture.

The altar-like "Cross of Cortez" incorporates skulls, guns, baroque cupids and, half-buried in the background, replicas of the ancient circular calendar of the Aztecs. Another sculpture combines a tomahawk with the streamlined Indian head that once served as a hood ornament on Pontiacs. Called "Day of Reckoning," the piece is meant as a warning about what might happen if "we lived up to the stereotypes," Arredondo said.

A somewhat comical sculpture titled "My Life as a Bartender" even alludes to Arredondo's part-time job at First Avenue in downtown Minneapolis. Designed as an elaborate table lamp, it is a fur-covered concoction whose base features figurines of nubile young women -- Indian and white -- standing on a drum decorated with hearts and animal skulls. On the lampshade is a note that a woman scrawled onto a napkin and handed to him at First Avenue. She wrote: "No matter how we tempt you, breed pure. Keep Native American Heritage alive."

By far the most potent work in the show is an installation of 17 drawings inspired by "Chief Wahoo," the bucktoothed mascot of the Cleveland baseball team. In 16 of the drawings, the maniacally grinning Wahoo is transformed into a stereotype of another culture or religion -- the "Catholic" wears a Papal miter; "White folks" wear a klansman's hood; "Spanish" has a conquistador's helmet; "African" has a bone in his nose; "Jew" has owlish glasses and curly hair, and so on.

Like all stereotypes, these are cruel, simplistic, anachronistic and vulgar. They're insulting enough to get your dander up. Which is, of course, the point. As Arredondo points out, none of them would be tolerated in contemporary America. Except Wahoo himself.

© Copyright 2001 Star Tribune. All rights reserved.

Return to top

Main | Course Syllabus | Supplementary Readings | Learning Analysis Journal
Course Handouts and Other Items of Interest | -ISM (N.) Video Documentary Project

				by Mary Abbe / Star Tribune Wherever I look, I see racism directed at Native Americans," said Oscar Arredondo, a Minnesota-based artist of Aztec heritage whose show, "A Mile in My Moccasins," addresses persistent racial stereotyping in contemporary American culture. On view at Franklin Art Works through March 17, 2001, the show features his drawings, sculpture and a huge collage, all of which throw into stark relief popular culture's disparaging attitudes about Indians. Without being preachy or doctrinaire, Arredondo quietly demonstrates the insults inherent in toys, advertisements and emblems that incorporate Indian figures and myths. The largest piece is a collage about 6 feet tall by 37 feet long composed of Indian-themed advertisements, comic books, labels, slogans and logos that he has collected. It includes ads for everything from automobiles and fruit to baking powder, toys and vacations. In virtually every item, Indians are reduced to antiquated cliches, the men depicted as grimacing buckskin-clad warriors in feathered headdresses and the women as demure maidens decked in beads and fringe. Arredondo has merely collected and arranged the disparaging material, but the pervasiveness and diversity of the images, dating from the 1920s to the present, offer overwhelming testimony to the continued trivialization and stereotyping of Indians throughout the world. "I have traveled on five continents and have found it everywhere -- in Australia, Japan, Sweden, the top of the alps in Switzerland," Arredondo said. "I don't mean to be a social activist; I strive more to be an artist. But until it stops, it has to be addressed and this is just my contribution to the cause." A 1987 graduate of the Kansas City Art Institute, he was born in Washington, D.C., but lived in many parts of the United States as a child because his late father worked for NASA as a procurement officer dealing with radar installations. His father was one of the last surviving members of an Aztec family that had, for centuries, resisted Spanish domination of their Mexican homeland. THORN IN SIDE "We're in the history books back to 1810 for being a thorn in their side," said Arredondo, 36, recalling the stories and family legends told by his father and mother, who was Mexican, English and Welsh. While that early awareness of history contributes to his present work, he does not want to be pigeonholed. "I get really worried about being labeled a native artist," he said. "My overall goal is to make a dent in art history. I don't care if I die with a hole in my bank account, but I do want to make a dent in art history if I can.' In his assemblage sculpture, he combines figurines of Indians with bird wings, antlers, small animal skulls, horns, fur, knives and tomahawks. He links each piece to Indian history or contemporary stereotypes. Gilded and bejeweled pinecones in "Death of Innocence," for example, allude to the European gold lust that inspired cultural genocide against the Indians. A shield-like construction encrusted with rusty knives and a No-Trespassing sign is called "The Scars of Oppression," alluding to the defensiveness and hostility some Indians feel about the dominant culture. The altar-like "Cross of Cortez" incorporates skulls, guns, baroque cupids and, half-buried in the background, replicas of the ancient circular calendar of the Aztecs. Another sculpture combines a tomahawk with the streamlined Indian head that once served as a hood ornament on Pontiacs. Called "Day of Reckoning," the piece is meant as a warning about what might happen if "we lived up to the stereotypes," Arredondo said. A somewhat comical sculpture titled "My Life as a Bartender" even alludes to Arredondo's part-time job at First Avenue in downtown Minneapolis. Designed as an elaborate table lamp, it is a fur-covered concoction whose base features figurines of nubile young women -- Indian and white -- standing on a drum decorated with hearts and animal skulls. On the lampshade is a note that a woman scrawled onto a napkin and handed to him at First Avenue. She wrote: "No matter how we tempt you, breed pure. Keep Native American Heritage alive." By far the most potent work in the show is an installation of 17 drawings inspired by "Chief Wahoo," the bucktoothed mascot of the Cleveland baseball team. In 16 of the drawings, the maniacally grinning Wahoo is transformed into a stereotype of another culture or religion -- the "Catholic" wears a Papal miter; "White folks" wear a klansman's hood; "Spanish" has a conquistador's helmet; "African" has a bone in his nose; "Jew" has owlish glasses and curly hair, and so on. Like all stereotypes, these are cruel, simplistic, anachronistic and vulgar. They're insulting enough to get your dander up. Which is, of course, the point. As Arredondo points out, none of them would be tolerated in contemporary America. Except Wahoo himself.

				© Copyright 2001 Star Tribune. All rights reserved.