El Profe: A Cuban artist connects the present and the past
By Adrian Burgos
Cuba y Puerto Rico, son de un pájaro, las dos alas [are of one bird, the two wings].
The words of poet Lola Rodríguez de Tio published in 1893 point to the close connection that has existed between Cuba and Puerto Rico. It is a sentiment one hears in certain circles where cubanos and puertorriqueños mix, particularly among those who gather to talk about the past and present of the two islands.
But there is another place where, historically, one can see that bond – their shared passion for baseball.
A Caribbean Showcase
The Caribbean Series of yesteryear—where the champions of the Cuban, Dominican, Puerto Rican and Venezuelan leagues— was a true showcase where one could witness the competitive rivalry that can arise among familiars, among caribeños. For them, baseball is vibrant, a place of celebration, joy, making noise, and competition.
The Series has its own flair, where the action on the field is rivaled by what is going on in the crowd. A sense of what the color, passion, and fierceness of the Caribbean Series meant is somewhat captured in the World Baseball Classic games when the national teams from these countries participate.
That color and passion executed with an artistic flair and also an irreverence for politics, time period, or subject matter is what makes the work of artist Reynerio Tamayo so striking when he takes on the subject of baseball.
A collection of his baseball-themed paintings is brought together as the Cuban Slugger exhibit. Timed to coincide with the All-Star Game coming to Washington, D.C., the exhibit opened on July 11 at the Arena Stage, where it will remain through July 28.
An Artistic Flair
Tamayo’s art is both very Cuban and caribeño in its subject and in the juxtaposition of the present and the past, its humor and seriousness in honoring the Latino baseball past.
What one appreciates with Tamayo is his commitment to not being tied to just one way of capturing the past and present of baseball.
In Tamayo’s art, Roberto Clemente is the heart of the Puerto Rican national team, the Great One appearing in a recent vintage of the Puerto Rican team’s uniform.
Tony Pérez is depicted as the RBI machine he was for the Big Red Machine, his right arm rippling with muscles that make him appear like a cyborg.
“Big Papi” David Ortiz knocks Lichtenstein out of the park, paying homage to the art of Roy Lichtenstein and to the power of Ortiz as an irreverent and joyful subject.
Chicago White Sox All-Star José Abreu is aided by La Virgen de la Caridad de la Cobra (patron saint of Cuba) as he takes his swing.
Even Ted Williams makes an appearance in the Cuban Slugger exhibit. The Splendid Splinter wears a uniform top emblazoned “Cubans” above the familiar Red Sox name across its front.
What would an exhibit called Cuban Slugger be without Cristobal Torriente, the powerful hitter who starred both in the Cuban league and in the Negro Leagues in the United States.
Indeed, a sense of the complexity of the history of Cuban and Latino participation in baseball is captured through the inclusion of fellow Cubans José Mendez and Martin Dihigo, who like Torriente were stars of the Negro Leagues.
Americas’ Game
The shared passion for baseball between Cubans and Puerto Ricans was quite clear in my research trips to Cuba, coming into direct contact with the Cuban baseball aficionados on the island.
As a Puerto Rican, New York-born and south Florida-raised, I had some familiarity with the passion that boricuas y cubanos shared for baseball. It was evident in the conversations with Cuban friends about baseball, and at the Little League games we played when our families cheered differently than the non-Latinos in attendance
But it was most acutely felt during my research trips to Cuba. A visit to la esquina caliente [hot corner] in Havana’s Central Park allowed me to witness that passion and knowledge about baseball that Cubans possessed. This was especially true as fanaticos of all ages debated subjects such as who was a better pitcher: Lefty Tiant, Luis Tiant (hijo) or El Duque (Orlando Hernández).
The difference in U.S. and Cuban baseball culture was abundantly clear when I attended a Cuban league game in Cienfuegos. When one player flung his helmet after an awful at-bat, several fans in the crowd chastised him: “Eso no es tuyo, es de la gente.” [That’s not yours, it’s the people].
Those experiences along with spending time with baseball players such as Lorenzo “Chiquitin” Cabrera and Antonio Muñoz allowed me to see and feel the Cuban passion for baseball. These men came from different eras. Cabrera played in the Negro Leagues in the late 1940s before several seasons in the minors during the early days of racial integration in the 1950s. Nicknamed “el gigante del Escambray” [The Giant of Escambray], Muñoz starred in the revolutionary period of baseball as a slugging outfielder from the early 1970s into the late 1980s. Yet, we all shared baseball in common. It opened their homes to me and what inspired me to share their stories.
The paintings of Tamayo transport me back to those moments I shared with cubanos even as they placed me very much in the present. His art purposefully transforms the emotional and lived passion for baseball to the visual with imagery that reminds us the past is always in the present in Americas’ Game.
Featured Image: La Vida Baseball
Inset Images: Reynerio Tamayo