AN INTERVIEW WITH CARLOS CORTEZ
BY CHRISTINE FLORES-COZZA
Carlos Cortez was born in Milwaukee in 1923. His father was a Mexican Wobbly, and his mother a German socialist-pacifist.. Carlos followed in both of their footsteps. He is a wise, wonderful, character of sorts and I had the great pleasure of visiting he and his wife at their home in Chicago. He is the author of Where Are The Voices? & Other Wobbly Poems, and Crystal-Gazing the Amber Fluid and Other Wobbly Poems, both published by Charles H. Kerr Publishing Company. He is published in the anthology Emergency Tacos: Seven Poets con Picante (MARCH/Abrazo Press). Carlos joined the IWW in 1947 after being released from two years of federal detention as a conscientious objector. During his many years as a Wobbly, many of his poems have been published in the Industrial Worker. He is also a renowned graphic artist, and his wood cut prints were recently featured at the Mexican Fine Arts Center Museum. Mr. Cortez has been called a "genius at living." A construction laborer, factory worker, janitor, journalist, salesman, curator, printmaker and poet, he is actively involved in Chicago's Mexican community, helping many in need with his skills and inspiring through his art and poetry. A German/Mexican activist, Mr. Cortez first pursued printmaking after he became involved with the International Workers of the World, for whom he drew cartoons and created posters. His political works from the 1980s and 1990s include homage to United Farm Workers' leader Cesar Chavez. Mr. Cortez has been called an artist of power and grit, but also an artist of hope. His work reflects both sides of this complex man.
His works have been exhibited at leading museums throughout the world, including the Art Institute of Chicago, The Museum of Modern Art in New York, and Das André Amerika in Berlin.
This is part one on his art. In the next issue- part two: his politics.
Christine Flores-Cozza: The manifesto that Ricardo Flores- Magón is holding states: "This stuff of ‘art for art’s sake’ is an absurdity and it’s defenders have always gotten on my nerves. I feel such a reverent admiration and love for art that it causes me great distress to see it prostituted by others who are incapable of having others feel what they feel nor think what they think, hide their impotence behind the slogan of " ‘art for art’s sake.’ " Do you feel that the artist has a responsibility to convey messages in their art that make people more politically conscious?
Carlos Cortez: I think that is one of the obligations the creative artist has, because art can only flourish under freedom. If art flourishes under freedom, or the artists who are strong enough and courageous enough can fight, can use their art to fight tyranny, repression and that. Of course an artist, his obligation, a creative artist, whether it’s a visual artist or a non-visual artist has to express what he or she feels the strongest about. And it would be useless to say to someone who has no particular sociological convictions that they should be sociological in their art. That would be something like the forced "People’s Art" of the Soviet days. It has to come from the heart, from how one feels. A lot depends upon the awareness of the artist in question. If the artist is only interested in the commercial world, well, then sociological, humanitarian concerns are not for them. Of course the truth is that the artists who do make it on art alone are few and far between. Those who are fortunate enough to have patrons and steady patronage. Usually a person who is a creative artist does it as a sideline. I am often asked by young people about making a living at art. I tell them,
"Do you want to make a living of art, or do you want to make a life of art?" If you want to make a living of art, I can’t help you. But if you want to make a life of art, I will give you all my encouragement. Because the truth of it is, those who make a living on art alone are few and far between. Entertainers, you know, like musicians and singers and actors can get a little steadier recompense. And that is why I think that, to me, I agree perfectly with Ricardo Magón: the concept of art for art’s sake is absurd. It’s like saying a hamburger for hamburger’s sake. You do not disrupt the structural integrity of the hamburger by eating it.
CFC: Very good. So what is it you try to convey in your writing?
CC: Well…mostly the idea that we can do something with our world, particularly with our human society, the way it is run, so we can better appreciate all the wealth the world has to offer us. I think it is something that is very important now, because with our present population explosion, the land area that produces our food is getting smaller and smaller. And under our present system we’re scrambling over each other’s necks to receive a few crumbs from those in control. And there are 6 billion of us here on this planet. And the frightening fact is that our lives are being determined by considerably less than a thousand super billionaires who call the shots. But what is it that makes them billionaires? Our work, our labor. We support them. And like John Trudell says (Vol.1Issue2), spend a day without spending money. Throw a scare into them. I say stop the wheels. Stop the wheels from turning. I think they will starve out quicker then we will, because we’ve become accustomed to tightening the belt.
CFC: Please explain some of the imagery in your wood and your linocuts. Like the skulls, the guitars, the manifestos, the letters….
CC: Well, as you see, a lot of my stuff is, like, labor heroes of the past, some not quite...well, yes, Caesar Chavez is unfortunately in the past now, but the idea of contemporary. And then, I did support work for, like, the Pittston Miners in Appalachia. As for the skeletons, that’s a part of Mexican tradition. One of my inspirations was the engraver Posada. The skull was a theme in Mexican art for all of four thousand years or more. In the past century the periodical cartoonist, which was mostly engraving, at that time there was no photoelectric engraving, they had made engravings and used skeletons as caricatures. Uh, caricaturing important political people of the day, and even certain heroes. He did work on broadsides as well as periodicals. Broadsides that sold for a few centavos, or maybe a centavo or two, in which many of his graphics were skeletal. And he was only one of many engravers in Mexico who used the theme of the calavera, or the skeleton. He just happened to become known internationally and collected internationally. A few years ago prints of his were under $100. That is, prints that were run off at that time. The grandson of his publisher has a collection of his plates, and he runs them off and sells reproductions off the original plates. I hope that’s what happens to my work if I ever become noted. Modesty is not one of my attributes (laughs). I realize the possibility that I might catch on some day, and I would not like to see my stuff selling for, you know, out of the price of the ordinary working person.
CFC: Well, somebody overheard us talking on the El stop today. She asked, what did you just make (referring to the plate of Greek goodies), I told her I’m going to do an interview, and she asks, who are you interviewing, I say Carlos Cortez, and she said, oh, the poet.
CC: Oh, well, I’ve been making face.
CFC: Very good. Tell me about Charles H. Kerr Publishers (1740 West Greenleaf Ave. Chicago Il 60626) and your role.
CC: Ah, well. Franklin and Penelope Rosemont are friends of long standing. They have been in the IWW together for 35 years or more, and they inherited the management of Charles Kerr Publishing company. It was originally founded by a number of old timers, a bunch of old socialists who called themselves the Proletarian Party. They kept it going for many years, and eventually they died out, and a number of socialists and wobblies took over the operation of it, and formed the board. Well, some years back they asked me to join the board and, you know, be president of the board. And I said, "Oh yeah; you want somebody to hold the bag if the finances turn legs up (laughs)." I think it is the oldest publishing house of strictly socialist and labor publications in the country, if not the world. There may have been older ones in Germany that were suppressed during the Hitler years. But to my knowledge, it is the oldest publisher of radical books in the country, from the end of the last century.
CFC: So why do you think it is important that the general public have access to antiestablishment literature?
CC: Well, I think education is important, and there has to be some competition with the present mass media. And of course we are competing with them mass media something terrific. In the olden days, before there was television, movies and radio, it was simple. You would get out and put a soapbox on the sidewalk and you would have an audience. Because mostly they would be out of work, or if they did work, they would be playing their cards close to the table and enjoying and evening in the outside. Now, though, those who manipulate us know what they are doing. They keep people diverted with television, sports, movies, and the daily blob. To me, it’s very important to keep the educational process alive. I remember one fellow, I went up to him, he was a radio repairman, he told me how in Mexico people were ignorant because there were no schools. But here, you go to school to learn how to be ignorant.
CFC: (Laughs) very good. This is a multiple question. What would be the one thing you would want to be known for? And tell me about the work you do in Chicago, what you are known for, and how would somebody study under you or learn from you?
CC: Well, I am already happy to be known for what I am doing, but I think the greatest thing would be if someone in the future would say, "That’s the guy who got me started." That would be the greatest thing. There are a lot of young dudes who are much better artists than I am. I recognize that, and without feeling shy about what I do, and in some way some of them even claim to have been inspired by me. I think the best thing is that when you know something, you pass it on to the next person.
CFC: You are so much more than just an artist though. That’s plain and clear.
CC: You have to pass it on to the next person. To have something all by your self doesn’t do anything.
CFC: Do you still have workshops around?
CC: Yeah, I do occasional workshops.
CFC: I drew your picture once. I missed your workshop by an hour. I had just read about it in the Reader, and so I called thinking I could schedule it and make it. But they said, "Oh, the class is going on now." So I drew you a picture. I can’t find it. I wrote, "I missed you again Carlos Cortez (laughs)."
CC: Well, if you got time I’ll give you a few pointers here and there.
CFC: That would be great.
CC: The only thing is, you don’t teach art. You open doors. It’s one thing to show you how to push and engraving tool, handle a brush, blend colors and that. But that only liberates what is already inside of you.
CFC: I’ve read that some of your influences include Alfredo Zalce …
CC: Yeah, well, he was later influence. My earliest influences were people like Diego Rivera, later José Clemente Orozco…
CC: And eventually Jose Guadeloupe Posada. And then some art teacher told me I should look at the stuff of Kathë Kollwitz (1867-1945). Through Kathë Kollwitz I became aquatinted with the German expressionists, Edvar Munch In fact, I had a very beautiful afternoon in Oslo. I went to the Munch Museum there. Marianna was saying, "You’re shaking." I said, "This is a pilgrimage." Later on, I read one of Munch’s remarks. He said when he found multiples, you know, graphics, he said, "Now I can free art", from the sterile confines of the galleries and museums and the tombs of the private collectors. Well, unfortunately, the art dealers, who are at least to me a bunch of vultures, recorded all his plots and they have catalogs that don’t even list the price of his works. In other words, if you have to ask, you can’t afford it. It’s like these restaurants that post the menu on the outside without prices. If you have to ask, don’t come in.
CFC: Your stuff is, very…well, Dennis is my friend, he knows. I have no money to spend on anything but I had to get yours. I appreciated it so much that I found it affordable. And the few paintings that I have sold, I have tried to keep affordable. I believe that art is for the people, and that’s the way it should be.
CC: Exactly.
CFC: What is your connection to the Guild Complex and Tia Chucha Press?
CC: Well, I used to go to the Guild bookstore, and then they opened up the storefront next to it as a cultural thing, where they had drawings session once a week, and also poetry. I became a part of the poetry thing and got called on sometimes to give a reading. Then, in the late fifties, I started writing poetry. I was sort of inspired by the beat generation in San Francisco. I was looking at this, I kind of liked it, and I said, "Hell, I can write shit like that too." I was initially published by the Industrial Worker. Later on, I found out I was being anthologized. Other periodicals were picking up my stuff. Then of course through Kerr two books came out, and through MARCH/Abrazo Press, another book. Tia Chucha Press is run by Luis Rodriguez.
CFC: He rejected my manuscript (laughs). I had said to myself, "When that rejection letter comes I am going to frame it!"
CC: Keep on plugging. Keep on plugging.
Marianna Cortez: You write?
CFC: I write. I write, I paint; I do all sorts of things that don’t pay the rent (laughs).
CC: Well, at this late stage in my life, some of my stuff is paying the rent and putting food on the table. And paying the tax collector, which is something that ranks me. I don’t turn my nose up at making money, but what is more important to me is making face. Today I received a little catalog from Spain. Some young people from the anarchist organization over there were here with a friend of mine who is a veteran of the struggle in Spain, from when Franco was taking over. They came to visit him, they came around, and they had some foundation that makes exhibits. They took a liking to my stuff, so I gave them copies to take back with them. Now I found they are making a traveling exhibition with a little catalog. So, it’s a good ego booster.
CFC: Very good. What advice would you have for someone struggling to support them selves as they try to become and established artist?
MC: You have to have someone else working for you (laughs).
CC: Well, you have to have someone to put the beans and patatoes on the table. Usually most of us are working at something we ordinarily wouldn’t do except that we are able to put the beans on the table. Again I say, are you going to try to make a living of art or make a life of art? Always make sure you have enough time of your own to develop the creativity within you. I took night classes in my early twenties up in Milwaukee because was working in construction, had construction money, and was young with a lot of diversions calling. I said, "Well, there’s at least a couple of times a week I can sit down and stay in practice." Later on I’d meet some of these guys who had gotten their degree, got a job through it, and they said all they were doing was designing soap packages or automobiles. They complained that already, if they tried to do something on their own, they had the merchandising tricks perverting what they did. So I always say, some kind of work you are going to have to do. Unfortunately, for most of us it will be something we would rather not do. Those of us who happen to have peace with our job are lucky, but we must manage to find peace one way or the other. If not, then we’d go off the hook. But always find time to develop what’s in you.
CFC: Right. You know I’ve known so many people who have gone to art school and have gone off to work for advertising firms as graphic artists or whatever, and they don’t paint anymore. They don’t do what inspired them in the beginning. I am not an advocate of art school. If I wanted to teach art in grammar school or high school, then I’d go to art school. If I want to paint, I do it or try to learn from someone who I know who inspires me or something like that…
CC: That is about the best opportunity in art; to become an art teacher in a high school or kindergarten or what have you. And that of course is, again, peon work. Being a teacher. But, there is also the satisfaction that you are opening doors for somebody. And I have had that satisfaction. For the past five years I’ve given poetry workshops at Jorosco Academy in Pilsen. And apparently they like what I am doing, because they keep calling me back every spring. And it’s al little extra money on the table.
I guess one of the things also is life itself. Finding peace for yourself, finding a way to live with your situation…
MC: Very difficult…
CC:Of course that’s the situation of most people. That, I think, is what brought out our rich font of folklore, of folk art, of folk music, among all people. They had to have a way of making their humdrum life bearable. Some of the most beautiful music came from the folk, which in turn influenced the classical composers. Tchaikovsky lifted directly from folk music. Bach, you listen to his stuff and it reminds you of a folk dance. And I think culture comes up from the bottom. It never comes down from the top. The only thing that comes down from the top? There is a Mexican popular saying, "Las gallinas de arriba siempre cagan en las de abajo." The chickens on the top always shit on those below.
CFC: What does Koyokuitatl mean? Why you have chosen this name?
CC: Well, a few years ago there was a sacerdote (holy man) up here from Mexico. He was a practitioner of the indigenous religion, the pre-Columbian religion. He was giving baptisms and marriages. He gave Marianna and I an indigenous marriage. And then, in a couple of years, baptisms. He said he was going to give me a baptism in a Nauhatl name. He said he could choose one for me unless I had one I wanted to choose. I gave him that one and I told him the history of it. When I was up in the federal correctional during the war, it was up in the Minnesota woods. And at night, in the distance, you could hear the coyotes. And I said, "Oh, now that is beautiful. That’s the sound of freedom." So I took on the name "coyote sound". And coyotes are, among the indigenous peoples of this continent, an honored animal. Honored, because of their talents of survival. They have those survival smarts. In fact, many of the pre-Columbian luminaries "coyote" in their name, like the poet Natavo Coyote, which means "hungry coyote". In other words, hungry in the sense of somebody who is looking for inspiration, for ideas. The North American Indians also honored the coyote. In fact, they had a series of stories, called coyote stories, of coyotes outsmarting larger and more powerful animals
CFC: So which of your poems in here "Where Are the Voices and Other Wobbly Poems"(Charles H. Kerr Publishers)? is your favorite?
CC: Hmmm…I don’t know, it’s hard to say. I have long ago stopped saying "favorites"…
CFC: Which one still speaks to you?
CC: They all speak to me. I am not ashamed of any of them or they would never have gotten in this book. It’s like my two nieces asking, "Who’s your favorite niece?" How the heck could I answer that? They are each unique in their own way. And, in this way, I think a poem is unique. Some of my work I consider my "masterpieces". Like my linocut of Magón I consider one of my masterpieces, as well as the linocut of Posada. Also, the one of the pregnant woman…
CFC: I love that one.
CC: One time I had my stand down at the Fiesta del Sol and this one guy came along. I was with the father of a friend, and he said, "I’m warning you, he is one of these "art for art’s sake" people." I said I thought I could handle him. And the guy looks at me and says, "Are you really proud of this stuff here?" And I said, " Well, if I were ashamed of it, you wouldn’t be seeing it." I gave him the best answer I could.
I remember one time we were invited to a book fair at Circle (University of Illinois at Chicago). I was there with my posters and Carlos was there with his books. So, a couple stops by. The man was a Mexican professor. His wife was white. And the wife says, "I don’t like that." I said, "Well, can’t win them all." And she says, "Oh, is that yours? I’m sorry." I said, "Never be sorry for an honest opinion." Like I say, you can’t win them all. I can accept that without being bothered. I made her feel comfortable.
MC: A fellow came here from Greece. There were about three or four people, and my brother was here, and I had food and so on. But this one particular guy was a "self-made man". He was looking around (at Carlos’s artwork). I liked him. He was extremely gross, but so honest. He was saying, ‘Art’? What do you mean, ‘art’? Artists ought to be put against the wall and shot." And everyone else was saying, "Oh, come on! You mean Carlos too?" And he said, "Why not? One less!"
Christine Flores-Cozza can be contacted at: cozza@bigmonkeypress.com