The date is April 30, 1987

This is an interview with Philip Bragar, artist

The place: Mexico City

The interviewer is Elizabeth Bakewell.

I: I want to cover a bunch of categories, we'll see how much

time we have before you keel over, but I brought two tapes just

in case. Anyway, what I really am interested in knowing more

than anything is the life of the artist. All sorts of things

about the life of the artist, so we might as well start at the

beginning. That's why it could take a while. The young artists,

it doesn't take so long, you know, they're only twenty. They

don't have much recollection, but the grandfathers of the art

world, you know, maybe I should have brought four tapes, but

anyway, I'd like to start out by just asking how did you get

interested in doing art? What's your first recollection of

wanting to do art?

PB: Ok. In New York City when I was studying at a school called

"The Latin American Institute", I was studying Foreign Trade,

that's one of the things I studied. I also studied journalism at

one time, and I, and I think this was in 1946 I guess, beginning,

yeah, and I was studying in New York City at the school called

"The Latin American Institute", and I didn't realize it, but at

that time I was living up in a Puerto Rican section in New York

to help me with Spanish.

I: Oh.

PB: And I remember lying in my bed sometime in this room I was

renting and I'd see squares in my mind. I'd be lying there. I

didn't realize what they were then, but now I realize that they

were canvases or frames. I stayed one year at the school, very

good school. I would've graduated with a degree in Foreign

Trade. The school was a real tough one too, but anyway, I left

after a year, and that's when I took the train to Mexico City,

and I started wandering around Mexico.

I: So this is 1947.

PB: 1946. The end of '46, I think, or right before, and little

by little I got rid of my belongings including a nice new

suitcase, just to carry everything I could in just a little cloth

of bag what we call a "mochila" here. I was just wondering along

the roads and just seeing. I even went to Veracruz on a bus, I

flew to Veracruz and I returned to Mexico City, and then I

hitched, started hithhicking toward the South. My idea was to go

to South America, which I never got there. But I remember I'm

walking along this road in, on the way to Oaxaca, and the road

was sort of raised, on a raised piece of land and I looked down

below and I saw this town with these tile roofs on it, and the

colors impressed me, the red of the tiles, and the color of the

walls, and of the town, and it occured to me, "well, it'd be very

interesting", no, the thought came to me that if I ever decided

to become a painter I'd come back to Mexico and paint and the

thought, that thought of being a painter never, never, never

entered my mind before. I sort of have a feeling that those

forms that I saw resting in New York were still trying to tell me

something. Well, I kept wandering and I got down to Oaxaca, and

those days, well, it was very nice, even as it is now, and then I

got to Comitan, Mexico, you know where that is? Well, that's in

Chiapas.

I: Oh.

PB: Comitan, Chiapas.

I: Ok. I know Chiapas. I know San Cristobal but not much else.

PB: So, excuse me. I know what he wants. C'mon Tomaso (the

cat) In Comitan, Chiapas, I bought a horse. I had, my money was

running out, so I bought this big horse...

I: Now, wait a minute. You knew you were coming down to stay?

PB: No. I was just wandering. I didn't have any plans, any

plans of where I was going. Well, I had a sort of a vague idea

of South America.

I: But you were, you thought at the time you were just on a

trip.

PB: I was just wandering, that'all. I didn't have any plans to

go this way, that way, or the other way, when I came to a cross-

road I...One reason why I wanted to travel alone was that I

didn't want to discuss with anybody about which way to go, left

or right.

I: Yeah, right.

PB: So, I got to Comitan, Chiapas, and money was beginning to

run low so I thought, "well if I have a way to transport myself

I'll be able to live off the land some way". I wasn't worried.

So, let's see 1946, 25, 35, 45, I must have been about 21 then. I

bought this big horse, a saddle, and I had this big hat and a

wooden cantine which later on when I drank out of it the water

turned sour, and the guy swore to me that the horse was three

years old, and I didn't even know how to ride the thing, but I

got on top of him and I when I got on top of him, I remember the

horse jumped back, and there in the middle of the town, I started

yelling, "help, socorro", in English, and in Spanish, one of the

three words of Spanish which I knew, and everybody, the soldiers,

the town's people run out and saw this crazy foreigner on this

big horse who didn't know how to handle it. Finally, I got the

horse down to the ground and I directed it, the horse, to the

outskirts of town, and there I saw a farmer there, and me with my

limited capacity for thinking, I figured, "well, Guatemala

south." This is true, every word of it. I asked this farmer,

"por donde queda el sur?," which way is south? He said, "por

alla", that way. I mean, he could've pointed north, I would've

gone north, but he said "that way," so I pointed the horse to the

south, anyway we went. Well, after a half a day's riding, I got

used to it.

I: At this point now the Panamerican highway doesn't exit.

PB: I don't know. I went through the mountains. I didn't even

know no roads.

I: Well, how did you get to Oaxaca?

PB: Oh, that I got on the road. I got on the Panamerican

highway, right after I left Comitan, Chiapas, [on the horse] I

was on my own, I just went through the mountains on my own.

I: Then you were on your own.

PB: Some country roads or just through the mountains.

I: Oh, my God. So you're on a horse.

PB: And I kept on going, about half a days riding, I realized

that the horse was not three years old because...

I: It was how old?

PB: I'll tell you later. And I feared, because he wasn't

galloping fast enough. I felt it, you know, you could feel, like

when you're running, if you're on a horse, even if you don't know

anything about horses, but you feel when it goes smoothly. This

horse was running like..I would run today. I mean, in high

school I was a good trackstar.

I: So this is a classic story.

PB: It is, so anyway.

I: The gringo ends up with an old hag.

PB: Don't put any crap like that in there. That sounds sort of

corny.

I: Oh, this is going to be...

PB: I mean, that statement sounds sort of corny. I wish I

wouldn't be in it, you know, I mean you've been using the word

"gringo" and all that. So anyway, I kept on going on this

horse,and I slept that night, in a clump of trees, and I met

people. I said "buenos dias", or "buenas tardes," I didn't carry

a gun with me because I figured if I had a gun number one I

wouldn't know how to use it and in second place if you carry, if

anyone meets some stranger in the woods, in the mountains with a

gun it would only make tension but the other person on tension.

I figured, "well if anybody is gonna kill me, ok, it's my time so

the hell with it. But I figured it's no point in me creating

tension in other people. I remember the first drink that after a

couple of days after drinking out of that wooden cantine I bought

which had a beautiful picture painted on it, the water turned

sour in the cantine. I think the cantine I bought was just for

decoration. One night, I get, I could see that the...it was so

dark that I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. I remember

testing it and I arrived at a whole bunch of these big chosos,

these big huts. And I saw a fire under the door, a light under

the door of one of them. When I knocked on the door at three in

the morning. This guy opened the door, this man opened the door

and he said, "I'd like something to eat, a place to sleep, and

take care of my horses," "si, senor". He took the horse and

disappeared into the black of the night and I figured, "well,

that's the end of the horse and saddle, and blankets and

everything" but it wasn't, and it took me into the big hut, and

there was this family sitting around a fire on the dirt floor

and they didn't even talk to me, I don't even know if they looked

at me, and I noticed a sheet on the one corner, and the fellow

told me a few hours before I arrived the baby was born, that's

why the sheet was there and the mother and baby were behind the

sheet and the family, they were eating something in the house so

I was fortunate, with respect. Ok, after I had something to eat

he took me to another hut, gave me a some planks of wood to sleep

on. I remember he had a very interesting altar, you know, they

have these altars here in Mexico, I remember that very

distinctly, and I slept there, and the next morning I gave him

some money, it wasn't much, but it was something, and then I

left. Ah, one experience I had because I remember I saw, they

had some fellow there with this bad cut in his hand and there was

a lot of dirt in it, and I told some woman I had medical

experience which is not true. I think I passed my first boy

scout first class test, first aid.

I: But you knew it had to be cleaned.

PB: Oh yes, so I had this woman boil water, boil rags and I put

practically boiling water on this guy's hand because I told them

that he was going to lose the hand, and I said, "look, every two

hours boil water and clean that up." Then I kept on going so

finally I got to almost where the border was. I got to the

border.

I: How did you know you were at the border?

PB: That's a good question. I don't know. Oh, I think probably

because I was on this hill looking down the valley and I saw an

army outpost so I figured that must have been the border, and I

was thinking, " I'll just go around these guys without reporting

to them," and then I was thinking, "no that's not a good idea

because they'll shoot me first and after they kill me, they'll

ask me my name. I decided to go down there. So there comes this

guy from New Jersey, in this huge horse, slowly coming up, all

the soldiers looking at him and it took me about two or three

hours to convince these soldiers I was on the level. I showed

them my passport, my papers, I even had papers that I bought for

the horse, and finally I convinced them I was ok. And then one

of the remnants of the clothes I did have in my bag was a red tie

that one, some young liuetenant just loved that tie, so after I

realized that they believed me, they weren't gonna do anything to

me, they, I gave them the tie. Oh, that made us friends for

life, you know. I stayed with them a day or so, had some

interesting experiences with them, like one night, that night,

the in the 182* you know, there's just a few officers in the

company of men, regular soldiers. They all ate together because

it was such a small outpost, and we're eating there in the

evening and then the soldiers wanted to make a joke with me and

they said, "oiga gringo mira," (this time it is ok) "oiga gringo

toma esta dulce." All I knew what it was it was a piece of chile

piquin, you know what that is? And they wanted me to take it.

They wanted to make, play a joke on me. I said "no thank you

very much." "No, no, you'll like it, you'll like it". Well, I

could see that they wanted to play, they wanted me to play a

joke, to play a joke. I mean, I figured, "well, I gotta let them

have their fun, Jesus." So I picked up that little piece of

chile piquin like this and my idea was to fill my mouth so fast,

to swallow it so fast and I'd say "Well, very good dessert."

Well, everybody was watching me, the officers were going like

this, and I had a chile piquin in hand like this I and it got

stuck on my hand. Holy God, I thought the Fourth of July, the

Bastille in France and the 16 of September in Mexico, all

exploded together. Boy, oh boy, I still feel that.

I: So they got their joke. They got their money's worth.

PB: They got their joke. They got their money's worth. They got

what they wanted. So, anyway, fine. Ok, the next day, we went

over to the Guatemalan side. I went with them, they took me over

to the custom over there, and the guy in the Guatemalan side

said,"look, you can go into Guatemala, but I can't let you take

the horse in because it's abstosa* in Mexico. Abstosa is hoof and

mouth disease. There was a lot of it down in here. For nothing

would he let me take that horse, and he was right. So I returned

to the Mexican side with the soldiers and I wanted to sell them

the horse, and I said, "look the horse is three years old, it

says so on the papers." They started laughing, laughing,

laughing, they said, "ay gringo." Well, this time I don't mind

using the word, no. "Ay gringo tomaron el pelo." It means they

took you for fool, the guy who sold you this horse. They said,

"look, this is how you can tell the age of a horse". I opened

the horse's mouth, they said, "this horse is about ten years

old." And I said, "well, when the horse was running, I sort of

felt it ran like a ten year old instead of a three year old when

it was galloping. Well, they didn't want to buy the horse for

anything, so I had no choice, I was going to say drive the horse.

I had no choice but to ride the horse back to Comitan, to back to

Comitan, which I did. So I rode it back. I remember when I

entered the town I got sun stroke, uh. I felt of course, like a

damn fool. I was riding without a hat for a half of day. I

nearly fainted. I remembered some very nice man, he saw me

sitting on a curve like this. I was bent over, and he picked me,

took my by the arm, took me into his house, he let me take a

shower and he took care of the horse. I remember he had three

cute daughters and even though I was delirious with sunstroke I

said, "Gee, I gotta invite one of them to the movies." That

never came to pass, but, and he was very nice. I don't even know

who he was or what his name was or what. I remember how he had a

nice beautiful patio inside the garden, and inside his house a

nice garden, and, I felt bad. I left them. I went back to the

same guy who sold me the horse to sell it back to him, and

naturally, he bought it back at a much less price, and I think

the horse had some saddlesores and my saddle, too. It was a big

beautiful one, and I saw it, well, no, I didn't give a damn. So

I get on a bus and I go all the way to the Pacific side to go

into Guatemala which I did, and I stayed in Guatemala City a few

days. I mean, things are coming into my mind but there's no

point in mentioning every detail. We're talking about how I got

into painting, no. I mean, that trip to...

I: I am interested though how you got interested in Latin America

also, but yeah.

PB: Well, that I don't know. In 1946

I: Well, we'll stick to the painting.

PB: I just came here one day. I don't know. It was '45, '46.

No, this must have happened in 1947.

I: Ok, a year after the school.

PB: Because '46 I was in Mexico for a couple of months and then

I think in '47 is when I came again, so at the beginning there I

said 46. It must have been '47. That'll be corrected, no? So

this is the second trip here, and I remember I got into Guatemala

City late at night and I didn't, no restaurants open. All I had

was a hundred dollar bill on me. So hell, I'm hungry as hell. I

wanted a restaurant, the biggest hotel in Guatemala City, and I

said, "look, can you change a hundred bill?" And the fellow

said, "no, I can't change it, but sit down, eat all you want and

come back and pay me tomorrow." Isn't that nice?

I: Very.

PB: Which I did. The next day I changed it and I went back.

And then I went to San Salvador too, which at that time was a

beautiful city. You know, it makes me feel so sad about what's

happening there now, and then I got down to Guatemala. That's

when I really ran out of money, uh? I was flat broke, and some

Americans who had this gold mine out in the hills of Honduras.

So I got to Honduras. Guatemala, San Salvador, Honduras. I

worked in this gold mine for no pay. It was just when Truman was

elected president.

I: Ok

PB. Now we can count the year.

I: Right, it was right after the war.

PB: Yeah, a couple of years.

I: He became president during the war and then was

Pb: Dewey was running against him. The racquet-buster from New

York. And I was out, and I remember that one of the owners of

gold mine came in his little plane, co-plane, and gave us the

news that Truman was elected, so that fixes the year definitely.

I: Yeah.

PB: So it must have been in November then. Must have been

November '46. No, no, November 47. Yeah, the end of '47. It

was 48 when I went back to the states.

I: November 47.

PB: Yeah. It must have been because November is the elections,

no? Ok, so I stayed in this gold mine a couple of weeks, and I

went back to Guatemala City, to Tegucigalpa, not Guatemala City,

to Tegucigalpa, and I was broke again. I remember one, an

official, I met some guy who was some fellow who was an official.

(Is it coming thru all right? )

I: Yes. I just check periodically.

PB: Of ESSO oil company, I think it was one of the oil

companies and he lent me $5 to get a ride, take a ride, pay

passage to the coast which I did. Well, I got a job in an office

of the United Fruit. Just a job that they give to the people

from the country, you know, typing, some fellows there are

looking for one of the boys said, "are you looking for a job?" I

said yeah. They paid me nothing. But well, I don't know.

I: Enough to buy dinner

PB: Enough to live on, plus room and board so it was great. And

it is interesting how things happen because one night about a

week after I got there, a few days after I got there, I began to

get the chills, and I knew it was malaria, 'cause I had that in

the Pacific of just a touch of it so by three, this is when I was

working for United Fruit, doing this job in this office, doing

work on an adding machine or something, and I went to the

hospital that night and about two, three in the morning the

doctor opens the door, and I says, "look, I'm sick, I work here".

The doctor says, "I don't know you." I said, "I work in the so

and so department." He said, "I don't know you. How do I know

you're not some beachcomber." And I said to him, "Well, I'm not

a beachcomber but I'm sick, and you're a doctor, and I'm telling

you I'm sick, so if I die it's not on my conscience, it's yours."

I told him that. "And if I die tonight, it's your fault." So I

sat up on one of these rocking chairs out on the patio of the

hospital. I just sat there. I figured I was gonna sit there,

I'd sit there until the rest of my life which might not have been

too long.

I: A few more hours.

PB: Well, I don't know how quick malaria kills you but it's bad,

and I figured, "well, hell I'll just sit here." About two, three

in the morning he came out, maybe four in the morning, said, come

on in, and he gave me, put me in bed, and the next day when a

friend of mine he came over to see me, they took care of me. So

it's was very fortunate that I got sick there and not on the

road.

I: Yeah. Have you had any recurrences of it?

PB: No. It was just a light case.

I: So then you were back on the road?

PB: Ah.

I: Were you back on the road?

PB: No, I stayed in United Fruit a month or so, and then I left

them. I remember I had thirty-five dollars in my pocket then,

and I got out to the Island of Boytan*334. That's where the

coast of Honduras there were banana boats there going to the

States. I mean United Fruit wouldn't give a ride back on of

their ships because I wasn't sent from the States by them besides

I just had the same type of job as any other people who lived

there. So, I get out to Voitan*341, and the first, I go to this

guy, somebody who owns a banana boat and I said, "look, give me a

ride to Florida on your banana boat and I'll work on the ship."

He said, "look, if you don't give me thirth-five dollars you

don't put a foot on my ship." I said goodbye 'cause that's all I

had with me. And, oh the trip from the island of Honduras to

from the mainland of Honduras to this island of Voitan*350 was

tremendous. The big boat, big ship. In the hull were people

with babies, and goats and chickens, and blankets and all their

produce and everything and I remember at night this other guy and

I, we climbed up on the top deck, and there was no railing or

anything. We both fell asleep, and I woke up some hours later,

and there's a big storm, the boat is going like this. I figured,

"Oh Jesus, this guy fell overboard." So I tried to climb down

into the hull of the ship again over the side, it was just a few

inches from my feet and I, of course, if I was thrown into the

water, they wouldn't have heard me because of the motor of the

ship, and the wind and the lightning, and the storm and

everything. So, I did get in. I saw this guy there, felt a

little better. Ok, so we get to Voitan* and this guy wouldn't,

this fellow in the boat wouldn't give me a free ride there as a

worker. Then another fellow saw me, and said, "Hey, I'm going

during the week. I'll let you, I'll give a ride to Florida. But

you gotta stay here a week." He gave me a little room to live

and I think each person on the island at that time was allowed

one pail of water. At least that's what I was allowed. I could

go through several stories that, things that happened.

I: Oh, I can imagine.

PB: In that week, fantastic, like the one being saved, and all

that.

I: Oh God.

PB: And I remember once, I just, I, about a hundred yards, maybe

a hundred meters, I don't know, maybe a little more from Voitan*

there was this little island. I used to see the kids swim out

there a lot. Well, I ate my meals with this black family which I

told you but he used to tell me Jesus, that sharks come in

sometimes, baracudas, sometimes. One day it was so hot, I

decided well, if the kids can swim out there, I can go out there.

So to hell with it. I jumped in the water and swam, started

swimming out there. Even what they call "congarina," it's a big

long fish that stays real next to the land and eats the little

fish, but they have big sharp teeth, like a big eel. So half way

to this other island, I feel something grab my leg, and get

tighter and tighter. I'm in the water. My heart went zum. I

imagined in my mind the biggest octupus in the world. I kept

swimming and swimming and swimming, and swimming. So there was

another danger, cerizos, this thing with the black, what do they

call them?

I: Oh, I know [sea urchins]

PB: That they stick into you.

I: They're on the ground.

PB: They stick into you. They and they are very poisonous.

I: Cerizos in Spanish?

PB: I think so. Let me check.

I: Cerizos

PB: Oh really? They're painful, no?

I: Yeah, they are.

PB: So I'm going along like this, trying to avoid them, my face

under the water and this thing getting tighter on my leg but it

didn't hurt. It couldn't be a shark because by this time the

shark would have taken the leg off. So finally, I put myself up

in this little island. The little island was maybe three times

as big as this table. And so I'm up there like this, like this,

really, and I'm pulling my leg out of the water and I looked, and

I looked to see what horrible monster grabbed my leg. Well, it

was a big piece of newspaper that was floating in the water, and

was wrapped around my leg. Scared the living hell out of me.

I: You didn't dare look back. Well, anyway, so you eventually

go back to Florida. Wait. How long had you been in Mexico and

Guatemala, and Tegucigalpa for that 1947 trip?

PB: I think it's about 4 months, 4 months, 3, 4 months.

I: But you had been in Mexico, you mentioned before?

PB: '46 in Mexico City.

I: That was your first trip? And this you just talked about was

your second trip. So in '46 you've gone to Mexico City.

PB: That's all.

I: For?

PB: Just to see what it looked like.

I: Just for a couple of weeks? Or, by yourself again?

PB: Yeah.

I: Ok. I have two questions to fill in the gap. You mentioned

you were in the Pacific. Were you in the war?

PB: Well, I was in the service, but I was not in the war...Thank

God I was never in any battle.

I: Thank God.

PB: I was in an engineering department. We just dug roads and

made fortifications and things like that.

I: What year was that?

PB: Well, '43, '44.

I: Right during the war.

PB: But I wasn't in any battle, I said. Our job was to build

roads and fortifications and things like that. So, anyway, I get

to Florida, and I'll never forget the first thing I see when this

little boat, banana boat that I'm on...

I: Yeah, right

PB: where I got this ride. We get into Florida and to the bay,

the first thing I see the police are pulling a body out of the

water. This is dramatic, no? Ok, so I get there and I call up

one of my relatives in Hacketstown, New Jersey, and after a

little bit of a discussion, he sent me some money for the train

fare back. Well, he said, "you got this far, get here the rest

of the way yourself. I could have done it but it would have

taken too long. Ok.

I: Now

PB: All right now, wait a minute, wait a minute.

I: Well, I have a couple of questions that are...

PB: I'm getting to the important part but go ahead.

I: No, let's get to the important part.

PB: But maybe your questions, you might forget them.

I: No, I was, your parents are now in New Jersey.

PB: My parents were dead.

I: Your parents had died. Did they die before the war?

PB: My father died when I was four. My mother died when I was

sick with malaria in the hospital there.

I: Ok, from the, that you've gotten in the Pacific.

PB: Uh? No, no, no. But, when I was in the hospital for the

United Food that's when she died. Right when I had had the

malaria that's when I was notified she died, so. This was a

couple of months afterwards.

I: Yeah. So, how many, well, we need to get to the important

part, but at one point, at some point I need to know how many

siblings you have?

PB: How many what?

I: Brothers and sisters.

PB: Well, I had one brother, but he died some years ago, a

younger brother than I.

I: And now you have no brother.

PB: No, just nephews and cousins. Two nephews in the States.

I: Ok, it's the nephew that I've heard you talk about in New

Jersey?

PB: Yeah, yeah. Oh, no. No, the person you heard me talk about

is my cousin, my cousin Norman. The guy that's been helping with

my paintings and whose telephone numbers I gave to Dick [Richard

Kempe] so he can call him. Now I have a lot of paintings and

works stored at Norman's house. Some in New Jersey. Ok, so I

get back to New Jersey and I go up to Hacketstown, New Jersey, a

small town in the mountains of Jersey, and my aunt and uncle let

me stay there. There's sort of, I don't know I had something

swollen on my leg. I guess conditions on the banana boat were

not exactly the cleanest, and, oh that trip on the banana boat

was beautiful, man.

I: Oh, I bet.

PB: I remember seeing the tip of Cuba, and these flying fish

would fly up all, on the deck. Yeah, they'd fly right up.

They'd fall right on the deck, and once the crew, a few guys in

the crew, the guys who worked on, they caught a barracuda, and

we ate it. The cook there made it. Ok, here I am now in this

nice quiet little country town in North of New Jersey called

Hacketstown, New Jersey, not where I'm from. I'm from Long

Branch, but anyway, and one day, without any preconceived plans,

I get up, I go out. I think it was a Five and Ten, I went to. I

bought some paper, a canvas and some tubes of oil paint, and a

brush, and I went back, and I started painting. Like that. As I

recall, I didn't say, "Well, today I'm gonna paint."

I: Did your aunt and uncle paint? Either of your aunt and uncle?

PB: No, no, no.

I: Any of their friends? No. Painting just came to mind?

PB: Yeah, that's all. And I remember I painted these buildings

at that time, these buildings of people falling out of them. I

thought it was some psychological expression, but I was sort of

scared because I would think, "Jesus, what's this?" I couldn't

believe it. And, and childishly, at that time I thought, "Oh, at

last I found something I could do." Childishly because I said,

"Oh, I'm doing something now no one else in the world can do." I

mean that's sort of a childish thing, to be thinking like that,

you know. What I'm doing is so important that no one else can do

it. But what I meant was that no one else can express exactly

what I'm expressing. In other words, each person expresses what

they have to express and they could use the same forms, the same

way of doing things, but each person, if they honestly do it,

it's gonna express what they have to express a little

differently. So,

I: At the time, what was your aunt and uncle, what were they

doing?

PB: Well, they owned a restaurant, a store, soda store, they had

a soda fountain, sold presents and had a little restaurant.

I: And did they have any children living at home at the time?

PB: No, their children were gone. They weren't living at home.

I: The cousin who,

PB: Who? Norman?

I: Norman. Is he one of their children?

PB: No.

I: Another?

PB: He's from another one. He was from my uncle Ben. He was

another one. So, anyway, I kept painting these things, and

Jesus, so I really started going at 'em. I couldn't believe it.

"Well, what is this?" Scared the hell out of me. It drove my

uncle nuts because once I started, well, when someone is

painting, whoever is around, it drives him nuts, uh? If you

don't believe me, ask Carlotta [my wife.] So, anyway, I started

really going at it, went out and got more paper, more canvas. I

started painting these bloody things, these building, red and

black buildings, twisted buildings with big perspective and

people falling left and right out of them, and...

I: Do you have any of those?

PB: No, those unfortunately I don't. And then after leaving

Hacketstown, I went to my hometown, which is Long Branch, New

Jersey. I was born in New York City in 1925. I went to high

school and graduated in Long Branch, New Jersey. And I went to

some old town there and I didn't have much money. Why? I don't

know why. But I went to the best hotel in one of the better

hotels. I mean, I could've gone to a cheaper place. So I'm in a

hotel room there painting for a few days, and the bellboy said,

"Hey, you know there's a well known woman painter here, who's

well known for her portrait of Abraham Lincoln, for the army, she

did for the army. Would you like her to see your work." I said,

"Of course, bring her around." So she, this guy brings her up,

and the first thing she does is give me a hell for smoking with

turpentine around. Which is true. She is looking at the

painting, I'll just repeat what she said, that's all.

I: Ok.

PB: In fact, it didn't make much, didn't impress me at all. She

looked at the painting. She says, "Look, young man, go to New

York City, get yourself a job, any kind of a job, cleaning

toilets, sweeping floors, anything so you have a place to rent,

and, so you can rent a place to paint. Paint thirty of these

paintings, take them around to the galleries, and maybe,

overnight you'll become a well-known American artist." You know,

these words meant nothing to me. I mean, I was only painting a

few weeks, and didn't even know anything about, but of course it

showed how little I knew about painting. Well, I went to New

York and I did the opposite of what that woman told me. I hung

around in Greenwich Village thinking that was the Bohemian

section, forgetting, not knowing that Greenwich Village was

really the Bohemian section in the twenties when the great

American writers, like Fitzgerald and some of the others were

living there. So I did speak to Maxwell Bodenheim once. Do you

know who he was?

I: No.

PB: He was a rather well known poet in the twenties when I saw

him, but his life was finished by alcohol and, anyway, I felt...

I: How did you meet him?

PB: Well, he was a very reclusive person. He used to walk down

the streets and this woman used to accompany him, and one night

in a place called "San Limos" (Dick would know about that). I am

sitting there with some people and he comes in and sits at the

table and these other people get up and he just stays there.

Well, I saw that he was being very, he wasn't communicative, so I

figured, "well, I'm not gonna force myself on him". But he

started talking to me and I don't think, I mean, I don't recall

what the conversation was, but to me it was one of the

hightlights of my life.

I: Oh, really?

PB: Because before that, I, when I found out, when people told

me who he was, I went down to the New York Public Library and I

immediately looked him up *619 very nice. And a couple of years

ago I went to work on the subway and somebody on the the subway

holds up this newspaper and I see a big headline, I think it was

the "Daily News", "Maxwell Bodenheim murdered by his wife's

lover in their flat in the back". Well, I stayed in the Village

for a while, living in this place for a dollar a day. It was for

old man, poor man who didn't have any money and well, life has

its experiences. I certainly did not do what this woman adviced

me to do and one day in the "Menerez,"* that's another bar there,

I mentioned to this girl, I said, "well, I'm out of bread," and

she said, "well, come live with us." I mean, there was a group

of people living over there on the East side, and she said, "Stay

with us 'till you get on your feet." They had their boyfriends,

girlfriends, fine with me. I remember the boyfriend of one of

the girls, a guy named Tiger Haynes*650, who had a television,

had a group, who played on television. The Four, what was the

group's name? "Four Flames". And Tiger, he was a black fellow,

very nice fellow. I mean, it wasn't necessary to mention he was

black but he was, but he was very nice. He had "The Four

Flames", Tiger Haynes, yeah, Tiger Haynes. I remember once I was

sitting in a circle in Greenwich Village and he comes over to me

and said, "Hey, what you're doing here?" I says, "Well, just

hanging around, you know, and what are you doing?" I said,

"Well, I'm gonna have to sell this suit that I have." He says,

"What?" He said, "You don't sell a suit man, you never know when

you gotta see somebody." You know, in the acting business...

I: Yeah. A suit is...

PB: It's something. He said, "You don't go selling suits, if

you have one suit, you keep it clean, you never know when you

gotta see someone." So he says, "Here, here's five dollars,

don't sell your suit." I said, "No". Ah yeah, his girlfriend

was Elaine. I remember his group, but I forget the name of it,

there was a daughter of some famous Jewish comedian on the East

Side. I forget. Well, then all of the sudden, it did occur to

me, oh yeah, then I started going with this girl. I mean, in

those days, I should've been mature enough to get myself a job

and start painting.

I: As the woman had told you.

PB: Yeah. Or, if I did have, and I did have, still had some of

the GI bill left, so I spent it on so many other things, on

journalism studying that, Foreign Trade. I should have gone to

the Art Students League. In fact, I was accepted by the Art

Students Leagues, but I didn't go.

I: Let me just put this chronology again. You went to the South

Seas.

PB: South seas?

I: No. During the War...You return from the War. What do you do

between the War and your first trip to Mexico City?

PB: Studying in different places, and working at things that I

was completely unable to do like once a guy in my hometown gave

me a job, trying to teach me mechanics and one night I was under

the car trying to do something to the motor,and it fell down, it

fell out, so he decided that mechanics isn't for you, and I used

to come home every night with more grease on me than in the shop.

I: But also, in that time you went to the Latin American

Institute, right? Then you go down to Mexico City for a brief

trip.

PB: No. no. (End of side one)

Side two.

I: After Mexico City you went back up then you started at the

Latin American Institute?

PB: I think in '46. Maybe it was the end of '45. I was

discharged in '45. See, everything was sort of put together. I

worked at different jobs and I don't exactly remember, '45, '46.

The end of '47. If Truman was elected president, it must have

been '47, and then '46 and '45, things were sort of maybe, pushed

together at different places I worked at. And studying in

different, Mamouth * Junior College in New Jersey. So where are

we now?

I: Well, I'm just trying to get. When did you, how did you get

interested to the Latin American Institute?

PB: Well, I had to do something. I had to study. I figured I

had the GI Bill, and I figured Foreign Trade sounded interesting,

so I saw and ad in the New York Times about the school, and..

I: But, what's, I guess my question is what's after the banana

boat ride?

PB: Oh no. It was before.

I: No, this was before. Ok.

PB: Exactly before.

I: Then, you get up, now we are in New York and you are thinking

of the Art Students League. That's where we are. How did you

get interested? Were there a lot of the people you were living

with or the community in the Village?

PB: Ok, let me tell you. I said at that time I should have had

the maturity. I'll try to be more chronological, instead of

jumping around.

I: No, that's ok. I don't care.

PB: And the maturity just to get down to painting though I did

start some painting, and then I met this girl there which was

something, well, started going with her, and even when she told

me, she said to me, "Choose me or art." It's no joke, it's no

joke, I'll tell you why in a few moments, it's no joke, from a

woman's viewpoint. And I was maybe because of emotional

necessity or whatever, in my heart, I know I should've said,

"well, look we can`t, I'm gonna, I wanna be an artist. With me

you're not gonna have any future." So I chose her. And that was

life's experience, but it was a mistake for both of us

definitely.

I: I didn't know you were going to say that. I thought.

PB: Uh?

I: I thought you were going to say you chose art.

PB: No, I didn't. So we got married, and some years later I

left her, of course. But I remember once she said, speaking from

a woman's viewpoint, I remember once in desperation, she said, "I

wish, you know Phil, I wish you had a lover, I wish you had

another woman because if you had another woman, a lover, I can

scratch her eyes, I can beat the hell out of her, I can do

something. But this obsession you have, this obsession you have

for art I can't fight it. I'm helpless against it. So that's

why it's important.

I: I see, no joke.

PB: You can see that. I mean, a person, a woman wants

attention, wants love, and actually, I mean.

I: Had you started the Arts Students League?

PB: No.

I: No, you were just painting.

PB: What happened was, I realized, I found out I did have some,

I had the few years left on the GI Bill of Rights about two years

maybe more, and I went to the Veteran's Administration to see if

they could let me [cut], they showed it to someone whom they said

was an expert, to the Veteran's Administration, and they said,

"the person who looked at your work feels that you certainly have

the ability to go to study art, you have it." They saw those

first paintings I did. "Fine," I said, "the Arts Students League.

Then, another thinking, I mean, one has to be mature, one has to

be definite, and because things influence you. Many times if you

are a weak character like I was and to some degree I still am,

you know, sometimes the wind pushes you this way, or that way,

and you just have to, some things you just have to ignore, if you

have them in your mind. This fellow tried to convince me to go

to a commercial art school. And he did. He said, "look if you

go to a commercial art school," gave me that stupid old

statement, "or you can you do your own painting when you have

your free time and make money with commercial art," which is the

most stupidest damn thing in the world. I mean, you just don't

mix things, that's all. I mean if you're gonna paint for your

own just for your own pleasure to rest, which is fine, you may do

wonderful things as good as anybody, as good as any so- called

professional artist, uh? But the mental attitude is like one is

hot water, and one is cold water and I went to this commercial

art school, called "The Franklin School of Commercial Art." I

should have chosen, I should've told them, I said, "I want Fine

Arts and that`s it." I should have gone to the Art Student's

League. So, uh?

I: But, I suppose what could have influenced your opinion is

really you didn't really have that much money. You knew the GI

Bill was going to run out.

PB: Oh, either school I would've gone to, I would`ve gotten the

same money.

I: No, but I mean, but he was trying to convince you that

someday you were going to graduate, and you could make some money

being a commercial artist.

PB: That's what, that's his whole point which was very foolish

when you come down to reality.

I: But at the time to you, it sounded pretty good?

PB: Well, I was sort of influenced.

I: Yeah, yeah.

PB: So let me say it that way. I just didn't have because I

said, "Look, this is what I want." I knew absolutely nothing

about the art world, about artists or painters or anything. I

knew nothing about what it was all about.

I: As a kid, you had never taken any art?

PB: Oh, no.

I: Never.

PB: So, I went to this commercial art school. I remember I

walked in there, it was on Park Avenue and the first day at the

school, I showed these people the work I had, and the directors

of the school said, "Jesus, what, look at this. This is

creative, this is something." About two, three months later, the

only class I, after a while, I mean, after a while, I mean,

sitting in those classes doing package designs and everything,

just bored the hell out me and the only class I really enjoyed

was the new figure class. Finally, I was thrown out of the

school because I stopped going, and I remember the school said,

"Gee, we don't know what happened to you. When you showed us the

work when you came with, the work was so good, so creative and

now, what, what happpened?" I didn't know enough then to say,

"well, it's not my fault, it's your fault, the way you people do

things." Which is true. Then I, well I still had a couple of

years left in this GI bill so I went to a very good school

called, "Saddie* Brown Secretarial Institute". Don't laugh.

Saddie Brown was a very wealthy woman in New York, in fact, I

don't think she owned city blocks om mid-town Manhattan, and her

goal in life was to help the veterans from World War II. Now, in

New York City, then and even now, I'm sure, and even here in

Mexico City, a good executive, male secretary can make very good

money, 'cause he's the secretary to the boss of the company, and

he is being trained for, many times being trained for an

executive position. So I spent two years becoming an executive,

male secretary. I dropped the accounting course which I just

couldn't take that. And I kept doing my sketches. I remember

there was a friend of mine, a guy named John Lebro *, I used to

show my sketches, and he used to love them, and I got in

shorthand, I got to do about a hundred words a minute. Well, I

finished the school. Come to think of it maybe shorthand had

something to do with drawing too, uh?

I: Yeah.

PB: When I think of it, the forms and everything, and Mrs. Brown

was a very direct woman. She used to tell us when we graduated,

when we finished. I don't know if I passed the last test or not.

I don't think I got a diploma. I did all the work. She says,

"Look, when I send you out for a job, when you walk into an

office, and if there's something you don't like about the place,

maybe you just don't like the way the boss smiles, or you don't

like his right eye, or his left eye, just say goodbye and come

back here and I'll send you out to another job." She said, "I'll

get you the job that's for you." Can you imagine that? And she

did it. I remember the first job I had. It was for a music

publishing company with, the boss calls me over to, the head of

the department calls me over to his desk and he looks at me,

shakes his head, he says, "Phil, you don't know anything about

working in an office, do you?" He says, "you don't do the things

that you do," And I'm thinking what things, "Look, at five

minutes to six you don't come over and ask me what work is it to

do, or something," Something, something, some stupid things, I

did. He said, " I wanna help you, I really wanna help you, I

mean. You seem to be a fish out of the water here. What are your

interests?" I said, "Well, my interest is art." He got a blank

face. I mean, he kind of wanted to help me, but I mentioned art.

That he didn't know what. So I'm actually, that was, I think I

was fired in a very nice way. I go back to Saddie Brown, sends

me to another place, a small company. I worked there for a floor

carpeting company as a secretary for a while, then I went to

another company, for importing, exporting. A guy named * was the

boss, and I stayed there for about a year. Then one day I just

didn't go into work. I was always thinking about going, coming

down to Mexico and painting. And that I have any romantic ideas

about Mexico because I don't, and I don't have any romantic ideas

about painting or anything like that. To me it's. I mean,

painters' lives as Roger Von Gunmten mentioned to me once,

(that's one of his paintings) "By necessity it's a dramatic

life." I mean, even, it's the act of creation that's dramatic.

That's just the way it is. And you might not, may not do a lot

of things that go here or go there, but what goes on inside of

you when you're drawing or painting, it's a drama there, no

matter how you do it. Wheter you paint expressionism strong like

me or just paint very night very calm things but there's a drama

going on there. So, there I get back to the subway, I told you

about that, no? Want me to repeat it for this?

I: Ah, sure.

PB: All right, I go faster because it's important.

I: Yes, it is.

PB: So, this was in August of 1954 again. First week. Although

it must, it was a month before August, July. I spent the last

few days. I'm not supposed to remember that.

I: Me neither.

PB: They're supposed to be the last few days of July because I

arrived in Mexico City on August 5, 1954 this time and I'm in the

subway station trying to decide what I'm gonna do. Take off for

Mexico and paint and go to work again like I've done everyday

with the last couple of years. So I decided, "Well, I'm going to

let the subway decide." Well, one side was the express that was

going to, I had to go downtown, where the office was, and the

other side was the local going the other way. And I figured,

"well, the express comes first, I get on the express and go to

work like every day, and dissolve this problem next week like

I've done for years, several years. And if the local comes in,

I'll get on that and I go back to work, I go back to my

apartment, to the apartment, I pack a few things and take off,"

So I wait for the trains to come in and it seemed like an

eternity and, low and behold, you know, sometimes you should not

wait for God or anyone else to make your decisions. You have to

make them. The two trains came in exactly at the same time. And

I'm standing there and all of a sudden I felt like a hand pushing

me and I went in to the local one. Once my mind was made up I

went home. Packed some things in the suitcase. I only got one

suitcase and went down to the Greyhound bus station. I said,

"Get me a one-way ticket to Mexico." And the fellow says, "and

your return ticket?~ I said, "Never." And I just got on the

bus, I just sat on that bus for the next, I think it was four

days and five nights, or five days and four nights, a long trip.

From there to St. Louis, to San Antonio, Laredo, Texas and I got

to Mexico.

I: That's a great story. Now, I'm glad that's on tape. When

you were in New York, was there any, any mention of Mexican art?

Any shows of Mexican Art or anything?

PB: No. I never knew any shows. I didn't even knew what they

looked like.

I: And when you had been in Mexico City that first trip?

PB: No, that time, the very first in '46 the highlight of that

trip was in this boarding house I was living at, and *187 I met

this movie actor, he is dead now, Rodolfo Acosta. He is, he was

a, he worked here and in Hollywood in the acting bussiness he's

known, and he and I got along fine.

I: So when you came here, obviously Roger Von Gunten is...

PB: Oh, he wasn't here then.

I: He wasn't here then? When did he arrive here?

PB: Some years afterwards.

I: Oh. What did you first do? In terms of art.

PB: You mean paintingwise?

I: Yeah, did you go to school? Did you enroll in classes or?

PB: Yeah, Well, I think I have my first painting I did in

Mexico.

I: Oh great. Terrific!

PB: If I can find it.

I: So, anyway, we're talking about two paintings, the first two

paintings that you did.

PB: Well, this is not, this I did some months later.

I: Ok, but some of the first two you that you did when you

arrived in Mexico.

PB: Yeah. This is really the first one, I think.

I: So anyway, you were saying that you were in Mexico City,

but...

PB: Look, look what I am painting there.

I: It's New York.

PB: Yeah. In here I have 42nd St., Times Square, and I have the

buildings and the garbage can. You can analyze it if you want

to.

I: I won't dare. This is great, though.

PB: Oh, it's just one little comment that I'd like to make here,

getting back to the time when I spent a month or so in the

Village. One day it did occur to me, and alot of the people I

knew are very fine people. I mean, they have their problems and

hangups and all that, but they're wonderful people. As I say, if

you needed help or anything, they didn't ask questions or

anything,you know, very fine...,There was this fellow Tiger

Haynes who had this group The Four Flames. Other people that I

met there in New York, I realize they were using art for reasons.

For instance, they used art as an excuse, an excuse to hate

society, as an excuse for promiscuity, as an excuse for drinking.

I mean, if somebody ask you, "What are you doing?" "I'm an

artist." Nobody is gonna question, you know? And it occured to

me, "I don't need art as an excuse to do any of these things."

If I wanted to do them, I would do them, but not for the sake of

doing just doing them, not using art as an excuse, as a cover,

you understand me. I mean, I wasn't interested in those things,

but if I wanted to go into anything like that, hell, you do it,

not to say, "Look, I'm an artist," as my cover, no?

`

I: Yeah, therefore.

PB: So therefore, I mean when I left the Village, sort of, I

went to live over there at the YMCA for a while and, before I

started working in this restaurant. I got more work done. But

the point I'm making is that a lot of people would use, who don't

take, they say they're artists. Not everybody, uh, but they use

it as an excuse, as an excuse to not to do anything, as an excuse

to, I mean.

I: Well, I want to hear about, you get to Mexico, and when did

you start getting involved and how did you start getting involved

in the art world here?

PB: Well, I didn't start getting involved in the art world until

after I finished shool.

I: So you went to school?

PB: Oh, yeah. I went to "Esmeralda." The school of painting

and sculpture, Escuela de Pintura y Escultura.

I: Ok. That's important. Who were your teachers there? I

mean, who were the ones who were...?

bPB: Iganacio Aguirre,

I: Of course,

PB: My first teacher there. Raul Anguiano, Nefero,

I: You mean Aceves Navarro?

PB: No,no Nefero. I forget his firt name.

I: That's ok.

PB: Robledo

I: How do you spell his name?

PB: Robledo. I forget his firt name. Benito Messaguer..

I: You need to spell this.

PB: Benito Messaguer, I think. For short time in the class of

Carlos Orozco Romero, for a short time. Avelardo Avila.

I: We can check it later.

PB: Avelardo Avila, the full name simplest. We had the good

ones. Oh, yeah. Who was this guy who adored Frida Kahlo? What

the hell was his goddamn name? Well, and then there was Alfredo.

Well, Alfredo Lang was director of the school. Pedro Castellar,

photography, ah, Isidoro Ocampo, Dick has some work of his, you

know? And, a clay-modeling class for about a week or two, with

Juan Cruz, but I left the class. Just a week or two weeks.

I: You were there four years. Is that how long...

PB: From 1959, August 1959 to, right from August 1954 to 1959.

I: Ok. Who were some of your classmates? I mean, who were

important?

PB: Gilberto Aceves Navarro, Tomas Parra. Hey, you gotta go see

his show at the IFAL. Don't miss it. It opened last night. You

know where it is, no? On Nazas. You don't know where the French

Institute is on Nazas?

I: Oh, I know. Yes, I do. And I wanted to go to that because

it's right near my house.

PB: Yeah, you live near, don't you? I was sort of surprised you

weren't there last night.

I: I didn't go.

PB: Go see the show. I think it's a great show, and it's a very

important show.

I: Ok. I really wanted to go to that, damn it. Well.

PB: This fellow has been painting like that the way he's painted

for years but I think now he's really gotten something in his

work.

I: So he was one of your classmates?

PB: Let me see who else. Luis Lopez Losa. Corzas. Nieto. The

Golden Age kiddo.

I: This was the Golden Age. It really was. So, what was it

like? It must have been incredible because I mean, this is what

you had wanted all these years, and then you come at the...

PB: It couldn't have happened any place else in the world. I

got here and after, I remember, in this hotel I'm, I was

wondering, "where the hell are any art schools around here?"

Well, I, so this hotel I paid five pesos a day for a clean room.

It was clean. I'm standing up on the balcony of my room one day,

and I see this guy walking across the street with the canvas

under his arm, turned out to be Juan Lopez Moctezuma, you

probably know who he is, but he, I think he is in Paris now, but

he was a radio, he had his own television show, you know, later

on, and he is from the family of Carlos Lopez Moctezuma, the

actor, so I see this fellow, carrying this canvas. Well, when I

see a canvas I'm instinctively drawn to it like a magnet. So I

rushed out of the room and I just follow the guy, and he turns

the corner, and there's the art the school. As if I was supposed

to be there, yeah, the hotel was on this side of the street...

I: "Esmeralda" on the other.

PB: Right on the other side. I didn't even know. I had been

there a couple of weeks, I didn't even know it was there.

I: That's incredible.

PB: I see this guy with the canvas, he was walking with some

other people, and I turned around there, and saw, there, I go

into the art school.

[Break]

PB: Well, in those days, "Esmeralda" was an open school. I

remember I paid fifty pesos a month. My wife being Mexican, she

was studying there at night, paid five peses. But for that $50

which at that time I think was four bucks. I went to that school

from sometimes from seven or eight in the morning, at 7:00 on the

days we had anatomy classes. That reminds me of the time I dug

up the body. I didn't tell you about it, did I? Did I?

I: No.

PB: I dug up a body, a body is a body, that's all.

I: Yeah, ok, sure.

PB: So, anyway, I got official permission from the government to

do it. So, I went in, I went in there and I remember Sr.

Duen~as was the like, head of the, I think Alfredo Lang was

director at that time. Duenas was a very nice man, and he said,

"Well, what do you wanna do?" I said, "I want to take drawing

classes." So why don't you go and he gave me the list of

teachers and sent me to these teachers and, "Look, if they let

you in the class, if they have room, you can go in." So I did

that. So for five years, everyday pr actically I went there

and I was drawing sometimes from 7:00 in the morning, usually

from 8:00 in the morning to 9:00 at night to the last class which

was Raul Anguiano's, and working everyday, everyday, everyday,

everyday, everyday.

I: And your Spanish is pretty good?

PB: What? My Spanish is bad. When I made that trip on the

horse I knew four words of Spanish, and then this time, I was too

interested in art, looking and looking. I couldn't myself down

to study. I just learned my Spanish as I went by, but I was

concentrating on art all the time.

I: Now, how were you living. I mean, it's cheap, but it's...

PB: Well, I had an income, money saved etc. Oh, about $700,

$750 pesos a month. I paid rent for a nice little apartment in

Colonia Navarrte*, food, clothes, and tuition, paper and

sometimes there was even a little left over for a movie. It was a

different world in those days. To buy a torta was a banquet, not

like the little scrungy things, scrungy things they give you now.

It's a disgrace.

I: So anyway, when was your first exhibit?

PB: Well, in 1960. I gave you a...

I: Yeah, I've got one. Oh, I have a catalogue. I mean, I have

your catalogue.

PB: I don't that that is complete?

I: Ah, probably not, but it does highlight some stuff anyway.

PB: The first exhibit was at the Mexican Norteamerican

Institute. Well, I've been teaching English for 27 years up

until today. Today I put in, my resignation.

I: Resignation.

PB: I handed in my papers and I quit. This morning.

I: What made you finally decide? I mean, I knew you wanted to,

I mean, after all.

PB: Well, look, for a little money there is in the bank and what

they give me as liquidation, it would sort of amount to the

salary I would get there. The interest, you know?

I: Yeah, yeah.

PB: So, I mean, it's not such a couragous thing I'm doing by no

means but if I'm quitting at this moment, I'm not going to be out

on the street by no means. I don't about three years from now

how the economic situation in Mexico changes, but we'll worry

about that when it comes. But it'd be absolutely foolish for me

to continue.

I: Because of the time?

PB: Well, another thing. For years, and years and years, I've

always had the energy of a wolf. You know, I mean, I can go and

teach three, four hours, and give all my energy and all of myself

to my class, and then go home and paint for two or three hours,

but I find it a little more difficult to do that specially since

that accident 'cause that accident really, as you know it's a

horrible thing, and a car accident, the car that hit us, and when

your bones are shaken up that way it just takes the energy away

from you. I think it sort of affects your mind. I mean, in the

sense you think slower sometimes. Now that happened to me 'cause

I know for a long time after that, sometimes I'd be sitting here

talking, or I'd just be sitting doing something, painting or what

and all of a sudden, I'd feel like a wet, damp crshed rag and all

of a sudden all the energy would be going. Doctors have told me

that that happens to a lot of people who have accidents like. It

happened to my wife too. She's still not over the effects of it.

I: I know. And the thing she cut her thumb...

PB: And then this goddamn, this thing with the hand is a serious

thing because...

I: Yeah, I know.

PB: Because it was something that happened in the office where

she works, and one of those freak accidents.

I: A stupid accident. Yeah.

PB: Yeah, it can happen to anybody.

I: Oiy. Well. So.

PB: So those days at La Esmeralda were just great.

I: Oh, I bet those were fantastic.

PB: And what happpened was after six months at school, they had

great teachers, some of them I disagreed with their ideas in the

way of teaching and everything, but I had a few teachers like, oh

God...

I: You want to look at the list again?

PB: Hell, I can't think of his name. Alfonso. Put his name

down, it's important. Alfonso Ayala. Now this man, taught in

such a way that if you're doing a model of a basket you had to

put every little thing and every little pelito, every little hair

on the hand, and that's just the opposite of my character. I

remember one day I walked into his class, and I saw a bench there

on the floor and I put the bench and I kicked the bench like

this, a smaller one, you know, and it rolled to the other end of

the floor as if I had kicked a football and he came over to me

and said, "Look, Philipe, you do this again and you don't ever

come into my class." And he was right. Ok. I said, "Yeah, ok,

I apologize and it will never happen again." And then I remember

one day I was drawing, I forget in whose class, and I felt very

frustated because I couldn't get the whole figure together. I

couldn't get the knee into the figure, so I walked out of class

and went out to the street and practically started crying and for

a 29 year old man, I start crying, it's childish as all hell...

I: But you were frustated.

PB: So, then I remember four informal classes I had in the

sketch class of the Art Students League on contour drawing.

*Nicoladius' idea, you know about that?

I: No.

PB: I mean, the man just gave us the essentials of it, the bare

essentials of it, but I remember the fourth day I went into that

class. This was while I was working as a male executive, male

secretary which I would do at night once in a while.

I: Here in Mexico?

PB: No, in New York. Before I came to Mexico.

I: In New York, ok.

PB: And I remember. I can still see the picture in my mind of

this figure. The figure was all falling apart, but I could see,

and I said, "I'm getting it." And it was for four days of

contour drawing. And that's all. Hi, Rick, how are you [cut].

PB: Where were we?

bI: You were at the, you saw this dicombobulated figure and you

said after four days...

PB: Yeah, this was long before, a few months before I came to

Mexico.

I: Right.

PB: So this day I walked out of class at La Esmeralda, I had

been there three months or six months and I remember those

lessons, and I went back to my classes and for the next four and

a half years I did practically nothing but contour drawing, just

concentrating on the models. Concentrate. Of course once in a

while I made what's called an academic drawing 'cause contort

drawing is really exercises combined with action drawing to

prepare you to do, well, to draw academically if you want to,

draw realistically if you want to, or to draw, be abstract or

whatever you want. But it teaches you to see, teaches you to

feel with your mind, your eyes, your feeling, your hand, and your

model, without prejudices, without ideas, "well, this should be

this way, and that should be that way." But you see in your own

way how things are, how they really are. Of course, if you do

that, you'll see them, how they really are according to your

vision. Each person that does the contour drawing sees things

in, according to their own vision. And each person is right.

I: And the contour drawing came out of Nicoladius', This is

Nicoladius?

PB: Well, he was the young guy that formulated to put that into

a course.

I: Yeah.

PB: I mean, people had done contour drawing for years. ( Tomasso

[the cat] will get on the tape too? That's good. Hey, you're

gonna be in her thesis cat. The cat's name is Tomas Von Gunten

because Roger Von Gunten gave it to me.) So and I remember in

the class of, who was the fellow I mentioned, the last teacher?

I: Alfonso Ayala.

PB: I went back to his class. Some of the teachers, well, they

put up with me because after a while, I wasn't taking the regular

courses, I wasn't studying for the certificate, and they figured,

"well, it's just another American down here doing...As long as I

didn't cause any trouble, they let me work like I wanted to work,

and Ayala, and so all my years in La Esmeralda I look at some of

the work I did then. I find that some of the work in his class

was the best. Why? Because he really had an understanding of

the students. I mean, he knew what people who really didn't know

anything, that didn't have what they wanted to do, he was tough

with them and he had it do it this way, and that way and the

other way. But he realized that when I was older than the other

kids, and he must have realized that I had something inside of

me, pushing me, so I was always working, so he didn't, the only,

after that experience with the bench, I stayed in his class, and

he only criticized me when I asked him. He helped me when I

asked him, and I there were quite a few times when I did. Every

once in a while.

I: Yeah.

PB: So it was from him I learned how to understand and feel out a

student. Because later on when I headed this art department for

the United States international university here in Mexico, I

learned that, remember on how each student you have to feel the

person out and to try to get at what he, he or she wants to do,

and guide them along those lines, not along how you think.

I: Well, that's interesting because he was the most, Alfonso

Ayala, the most, you mentioned he wanted you to paint every hair

on the body...

PB: Well, he wanted his students to do that.

I: Yeah, but in the long run, he was the one, really, who had

the most influence, I think.

PB: Well, Nacho Aguirre had a big influence, Anguiano too, but

in the sense, he had a great influence on me without saying

anything.

I: Now you did eventually get...You did finish the Esmeralda?

PB: Well, I just stayed for 59, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59,five

years, that's all.

I: And you graduated?

PB: No, I didn't get a degree or anything. I didn't. I just

took the courses that I wanted to take. I mean, I couldn't get

myself down and sit down study art history, or techniques of

painting. I didn't have the patience for all that. In those

days, my God, in the painting class they gave us the stretchers,

the bastadores, and the canvas, and we used to prepare our own

canvases there, gave us paper. In the United States art schools

don't give materials, do they?

I: You pay...

PB: Yeah, they gave them to us.

I: You pay.

PB: Now I understand.... So, I stayed in the school working day

after day, after day, after day, of course, drawing day and night

in the streets all over, [the cat] is saying hello, and working

at home, sometimes he scratches [the cat], and we used to have a

model in the shool and then on Saturdays she used to come and

pose for me and I'd give her a few pesos.

I: Who is this?

PB: A model that we had at shool. The work was my, continuosly

drawing, it's the only way you get anything done.

I: Well, so when you started working at the Instituto Mexicano

Norteamericano [the language school], that's when you had your

exhibit there, or did you have your first exhibit before you

began teaching.

PB: No, it was afterwords. What happened was I already to go

back to New York, in fact, Carlotta really wanted to go.[Tape is

cut] Anyway, those days were days of gold.

I: Yeah, they were. Well, that too. After five years of just

being at Esmeralda all the time, then, what happened?

PB: Well, I was gonna leave in a, I was gonna stay here in

Mexico, and just paint a couple a years. Well, my second year,

Carlottta and I got married, and we...

I: She was a student?

PB: Yeah. She's done some beautiful work.

I: Beautiful.

PB: But working at, she's working as a secretary all day, and

it's more than a secretary in this office she works in and, well,

she's had her problems too, you know, and the time, the big enemy

of a painter, of an artist, to any person is time. That's why

sometimes, to other people, artists seem very selfish, but

sometimes.

I: There's a reason.

PB: I don't know. [Talks to his son] So, so anyway...

I: So after five years, well, so got married to Carlotta.

PB: Well, that was the second year.

I: Yeah, the second year, and then you had three more years at

Esmeralda.

PB: And then, yeah, we moved from Navarrate. That's another

exciting, dramatic experienc, that will take a good hour to tell

you. But it's worth listening to. And then, we moved out to San

Angel. That's when Victor was born and, it was out there, I even

said to her, "Well, you know, I gotta go back to the States."

Make the fight as an artist in New York. She was all ready to

go. She wanted to go. Oh, it would be a new experience for her,

and I think she would have done very well because she's a top-

notch secretary. I mean, in her office, she is almost like the

office manager of the section she worksin, and I think as a

Spanish secretary and knowing some English, she would have done

very well in New York. Well, anyway, one day I'm walking out to

San Angel and I see this English school for boys, primary school,

I said, "Hey, do you need," I speak to the head of the English

Department, I've been talking to him for quite a while, "Do you

need any drawing teachers?" He said, "No I don't need any

drawing teacher, I need an English teacher." I said, "Look my

friend, I don't know a verb from an adverb and I don't frankly

care what's a verb, what's an adverb, an adjective, and when they

go, and how they go, I just don't give a damn." He said, "Look,

I want you for kindergarten kids," and he shows my all these kids

there, and I look at them. "It'd be nice if I come in and teach

them how to say hello, Mommy, hello Daddy, Merry Christmas, and

teach them simple songs, and all that. I said, "Ok, I'll take

the job." I remember this girl I knew in the States. She had a

degree in Spanish from New York University, I think a Master's,

and before she taught, you know, two years of observation, or

whatever it is and then to practice teaching, then you teach your

own class, then you go into teach sixth grade. So, about a month

later, the guy calls me back. and he says, "Professor, I have a

class for you." And I said, "Oh," and he said, "Yeah, but it's

not the kindergarten as I had promised you. Seems we have a

sixth grade that no one can handle, in fact, we had to fire the

teacher because he hit one of the kids." And I thought, "Ay,

poor teacher." No, I thought, "Mean teacher, hitting a kid." I

changed my mind. I never hit a kid, but I've twisted heads and a

couple of heads together, so, "and that's your class." Next week

I walked into the class, I see all these kids sitting in front of

me and I'm at the teacher's desk. I didn't know what to say. My

stomach was opened like this. I mean, right off the street teach

a sixth grade. I said this girl I knew in New York, she had to

practice teach, she had to be observed, had to be graded and

write a bunch of papers, on how to teach and child pshychology,

etc. etc. and here I am in sixth grade, right off the street. I

mean, a friend of mine here, from California, he said, " be tough

with them at the beginning." He was right, man.

I: So ever since that year, did you teach English steadily up

until recently, really.

PB: Yeah, up until today. Well, before I started out this

ocassion. So, anyway,

I: So that's for about, how many years? Thirty years about.

PB: Twenty seven. I'd say about twenty eight. Yeah, twenty

eight. I've been at the Institute twenty seven. So in the

meantime, some of my ex-teachers of Esmeralda wanted me to give

them English classes. So I gave them the classes in the anatomy

room in San Carlos. Oh, boy that was a riot. Jesus Christ!

I: Did they want to learn English because they thought someday

of going to the States?

PB: I don't know but they wanted to learn it. I didn't learn

much, but I still laugh at it. I mean, they were a bunch of wise

guys, I mean, we used to...

PB: *1at that time, can you imagine it? And, but at the same

time, I decided to * I will, I will, they had a course at the

Instituto then, it was a one-month course, twenty day, one month

course on how to teach English as a Second Language. So I took

the course, and ok, I learned to *, a guy from the University of

Michigan, who started this idea in ESL, I think English as a

Second Language, he had a, I imagine, I mean, he did'nt influence

me in any way.

I: No, but just for the person transcribing.

PB: I mean, I learned who he was, and then I forgot him just as

fast. So, and I took the course, it was interesting. Well, to me

it wasn't interesting or not. In some things, that helped me out

because I was in the course, then immediately, I went down to San

Carlos to teach my former teachers, so I applied what we, what I

did to say, between 5:00 and 6:00, and then from 7:00 to 8:00 I

immediately applied it in the class which is good, no?

I: Yeah,

PB: I mean, we even had to learn phonetics, and I must have

passed the phonetics test because I never used it in my classes.

I don't know anything about that. So, ok, the last day of class,

I said, "goodbye, thank you." I go. I didn't even make an

application for this job to teach, I never quit*20. It's so

late, I came home, Chapultepec with some friends in San Angel

where we lived like the house where we lived in coming here, but

we moved back to the same house twenty five years later. And we

find this dirty little *22 under the door coming to a teachers'

meeting. They don't hire teachers that way now. It's so

different. Sunday, * teachers who'd go * so I go there, so they

give me some classes. Oh, yeah, I remember director of courses.

He says, "Look Phil, the only course I can give is a course

seven." That's with adjective courses, past perfect, you know

all that*27? Well, I taught it because I used to be the teacher's

guide the night before my next class, and I still can't explain

adjective courses, but I've been teaching them for years. I get

a*30. I try to get my work *visually and dramatically that is

in their minds not with the thinking and remembering a lot of

rules and regulations, but when a kid asked me a question, I

looked up, I gave him an answer, or I* 33 the next day. So,

anyway, so one day they call me and then I started teaching.

Now, in those days it was very nice because I, 1959, because I

could teach a few hours, I tought a few hours at the Institute in

the morning, *36 all the way to San Angel on the bus or on the

trolley, in those days were the trolley, and then I worked for

three, hours on Woodcuts* because as you noticed in the 59 and

the sixties, it's when I did most of my woodcuts, and then, I'd

take a fast shower and eat lunch and rush all the way back down,

down again, teach a couple of hours at night. I mean now, I

can't seem to do that. Of course, I'm older now to.

I: Well, now it takes two hours to get down there.

PB: Yeah, here it's not too difficult to get there, but now I

find it rather difficult even combining the two different ways of

thinking, you know, teaching, I mean, there's one thing, art is

another thing. It's just like, oh, that is one thing, and

everything else is something else. And I'm sorry it's the truth.

I'm not sorry, it's just the way it is.

I: A good true.

PB: What?

I: It's a good true.

PB: Would you like another cup of tea?

I: No thanks.

PB: Another piece of bread?

I: No, because I'll eat it.

PB: You want one?

I: No, no really. Thank you.

PB: I'm on a diet, not you.

I: I know. I'm the one who's gonna have to be on a diet *49.

PB: Oh, for God's sake, just put on a few pounds. I mean, you

look fine, but it won't kill you. All right.

I: No, no. Actually, I need to ask to ask you some questions

about showing. Your first few shows were at the Institute,

right?

PB: My first one. I only had one one main show, then.

I: Oh. And then when, how would you describe starting to

exhibit in Mexico, which sort of led up to this big show that you

just had?

PB: Oh, everything lead up to.

I: Yeah, so how did you.

PB: "Describe", I don't understand.

I: Well, what is it, how does one, how do you, let's start with

your first show. How did you get it?

PB: It was very easy then. Look, I was a teacher there, and I

saw this fellow, Antonio Sosa, who some years later I exhibited

in his gallery, one of the most important galleries in Mexico at

that time. Antonio didn't, for some reason, only wanted to

exhibit paintings in his gallery, not prints, he said, "I don't

like reproduction." Well, there was lot of important painting

show *63 later on. So, he said, "have your first show at the

Institute." "Antonio, they had other shows. I don't like most

of the shows they have." He said, "well, that has nothing to do

with you. You have your show. It's a good place to start. They

give, they make the invitations for you, the publicity, they give

you a cocktail, you don't have to put up a dime, unless you want

some special invitations or something." I went to the woman who

was the directora, the director of activities, and I said, "look

I'd like to show." She says, "fine."

I: And that was that.

PB: "When do you want the show." I only had a few prints then.

And I said, "next year, I don't know." I think 59, 60. I said

"in a year." Because I don't like to have a show on top of it, I

have to work for the show, no. So in year I had enough workout

prints. There's one that was in the show that time, this one,

and I had the first show there. And that's why

I: Now, was that show reviewed?

PB: Oh, yeah. I got a few clippings some place. If I can find

them. And got reviews, by good critic *80 Margarita Narkin, she's

dead now.

I: Margarita who?

PB: Narkin, and that was the time when I saw the happy*83

plastic, excuse me, artist plastic as a Bellas Artes and I said

to him,

I: * he came to the *

PB: No, no, no. Later on *. "What do I need for an exhibition

at Bellas Artes." He said, "let me see your work." This fellow

named Salas Anzures, very nice man, I take him my work the next

day, he looks at it, "when do you want your show?" I should've

said, "tomorrow." I said, "well," thinking more like an artist,

"in three months." Because I figured, "I'll put some of the same

work from the Institute plus new work." I always had the feeling

each show should be not just throwing things up, each show

should show something, I don't know something more, show like

you're working, let's put it that way. But in the meantime, they

changed jefe the artes plasticas, some fellow named Flores

Sanchez wouldn't give me the show for anything. And even I went

to the States and I come back from the States, and I said, "look,

I got a curriculum now, New York Public Library, other places,

University of California in Los Angeles County Museum, at San

Francisco Art Museum." That time bought prints from me but he

still wouldn't give me the show. So I just walked out and I

never asked him a favor since then.

I: So in between then, you went back to New York. You went back

to the States, and sold some of your work?

PB: Oh, yeah. A couple of times, yeah.

I: How did you do that? I mean, just because I have no idea,

step by step.

PB: Well, what I did when I went to New York. I remember when

you go out to the galleries, they look at your work, and they

say, "I can't sell this." And they say, "this is not what's

being done in New York, and this is too strong." Without

I: Now, what are bringing them, original*107, ok.

PB: Prints, oh yeah, prints, woodcut prints. Those arguments,

in those days after a while telling them to go to hell because I

got sick and tired of all this crap. The stupid comments of

these idiots who owned the galleries, most of them, not all of

them. There's some nice good gallery owners up in New York, but

most of them, presumptuous, I can't use the word here because of

that thing.

I: We can turn it off.

PB: Presumptuous, and they treat the artists as if the artists

were dirt. But, I mean, if a gallery tells me, "look"

I: And this is in the sixties?

PB: Yeah, if the gallery tells me, "I don't like the work." I

accept that, fine. The gallery says, "I can't handle any more

artists." I accept that, fine. But when they tell me, "I can't

sell it," that's baloni because the only reason they can't sell

it's they're not good enough. They're not good enough dealers

because my work can be sold, and there are people who like it.

They have to work at it. So, there's somebody, a friend of my,

this guy, remember I told you, William Wat*120 with the *.

William *,

I: Yeah, right. Yeah.

PB: I think he had work in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and

good galleries in New York. In fact, he was even sueing a

gallery, I remember at that time when I met him.

I: For what reason?

PB: I don't, money problems. So, he says to me, "*125 there's

this film * in New York Public Library." I said, "what do you

mean, they have books, I don't have books." He said, "they have

a great *126." So one day * and I go to the New York Public

Library, and the guy who was cured to prints* there was a man

named Karl Kupp who at that time was a very important man in the

print world. I didn't know that. I didn't know anything.

I: Karl

PB: Kuppp. Karl Kupp. They had a great print collection.

Years back, I mean, picks up this print about musicos*134 while

it was set, he said, " I wanna buy this from the collection here.

How much is it?" I could've said, "$200." I could've gotten it.

told him, "$40." He says, "fine." You know it's hard to put

prices on your work, and. Took me a long time to put prices, the

prices I have now, and still are not expensive in relation to the

art world so to speak. So, then I got the idea, "Well, I'm gonna

go myself to museums." I'd gone to a lot of them. From the

Philadelphia Art Museum, they didn't buy anything, all right?

And I, my wife and I went to California in the same trip, I went

to the Los Angeles County Museum. They bought a print, San

Francisco Art Museum, they bought a print, "La Procesion." You

have this in the list I'm gonna give you.

I: Ok

PB: And the University of California, I went there, and a man, I

have a book that he wrote on modern art, one of the professors,

he looked at the work, and he said, "well, I have to show this to

a group of professors." I guess maybe he felt he couldn't make

the decision himself. I*150 work with him, then we turned to

work it in one, they bought a print. So, the way I sold prints

to collectors, to organizations, to libraries. Well, the New

York Public Library is the only library, to museums. I myself

went. Like at the University of California they had a lending

library of prints. I sat outside that, the director, the head of

the library's office for a day, maybe two days. Then, one of the

secretaries came out and says, "Jesus, Mr. So, " I forget his

name, "doesn't know what to do because in the whole history of

this university you are the first person that came to sell him

something directly." So they sent me to this professor of art,

who was a very well known man, I didn't know that.

I: But they had a museum. You knew they had one.

PB: Well, they had a lending library of prints for students.

They could take that print home and study it and look at it. And

so they bought a print, so this professor. I have a book

by him someplace. I don't if I have it here, or I left it up in

the second land. But they bought the print eventually. So, the

way I did this, I went to these places alone. Of course you have

to be prepared to take "no" for an answer too.

I: Sure. But your nep. Not your nephew, your cousin had the

idea of going to the New York Public Library.

PB: No, it was my idea.

I: That was your idea.

PB: All this going to these places was my idea. I *170 my

cousin to help me out, to give me a place to stay in New York, in

New Jersey, and where I could keep my work, and he helped me out

in other ways, too. Even helped me out somewhat financially,

too, when I was at, I mean, he didn't say what to do and what not

to do.

I: Of all your cousins, how did you get to know him the best

because he's not the son of the aunt and uncle who took you in

when you got out of the banana boat?

PB: They didn't take me in. I was just up there a week or two.

I: Yeah, well.

PB: And I just happened to be there, yeah. Well, it's very

interesting. I never. Growing up, I never knew Norman very

well. In fact, I had more contact with his brother. A couple of

times I went down, when I went up to the States, he, I told him

about my work, he didn't seem particularly interested and (cut).

My cousin Norman is an engineer. He has his own engineering

company, and, very practical man, and comes down to Mexico, and

on the last day of his trip here, I mean, I kept saying, "well, I

mean, do you want to go to my studio," and that day I had a

studio near the Institute, ten meters long, four meters wide,

stairs up to heaven to get up there, and I said, "look Norman, to

climb up to that studio is rough, man. Are you sure you want to

do it, go up to." And he said, "yeah, I wanna go, I wanna go."

And *190 to meet him the next day. Ok, I had all, I had a big

thing, the stools with the painting, the * all over the damn

place. And just imagine the place big like that room looks now.

I mean, you get out of the biggest place in the world, and that's

gonna be that way, and he didn't say a word, he kept looking,

quiet, kept looking, kept looking. I didn't ask him any

opinions. So, *198I'm doing, now you know what I've been doing

here in Mexico. You know nothing for nothing about the art world

or art or that jazz. When go downstairs he says, "well, if you

wanna try to do something in New York with your work, I'll help

you." He says, "look, you can stay at my place, stay at my home

in the summer* New Jersey. And it's not too difficult to get

from there to New York, an hour and a half on the train, so

immediately when he saw getting, when he got back to the States,

he started buying me subscriptions to *208 magazines. I * news

and then art business magazines, which I looked at, I mean, they

didn't, this art news letter which is about on how to mark it,

your work, and all that. I mean, all that's jazz to me.

I: Yeah.

PB: I mean, I know how to market *21 my work, if I did tell a

very rich man today, you know, you gotta have someone do it for

you, I just don't have it. So, and how to figure out what to

charge for a painting, well, you gotta figure out, well how much

did my materials cost me, and how much time did I spend on it and

what's my time worth, and all. *216 think of all that. So,

anyway,

I: I don't know. I think that must be really hard.

PB: So, and then, he started sending me all these magazines, and

he said, "well, we want to try New York, choose those places.

You wanna come up here for a while, you stay with me, and you

start pushing your work." I had an interesting experience. I'm

looking through this catalogue of art dealers that he sent, very

expensive one, he spent quite a bit of money on getting me all

this information, and I see this place, *225, New Jersey, the

Apple Art. The reproductions I see of their work, forget it. I

mean, I don't want to knock it, but, I mean, that wasn't.

I: That wasn't for you.

PB: It wasn't for me. But, then I thought what Antonio Sosa

told me about showing at the Institute, he says,"well, it's not

important to you, what other kind of shows they have, when you

have your show, it's your show." So I told Norman about, "look

it'd be a good idea if we contact this place because if he wants

you to do something with my work, since I'm form Long Branch, New

Jersey, and *236, New Jersey is this * not to far from Long

Branch. People in the area know the name, Greg * and they might

be able to do something. To * and all that. So he takes time

off from his work with this * his company that he has to go down

and see the head of the *241. I think I write to him first so he

writes first, and the * but he did all the groundwork for me.

One night he calls me up on the telephone from New Jersey, speaks

about half hour, 45 minutes, " hey, this is, might be, your big

chance. I went down to see this fellow, the head of *245 and

he's all excited about your work." I mean, it wasn't hard for

him to check on me because he could check New York Public

Library, and check the "Who's who in American Art" because I've

been in that since 1978, and so, and the guy is all excited about

taking up, me doing prints with him, lithographs there. And he

told my cousin, he says, "well, Phil will be with me," My cousin

told me that, "will be with me for a couple of years, and

somebody else will be interested in him." My cousin said, "well,

if that happens, we don't forget, and we'll get you in if

anything good happens." So, as far as, from what the guy told my

cousin, everything was set. So I'm thinking, I'm leaning up on

this place, and this guy represents painting. He sells paintings

too. Gee, so I go up with only prints, oh, I wrote him, I wrote

this guy there, and I made an appointment for a certain week in

June, I forget what year this was, see him because my cousin was

gonna take me down, and I was gonna talk to him, and to say how

we are we gonna work, and how we are going to do the lithographs,

can I work with him there or work in Mexico and send him the

lithographs, or what? So I'm thinking, my mind starts going, I

start working and when I want to think very clearly and

concisely, I can't. Most of the time I don't want to. So,

anyway, I think, "well, this guy also handles paintings. If he

is want to see paintings, man, I can't tell him I have them in

Mexico." So I get all excited and I decided to ship fifty

paintings to New Jersey. I swore I would never, before I swore,

I would never send paintings out of Mexico beca use of the

"tramites" you know, the red tape, Bellas Artes. I found out

what the red tape was and

I: And what is that? I'm curious.

PB: Well, you gotta get permission, you gotta get, gotta take

pictures, you gotta make a list, and you gotta get an export

license, etc., etc., etc.,

I: So this is to take your own stuff.

PB: No, no, to ship them out. You can go on an airplane, take

anything out you want, but shipping them out. So, once I found

what the requirements were, I just very coldly, very calm and

fulfilled the whole requirements. I remember I took pictures of

my work, and I thought I had to have nice pictures, and I hired

someone, well, I got a friend of mine took the pictures, he

didn't charge me for the, but he should've. I was willing to pay

him. But then I found later, all I needed very simple pictures.

Then I got the export license, they usually take so much, a few

weeks, but when I was in, I met a, at the place, I met a ex-

student of mine who worked there, and introduced me to the jefe

and I got *291 to the States. So, listen, this is interesting.

Let's say. And the find this export, this, what do you call it?

The aduanal.

I: The aduana? The customs?

PB: Well, customs agents. The person who does all the work.

So, I mean, they did all the work. I delivered the paintings in

the morning. Fifty painting. Cost me almost $1,000 which I

didn't have but I paid it. For once I decided to do something

with my art, man, if I possibly squeeze it, I'll do it, and I had

them make the boxes. So that's

I: Who's them?

PB: The custom company. The aduanales. That's how we call

them. It's a company that does that. So in the morning I take

all the paintings there, and they hire someone to make the boxes

and I have given them the papers and everything, *306shipped out

on Eastern Airlines. That was in the morning. That night I come

home, there's a letter from "Apple Arts" and before I opened, I

talked a lot, I said, "they're backing out." He says, "how do you

know?" I said, "well, they have no reason to write because the

appointment I have with is in a few weeks, I'm going up there for

a week." I said, "they backed out." I opened the letter after I

sent all the work, you know, after I put all the work there, and

I opened the letter, "because of the recesion in the United

States we can't, Dear Mr. Bragar, because of the recesion in the

United States we can't take out any new artists." I mean, after

making the appointment, and my cousing seeing them and all that.

So, that almost killed her but didn't upset me that much. They

got me a little angry but.

I: Well, so after all your stuff went, you're gonna stop it,

right?

PB: I paid for everything *322. It all went.

I: It all went.

PB: And then, the next day, Eastern Airlines goes on a strike.

The next week I go up to New York, to New Jersey, the stuff is

supposed to be waiting for me at Newark airport, and my cousin

and I couldn't find a trace of it. And we couldn't, we went to

Eastern Airlines, the freight department in Newark airport and

they couldn't contact Mexico, they tried to, the teletype, you

know? They couldn't contact Mexico because of the strike down

here, they couldn't contact Eastern Airlines, so we didn't know

where the hell the paintings were. They contacted Eastern

Airlines in New York, the paintings just dissapeared off the face

of the earth. My cousin was, he was upset, he couldn't take it.

It didn't upset me that much. I'm used to these setbacks so, I

was only in New York for a week, up there for a week at that

time, and I ran into New York and I saw, tried to set up things

at different galleries in different places, and one woman, *342

she's *, "well, you should be able to sell them in New York.

When you come back," I told him I want to come back, "you see

me." I called her when I came back some months later but she

forgot. I mean, in New York they say that, "see me later, see me

in five months, or go see Joe Blow and all that." Ok, so, no

trace of the paintings. Dissapeared. I thought maybe they're

still in Mexico City, they did not send out because of the

strike. So two days, see, no the day before I was supposed to,

yeah, the day before I was supposed to leave, my cousin gets a

telephone call at the paintings of art *354 where the paintings

were supposed to be *two days before. So we go down there and

packed up and there was some customs officer that was very nice.

I mean, lot different, and I said, "well, do you want me to open

them all. I'll be glad to open all the boxes for you." They

were quite a few, fifty paintings, well, that's *360. I think

some little smaller than that one, one like that,

I: Yeah, big.

PB: He said, "no." *362 because he had me open one. He said,

"look, I'll come satisfied. Take them out of here." And my

cousin sent the truck from his office, his company, to take them

to this, to put in the cellar, and I think they were packed up

until I came back, I don't know if I opened them then, or opened

them in my next trip. And, what happened was, Eastern Airlines

here in Mexico, I think they sent them to another freight carrier

to Chicago first and they were sitting in Chicago. And then they

came down to Newark, New Jersey, but I made all my deals with the

freight agents, here, the customs agents, so those paintings

would be delivered at Newark, New Jersey just about the same when

I arrived so I could be there immediately to get them out. But

they had to come in the day before I left. A week or so later.

I: So then, what did you do?

PB: Oh, I just left them at my cousin's house, and I guess about

a year later, I don't know, some time later I, next time off from

the school and I went back there, I made this *382 in New York, I

took, * I went to every gallery there and, I don't mind if a

gallery says they don't like my work, that's fine.

I: And they do?

PB: Uh?

I: And they actually say, "I don't like this."

PB: Some of them. Or they say in this way, "the work is not for

me. It's not what I handle.~

I" Ok.

PB: That's ok, too. Allright, that's a nicer way to say it.

Like one gallery told me, looked at the work that he liked, and

he says, "look, I have no bad crap you see on the wall. That's

the only thing I can sell." He's honest, no? Uh. I mean, he

said, "I can oly sell crap like that." You look at it, "that`s

all I can sell." How do you like that, uh?

I: That is good stuff.

PB: Well, I don't know. He said, "I can only sell crap." And,

well, I remember one important gallery I went to, the first thing

he looks at it, the guy *400, if I can think of it, I'll mention

it. I won't mention the name of the gallery who told me that

other comment. I don't think it would be very ethic. But if I

can remember of this damn gallery, I just can't think. Well,

*I remember, he said, "well, man," the reason I showed him the

work was they had a lot of German expressionist drawings, and

they said, " they're not doing this in New York." I should've

said, "what do you expect me to do? Call up every week to ask

what's going in New York so I do that in Mexico?" He said, "this

can't be sold in New York." And, so I walked out. And some of

them, I mean, they were quite frank, "I can't handle any more

people," that's. One gallery, the, I forget the name, I show

some work to the director. After he is going through it, he says,

" guau, man, *417 the expressionism." Because at that time the

expressionism was the big deal in New York. "This is the real

stuff. You know, this is it." All those stupid words, and he's

going through it, going through it, going through it. I'm just

listening, I'm used to these people by this time, and then at the

end, but it's too strong for the owner of this gallery. And the

stupid comments. Ok. One thing that really got me was, I

consider quite insulting this, so I made one woman, I forget, I

think she only handled women, I'm not sure. *429 a few men in

the gallery but I forget the name of the * so, she says she sees

artists only on certain days, certain hours, so now, that's good.

I: Yeah,

PB: I mean, after all, the gallery is a business, they can't, I

mean, some galleries you walk in, if the guy has time, they look

at them. But to say on Tuesday from 3:00 to 5:00. Well, that's

good, after all, a gallery is a business and they can't,

sometimes they just can't be handling everybody, I mean,

a hundred million people, and

I: Yeah,

PB: I sort of had the feeling when I was walking around New York

with me portfolios and paintings and see other people doing the

same thing, but actually all of us were saying, "hey, look, I'm a

better genious than him. Look what I do." Uh? Sort of insane.

I mean, we're all going there trying to *444 this and that, put a

show *

I: When was this?

PB: This was, Jesus, I don't know. Must have been 1979, I

guess, 1980.

I: Not too long ago?

PB: Not too long ago. When I had this show in New York. So

anyway, there was one woman, Jesus Christ. I didn't want to her,

my nephew said, "Come on." It was pouring like hell. We get to

the gallery after a hard trip, with this *453 rain pouring like

hell. And she is talking to someone else, so I'm waiting and the

owner of the gallery tell the secretary or assistant, I,

something like that. I mean, and then this young girl, "look, I

have nothing against young girl, quite the contrary, but * young

people in the galleries looking at work, the people who work for

years, would not know a damn thing except what they learned out

of the books which is fine. I mean, it takes years to get

experience, too. You don't get experience as soon as you

graduate from college. That's ok. I understand that but to show

you, have to show your work to people who really don't know what

they're looking at, and really can't make decisions. It's an

insult, frankly, I felt. Of course on the hand, in New York

there you have, the galleries have thousands of thousands of

thousands of artists going in, and they must get little

nervewrecking too, but to show your work to someone, many times

who is not prepared to look, so the girl looks at the work, I

mean, I had it all prepared on how to show it, in a sequence of

things. I figured at they at least make a half hour. She says,

"oh no, show me these things first. Show me the slide first,

show me that." And then, in less than five minutes, she says, "I

think you should go to the galleries uptown." I mean, all this

is, I mean, I'm, I don't think I feel bitter about anything, I'm

not, I don't get

I: No, but there's a big difference between the galleries down

in Soho, what did she mean by "go to the galleries uptown."

They handle different kinds of work, or?

PB: I don't know, I guess Soho is supposed to be the *484. I

don't know, I don't know, but to, what I most saw in most of the

galleries in Soho was pretty crummy, I tell you that much, that's

what I saw, mostly in New York in the contemporary work. It

means that people seem to be painting, painting, painting, but

there's nothing in it. There's no feeling to it, they just

paint, I mean it's a big *490 thing, it's been written up in

quite a few articles.

I: And they get *

PB: Oh man, they get, my boy. I mean, I don't know what kind of

work, this guy Schnubel* does? Have you ever seen it?

I: Oh, it's big kind.*

PB: I mean, I understand he put his mother's plates in the

paintings. Did you hear that?

I: I knew he put plates in it. I didn't know.

PB: That they were his mother's plates, so big deal. What's

that got to do with art?

I: Well, how about *500?

PB: I don't know anything about him.

I: Oh, good.

PB: What about him.

I: No, he is worse than Schubel. Schubel is great compared to

him, but yeah, oh. And *, I don't know what he's getting for his

paintings but I'm sure it's.

PB: Oh, as a gallery picks this guy. The people * and they

push him, and they convince rich people who have no taste

whatsoever that it's art, right?

I: What's the difference between selling your work in New York,

and selling it here? What's the difference between the gallery?

Is there a difference? Well, they're not half the penny.

PB: I don't understand you.

I: Well, when you sell your work, how do you get galleries, well

you described to me going to New York, sh*513 around from gallery

to gallery, having them look at your work, say various names from

anything from

PB: From being civil to being *516.

I: That's New York. What about here?

PB: Well, in my experience here has been a little different

because for years and years and years I have always been with the

*520 gallery. I mean, I've had work in other galleries, few

galleries just that didn't to work, but I've always had work with

the * galleries.

I: Now, when you don't have a show at the *, they still carry

your work, and people know that?

PB: Yeah, well, people here in Mexico associate me with the fact

that *527 for so long. And I've got work in other galleries,

like the OMR gallery. Right now all I have work with the *, the

OMR gallery, the * where I had * shows, and

I: Well, is it.

PB: And, so actually, I've taken work around and some gallery

that didn't want it, but I mean, it's not as hectic here. Since

I was living here, well, if I didn't go to today, I could

tomorrow. But in New York I tried to do everything in two weeks,

in a month. If I were living in New York I would not have been so

in a rush too. Besides, the thing is any place, to get people to

handle your work, you've got to be there. I've got to get to

know you, and they've to get used to your work, like once I

forget a gallery in the mid-west of the United States told me

once when I made one of my trips from coast to coast to * 548

sell work, the fellow told me, "look, I'll be glad to handle your

work, but I need you here. Not you in Mexico painting because if

somebody wants to meet you, you've got be here." In other words,

when they sell today is not the work, it's the artist, so it's

like selling the, being a movie star in a sense, "and I can't

have you down in Mexico if you want me to handle your work."

Well, the guy was right. And he said, "look we have to educate

people to this type of work because it's different work and

they're not used to looking at it." And there was a very

important *561 from a viewpoint of a seller, it's very important

*.

I: Well, I think selling work is a

PB: It's a completely different work than doing the creation.

I: Yeah, totally different and yet, you know, in the final

analysis you've got to do it, right? So.

PB: Well, yeah, it's

I: Usually you have to.

PB: You do. And I*570 these years that I've been teaching

English. Now that I've stopped I, well I hope I can sell some

more. I don't have that much hope, but I'll see what goes on. I

mean, the market is quite limited here in Mexico too, and the

prices I have now, I mean, say for a print on $250 dlls, I mean,

that's not expensive in art world terms, but it's not that easy

for people who want to spend that money here.

I: Yeah, yeah because I've looked around, you know, I've gone

into various galleries just to see what the prices are in the

different galleries with different people's work and stuff, and

their prices, of course their price are lot cheaper here than in

New York, clearly, but you know, $300,000 pesos is a lot of money

here, for the amount of money anywhere.

PB: Even for people who can afford it, just the psychological

idea of $300,000. For years and years and years I've had my work

cheapest *594 and then when this, and I've always had them in

pesos because after all I live in Mexico, I have to respect the

Mexican economy. That's all false now. I changed all the work

into dollars and whatever the peso is at the day, that's they

price. I've got to do that. You can't go around changing the

prices every week or every month or so.

I: Well, let me just look at my list because there's some things

I wanted.

PB: Ok, and then we'll get to clippings and w*606 look around.

I: Yeah, oh I know. I have to talk more about art criticism,

speaking of clippings.

PB: Speaking of what?

I: of the clippings. How, I just need to know more, I'm not

quite sure how to phrase the question either because I'm so new

at even thinking about this, but, everytime you have a show you

hope to get it reviewed.

PB: Right. Of course.

I: Now, who reviews it? Does that make a difference.

PB: Well, yes, I mean, there are important critics like,

Margarita, no, Margarita is dead now. There's the *622 Jorge de

la Crespa, Jorge de la Cerna, I forget his name. He is very

important today.

I: Is it De la Cerna the director of Bellas Artes?

PB: No, no, that's Cerra. I forget, Jorge Crespo de la Cerna,

he is dead now. He's written me up, and Margarita Nalkin, and

when this guy told me, Joy Smith, was the life of the move, he

wrote me*632 and for this past show I got very good criticism.

Not all the critics of Mexico wrote me up, and one I feel should

have, but didn't, but I got look, I got a beautiful *637 in

"Proceso" and Dra. Teresa del Conde, and

I: Where did she write? She wrote in

PB: "Uno Mas Uno" And Carlos Luis Semebick*. Oh yeah, I got

some very good letters for the show. And I think all, each

writer was a good criticism. That's important. A critic should

be someone where they like to work or don't like it, but write in

such a way as to criticize, criticize in his opinion, what he

feels the painting has or what the painting should have because

it's hard to say what someone should do. I mean, you have to

look into someone's heart and soul, no? But a criticism should

be just that, criticism, and a good criticism helps an artist.

That's why when I show people my work, I ask them, "what do yo

think of this." I was very, I purposely took in the back, and I

didn't tell you about those painting because I wanted you to see

them how they were at that moment to see what your reaction was.

I mean, I, people, I've had people look at my work and I say,

"well, it doesn't do anything for me." That's ok. Fine because

people like art for many reasons and the reasons have nothing to

do with art many times, how a person thinks, cultural background,

where they grew up, their values, or lack of values, or whatever,

those things have formed their opinions concerning art.

I: Well, what's constructive criti. What was some of the

constructive criticism you got from this last show?

PB: You have to read the articles.

I: No, but I mean, I read most of them.

PB: I forget. I've read them. I can't just say them off like

that, I. Oh, one thing that today's at the *683, and I realized

it when I did it, too. That many times I use in some of my

paintings black outline, and she said, "that's very dangerous."

Eventhough she said in the article I did it very effectively, but

I have to be careful because that can turn into a trick, you

understand me.

I: Yeah.

PB: It means a blac outline could really be an excuse for not

going further into the painting to make it without the black

outline, but she said, she said that's dangerous, and she said

that, but I fit in the paintings in the show she said I used it

effectively, but I have to be careful with it. I realized that

when I did it too. And she said some other things that were

quite good. I don't recall, to tell you the truth.

I: How about Raquel Tibol?

PB: No, she was

I: Raque Tibol has written about you several times.

PB: Oh, did you see the new book that came out?

I: No, but you mentioned to me and I'm going tomorrow to buy it.

You gave me the address, downtown.

I: Well, no not right now, let's *711 but.

PB: Hey, you've got to. I told, this is * that I told you. You

said you were going to get him a copy.

I: Yeah. Now, I guess I have to.

PB: For me.

I: Yeah, I'm going down tomorrow morning. Tomorrow afternoon,

actually.

PB: I hope they're open. Tomorrow is the first of May. They're

not open, forget it.

I: You are right, they won't be open, they won't be open. I'll

call.

PB: Did I give you the phone number?

I: No (End of side one).

Side Two:

I: Ok. Teresa del Conde is very young so she hasn't covered you

as much as Raquel Tibol. Has she ever written about any show?

No, but what about with Raquel Tibol. She's been covering for,

I know in the car, in the car, I don't know where we were going

once but, you and Richard and me were on the way somewhere and

you mentioned, "Oh, Raquel Tibol had covered a show of yours long

time ago," so I got an idea that she

PB: Nineteen years of *7

I: Yeah, right. So she had covered you a few times before

anyway, and how has her coverage of you changed over the years.

Do you have any idea or .

PB: The thing to do to read the two articles. I have them.

I: Has she been helpful though? Has her criticism been helpful?

PB: I think so, I mean, I can't say I read somebody's work, and

then while I am painting I'm thinking of what that person said.

I: Yeah, right. But as you said anything strong as Teresa del

Conde about, you know,

PB: The black line.

I: Yeah. Something that really is stuck in your mind.

PB: Raquel Tibol feels I've got into the heart of everyday life

in the world. And

I: Here in Mexico or just every place?

PB: Well, she says the right things are on cities all, any

city. Just happened to be in Mexico City. And now as I think of

it, today's (cut). So when I think, one thing that Teresa del

Conde said that on purpose, I paint like a savage, or you just

read the article, uh. That the savageness in my work, this *22

that's purposely done, I mean, it's discontrol by me which it is.

That's what you learn through extreme concentration and contrary

doing*25. A lot of people say, "a * and I did that in the

school," but they take it very lightly. I mean, I take for

years, really concentrating, it's a form of meditation too, in a

sense.

I: Yeah. Well, the, what art *29, well I mean everyone knows

Raquel Tibol. She's like the grand dame now.

PB: Well, sort of. She`s very nice person. She's being. I

think she is very nice.

I: Oh, yeah, she is. I love her stuff.

PB: Oh, you've met her a couple of times?

I: Yeah, she came up to *32 once.

PB: Oh, she did? That's good.

I: Yeah because she's head of the Tamayo exhibit, the

Retrospective in November and December *Museum.

PB: That's gonna be there? What show is that?

I: It's a whole retrospective of his work. And she is in

charge of that.

PB: Oh, really. I didn't know that.

I: And so she hard that Richard had a couple of Tamayos and she

came up to see them.

PB: Is she going to use them in the show?

I: She might. She is interested in using them.

PB: This was after the party?

I: Yeah because she was sick that night unfortunately, but yeah,

this is the day before Richard left.

PB: Oh, and she's, and you met her there?

I: Yeah, he called me up and said, "Put on your clothes, and

come over right away."

PB: *40 your party?

I: Ok * let's meet her.

PB: Oh she's very nice.

I: Oh, yes of course. I ran over there because I wanted to meet

her.

PB: Too bad she didn't come that night *44 professionally * I

understand.

I: Yeah, but has that, has that come out in the papers,or, I

mean, how did people. Did people, everyone knows that, do they

all know because it's been in the papers?

PB: Yeah, I mean, they buy the arguments. I don' know if it's

just for show or real, and I know Teresa del Conde's husband is

*49 Guardado is going to have a show at the Metropolitan Gallery.

Do you know where that is?

I: Oh yeah, on Medellin. Yeah, that's a good gallery.

PB: And I, he told me Raquel Tibol came over to his studio, he

has a huge studio, and she chose the work for the show. So, much

all this stuff is, I don't know.

I: Well, is the argument, is it based on the fact that she is

very politically oriented and

PB: I don't know. I have no idea.

I: I wonder. Well, anyway, so what have I not asked you, that's

what I need to look at. Oh, I know. Well, teaching art. You

mentioned that you were the director of what was it?

PB: Well, for five years I handled, my title wasn't director.

This is United States International University which is still in

Mexico, but they're much smaller, and they only have business

courses now, you know, and they only have courses in

Administration, Business administration, but they used to be on

the road to Toluca where the University of the Americas used to

be. So, someone reco, they needed in three days, this was in

1970, in three days, the art department, the courses were going

to start, and they didn't have anyone on the art department, so

Manuel Felguerez recommended me, and this fellow, *69 called me

up and said, "look, the job was offered to Manuel but he can't

take it, he couldn't take it because he's teaching at a, San

Carlos, you want the job fill it," I said, "ok." So I didn't,

hadn't taught before in my life, so I went out there and I spoke

to the, I don't have a degree or anything, so I went out there

and, you know these universities, they always insist on your

degrees, but when they're on a spot and they need someone, they

don't give a damn. So, anyway, I went out there and I said,

"ok." I never taught art in my life. So they take my up to

where the old art department was from the University of the

Americas, huge spaces, big rooms and all that. So, I remember

they asked me, "which room do you want." I said, "I want the

whole floor, I want all the rooms." At least, I had the

intelligence to think, if the school gets going well, other

faculties are going to demand the space, wan the space, so I

better take it all right now. But in less than five minutes I

have my whole year's program out. I knew exactly in less than

three minutes, I knew exactly what I was going to do, how I was

going to do, in which room, and where and how, and everything. I

didn't have to sit down and write down, one, two, three, well,

let's see from 8 to 9 on Tuesday and Thursday we're going to have

drawing of the hand, and then on Friday in the afternoon we'll

draw the little pinkie, and then, to say, we'll read a book on

composition, and this and that, and the other thing. You know

that? No, I know, I just looked around. I visualized it in less

than a minute. Really, less than a minute. I knew. I was going

to have the painting here, I was going to have the oil painting

there, and I was going to have print making on this table, and

they even got us a little oven for, to do ceramics, which I

didn't know a damn thing about.

I: Well, did you have to hire professors, teachers? Or did you

teach everything?

PB: No, I was the teacher. I taught everything.

I: You and, everything.

PB: I was the chief, cook, bottle, washer. They did get a very

fine woman who was the wife, I think, of the, American woman who

was I think the wife of the Jamaican Ambassador or the counsel,

it was Jamaica, to be my assistant. I don't know, maybe she was

writing, doing some work on it. I don't know. She was my

assistant for a, which was great. She saved me a lot of work,

and one thing I insisted there, was that we were going to have

nude model classes.

I: Did you have those at "Esmeralda?"

PB: What?

I: Nude model classes?

PB: Of course. I mean, that was a professional school. This

was a course where kids were taking university credits. I mean,

it wasn't a special art class. I mean, it wasn't art class, but

I told them, I said, "look, I want to be running an art course.

I'm not going to be running a design course because I can't

have.." (cut). Right from the beginning the students 15, 16, 17

year old student that never draw a line in a day, the first day

they drawing from the nude model. I remember some of the, so I

had, I mean I don't, I mean sometimes they say we have through

this and *109 and draw this and that and the other thing, and

then the second year you draw nudes, you draw the human figure.

I think that's a bunch of horseshit. You do what you have to do

at the moment. So cute with the kids. I went the first into to

class, and these kids, some young kids from the states of Mexico,

we walk in, the first thing I tell them, I, they tell me, "I

don't know how to draw. My mother told me I don't have talent.

My teacher in high school, at junior high said I'm stupid, I

don't have any creative talent." And I'm listening to them, and

saying, "well." I said, "well, all of you are in the same level

as Michael Angelo was." They look at me and they say, " Michael

Angelo? What are you talking about? The same level as Michael

Angelo?" I said, "absolutely. He didn't know how to draw

before he started either." And so then I said, "look, all of us

here, we're not teacher and student. We're artists. The only

reason I'm up here in the front its because I have more

experience than you. I happen to be older. That's all. And you

people are going to do what you are capable of doing today.

Tomorrow you do something else because of what you learned from

today." And I really worked on them without *125. Then we wento

into acrylic painting and to other things. And then each person,

just eventually went their own way. It was so cute with the

model, and everything, I mean even the first time I was in a

model class I got all excited seeing the girl up there, and all

that. But then after five minutes you get down to working. You

think that you're working the first day with these kids. I knew

it was going to happen. I got a *130, I mean, these kids, some

of them are freshmen university kids, you know? And I said,

"ok". So I said, "ok. Thank you." *133 and when I start, "now

you do, draw her with, I tell you how and what to do," and the

kids are, so I just leave them for a while, and I say, "ok, now

that you've had your five minutes of looking, and gasping and

coughing, let's forget about everything and get down to work."

And they got the point immediately. They did. They got down to

work. I said, "look, you have to concentrate on how to learn to

draw the human body, the relationships of how this and that

goes." And they did. But I first, I always the first day, I

always let that few minutes. Their faces get red, and I always

let that few minutes go by. I guess maybe I was, maybe I did it

for my own pleasure. I said, "now that you've looked and now

that you've gotten all excited, ok let's just forget everything

and let's get down to work now." Well, I

I: Well, how Manuel East mentioned that Manuel Felguerez had

recommended you for the job?

PB: Well, he was offered the job.

I: Yeah, but how did you know him?

PB: Oh, I've known him for years.

I: Well, where did you meet him? At the? Was he a student

also, at the school?

PB: No, I've known him for years. We *149 and, when he was

running the salon independiente years ago.

I: What's that?

PB: That was in 1968. When the group of artists broke away

protesting against Bellas Artes, that's when they had all the

student revolt scene, so they formed the group "salon

independientes," And I was selected into it. I didn't even know

but one day I walked into a show of theirs, and they told me,

"hey, Phil, you've been elected. You've been invited to join

us." I said, "fine." And, oh, I remember our first show here, I

mean, people would say, "hey, don't hang up your paintings with

the police and the soldiers are going to take them. That's was

in 1968 when they had all that trouble.

I: Yeah, right. Where was the gallery?

PB: Well, it was in different places, in some library in San

Angel, Isabela Fabula Libray, I forget. But the name isn't.

And the name you find it in my list that I gave you, and then on

the gallery of, I forget, Ciencias y Artes Museum, well, you'll

see in the list. And we existed for about, there was about

eighty people in it. Most people from Latin America and I think,

I myself and another guy were the only Americans there. Maybe I

was the only one. I don't know. I think there were some others

too. I don't remember. So anyway, and each person worked in his

own way, I mean, there were times when we gave conferences, and

lectures, you know, how do you say conferences in English?

I: Yeah, lectures.

PB: Roundtable discussions. *171 Rivera, Patricia P*, they

invited people from the extreme right to the extreme left, right

down in the middle of the road, and it was great. And once we

painted murals in Guadalajara, I remember I went during Semana

Santa, and painted a big mural in two days, and acrylics, I've

got pictures of it, That's the ephimeral

I: Ephimeral.

PB: Yeah, I mean, some years later they covered them up so

people could paint on them. And at that time they gave each one

of us *180

I: Sure. I love them. Never seen them.

PB: So, see, each of us had students or student as a helper. I

think my son of a 68, four or five years old then. I didn't know

what to do*187 I think you start the mural. So I gave them the

price and he threw a figure, and then I said, "ok but then, I'll

go on." I did, and two days I had to finish it because I had to

get back to Mexico City to teach.

I: What time was this in?

PB: Oh, *190 before Guadalajara.

I: How long did the Salon Independiente exist?

PB: About five years.

I: And you met, was it Diego Rivera you said came? No. Who,

you said a lot we had conferences so and so came?

PB: Excuse me. *198 Rivera taught Diego Rivera a * at one of

the roundtable discussions we had.

I: Ok. That makes more sense * is dead. Wasn't he? 68?

PB: Yeah. And, let me finish this.(cut) I like to *203. Look,

when I came to Mexico, my idea was, I purposely kept away from

artists groups. I mean, what they were doing at the Instituto in

San Miguel Allende I never like to work with * anyway. I kept

away from artists groups, especially foreign artists here in

Mexico because most of them, to me, they come down here, they are

very polite to each other, they sit around drinking coffee and

getting drunk and congratulating and telling each other how much

of a genious is each person. I can't stand all this, so I don't

like that. I have a few friends as artists, well I know a lot of

people now, but I can't stand it, just art groups, and I mean,

unless they`re serious people. So that's why kept to myself most

of these days. Now, the Salon Independiente, I felt good they

join, they asked me to join them. It was a serious movement.

But then after some years some people in there wanted to make it

political, so it dissolved. And *218, "well, everything has its

life. It comes to an end." That sort of I feel like what

happened today when I handed in my resignation at the Instituto.

I: Yeah, that's true because after 28 years you said,

PB: 27

IO: 27 years

PB: Of course, for many years it was a nice way to make a living

and take care of expenses and not have to worry about it, so.

I: Well, before the tape ends, I want to know how you know *225.

PB: He came in some years after me.

I: From where?

PB: From Switzerland. I met him, I think in the San Angel, at

a. And then all of the sudden out of the clear of the sky, you

read in the catalogue, you have a catalogue, no? Did you read

what he wrote?

I: Yeah,

PB: Then also then in a little paragraph once, he was

interviewed once and he mentioned, the little paragraph, he

mentioned something like that, that he just loved my work. It

was one of great, he's always just loved my work. I mean, I find

it, you know, I find this all very surprising. And he says,

"look, here we are 1987, no?

I: That's right. That's what my watch says.

PB: Look, just, I modestly I'll say this. You know who Rafael

Coronel is?

I: Yes, yes. I'm sorry he's no longer alive.

PB: Oh. You should be sorry because he is alive. It's Pedro

Coronel who's dead.

I: Erase that.

PB: It's Pedro Coronel that's dead. It's, Rafael alive.

I: You're just like me with *245, no? Remember I told you about

that? You better make sure you correct that, uh? Ok, now. I

knew Pedro was pretty much on speaking terms with, but I never

saw over the years, of all of these years, I never saw much of

Rafael. So one day I was at the gallery, at the museum. *255

Rafael *. You know how he paints? You know his work, no?

I: Oh yes. Very well.

PB: How's this? I want to make sure you are not making the

mistake.

I: Rafael. No, Pedro is the one who lived in Paris and studied

with *258 and then, Rafael is the one who came out in, he wa part

of the, what was that group called? In the sixties that was

post beat, but they had relationship to the beat artists?

PB: Post what?

I: Beat artists*?

PB: I don't know.

I: Well, you know that book by *262. Well, Nueva Presencia. He

was part of that group.

PB: But do you kow what his work is like? What's it like?

I: Well, I can think of one thing in particular. It's of a

sacerdote sitting on a chair.

PB: Sort of dark paintings?

I: Yes. Yeah. They're dark. And he has a lot of lithographs.

PB: And he painted a lot of rats?

I: Yeah, right. I saw one. There must be one in the museum of

Modern Art here somewhere.

PB: There's one at the Contemporaneo, the place that Televisa

runs.

I: But I didn't see it there.

PB: Ok, but anyway.

I: Anyway, yeah, no I don't have the two mixed up.

PB: Rafael was at my show at the museum. So I see him and he is

very friendly, very nice. I was surprised he came. He said,

"You know, I made a special trip down from Cuernavaca to see your

show." He said, "I haven't seen greatest work for a long while

and I wanted to come and see this show." I, for the life of me,

can't believe this. I mean, this statements are what, were made

at the end of the last century. I'm not putting myself on a

level with *282 Van Ghogh and all those people. I'm not. I

wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare do that, but these were the

things, and I understand that were said about then, and I'm just

repeating what the man said. I hope I can sound modest? I'm

making an effort, no? And, I*288, he goes and looks at the work,

he says, "Jesus, Phil, Felipe Bragar, you do what we want to do

but we don't have the courage to do it." He says, "you have more

of Mexico in your work than we do." Then he says, I mean, these

were different canvas we're looking through the show, we come to

one then to another, and then he says, " you don't respect

anything, do you? You have no respect for line, you have respect

for color, you have no respect for composition, but it's all

there." Isn't that beautiful?

I: Yeah.

PB: Coming from

I: Rafael Coronel.

PB: One of the top, top Mexican painters, to say to a foreign

painter. Ok. I mean, people consider me part of the Mexican

scene, and consider a Mexican painters, the head of the Museum of

Modern Art *302 the presentation that night. Were you there when

he spoke?

I: Yeah. I didn't know you then.

PB: Uh?

I: I didn't know you then.

PB: Sure you knew me. Didn't you know me at the opening of the

show, you didn't know me.?

I: Of your show, no.

PB: You didn't know me at the opening of the

I: I didn't know Richard either

PB: You didn't. But were you at the opening.

I: Yeah. I had just arrived in Mexico.

PB: February 12?

I: I arrived February 8.

PB: February 8.

I: I didn't meet Richard until. Well, I don't remember the

date, but you know, it was at least two weeks after I arrived.

PB: Well, I'm glad you had time.

I: Yeah. It was a complete coincidence.

PB: I'm glad you timed it, destiny that you time and, to get to

the show, you came to the opening. Did you understand what the

man said?

I: Not much, not much because

PB: Well, he said something very nice. He said something like,

this fellow, me, coming to Mexico, he found his place, found his

time, found something, eventhough he is an extranjero, we accept

him as a Mexican artist. And that's something here. And I know

by a lot of Mexican artists.

I: There was Man. Alberto *322 .

PB: Alberto * . He just became director. Actually, the guy

that should've given that presentation was the guy before him,

but they just changed the administration. So, anyway, in fact,

anybody who pushed me for the show, Javier Barrios Valero, was

the head, general head of Bellas Artes, Director of General of

l*326, she, they weren't there. What happened was.

I: Oh, there was that turnover or something.

PB: Yeah, that's what happened. And when I read about that

turnover, after a few days after I was promised to show, I said,

"that, they're going to cancel me, like they did twenty seven

years ago." And I swore I was going to do something drastic.

But that wasn't necessary.

I: What was that turnover. What happened?

PB: The show was a political motivator, I don't know why.

I: Yeah, but anyway, one everyone got turned over?

PB: Well, when the big man was Barrios Valero, got turned over,

everybody is going down the line.

I: Yeah, well, didn't he become a. I thought he became an

Ambassador or something.

PB: Not yet.

I: Oh, not yet.

PB: Today in Excelsior there was a. I don't usually buy

Excelsior. My son does once in a while. There was an article on

him.

I: Oh, so anyway, *343

PB: Well, I think I met him in San Angel at the home of this

woman * who was a painter, and I've seen him off and on over the

years. He's always backed my work up to hill. Now, all these

comments I can't believe it. I can't see whether, I *347 such

comments. I can't, I can't. I mean, this is 1987. These things

were said about the fathers of modern art in Europe before. I

mean, the samething. I don't feel the work is that comparable,

but, and I feel the work still has a long way to go, but I just

couldn't believe this. I mean, one thing I've always done when I

came to Mexico, my first drawing because I taught my students, I

said, " you are not going to learn to draw, you're going to draw.

You are going to make your line, and a direct line, and a natural

line. If you don't like what you're doing now, throw it away and

do another one. You're going to draw; you are not going to learn

to draw." I remember once, the wife of a professor came to me, I

was talking to some students, the wife of one of the professors

in another faculty, there, at this university. She says to me,

very, very demanding, she says, "I want to teach me to draw a

tree." She says, "teach me to draw a tree." I ignored her. I

kept talking to the kids. "I said, you teach me to draw a tree."

I ignored her again. The kids were getting a little nervous.

After all, this was the wife of one of the main professors of the

university, in I forget History or Political Science or whatever

it was and, she repeats it again, the same demanding voice. I

ignored her. The kids were getting a little nervous. I mean,

these were young students, you know, I mean. So finally, I

looked at her, I turned around, and says, "look, I am not going

to teach you how I draw a tree because that's not going to help

you at all, but I will teach you how you can you draw your own

tree, do your own sense of observation and discipline and

feeling, and relationship."

I: Grumble, grumble.

PB: Uh. What?

I: So she grumbled?

PB: Grumbled. Well, at the end of the term she came back to me,

abnd said, " you know, I apologized for the way I took you." She

said, "I was, you were right." I mean, I can sit down and show

you how I draw this and draw that. Ok, fine, you can try to copy

me but I don't to teach you how to observe this and to feel it

that yourself, I mean, it's not worth it. I mean, it's just not

worth it. I mean, people learn from one way. For their own

experience, as in each *392 class of drawing each student has to

have their own emotional experience at that moment and the

teacher has to realize that, and set up exercises, whick isn't

that difficult. I never wrote down a lesson plan on my life. I

remember once at the Instituto, when I started, I wrote down a

lesson plan. I walked into class, I tried to follow the lesson

plan, have, before the class was ten minutes on I threw away the

lesson plan.

I: I've seen other people do that.

PB: I mean, it's foolish. It's very foolish. I mean, if *402

teacher can visualize, oh, you have to know your material, be

able to ask questions. If you can't answer a question, you bring

the answer in tomorrow. But you have to visualize what you're

going to do at, how to get to communicate with the student. And

you can't go up calling to a lesson plan one, and lesson plan 2

and lesson plan four, lesson plan five. I mean, you can't do it,

and you know, at the Institute, well, they have the teacher's

course, and these kids are writing out this, maybe it's good, I

don't know. I never studied teaching. I don't. I have nothing

against people coming out of school and universities because

teach is fine, and I don't feel bad because someone who has

university will get a job teaching drawing, which I wish I could

have had which I couldn't get because I don't have the degree. I

don't have the degree. I don't feel bad, but of course, I mean,

when you finish school, gosh, you need a job, uh? But, the

problem is, at too many universties they don't teach at the

books, and the rules are only guides, they don't teach you how to

have confidence in your own instinct and handling your class, and

to feel at your students which is an important thing, uh?

I: I have one question before the tape ends, and that is, I'm

going back to your show at the Museum of Modern Art. Did you

choose *426 to be the writer or did they choose him to be the

writer of your catalogue?

PB: I chose him. I mean, when.

I: Is that the standard, the artist chooses.

PB: No, look Raquel Tibol was quite angry because if you noticed

in her article, she critized the form of the administration

because nobody wrote anything about me. You didn't know that?

I: No.

PB: Turn the tap off a minute. When I was told I could have

this show, well, they asked me who do I want to have write the

presentation. Well, I don't know. Sometimes you feel sort of.

You don't like about a *440, you know? So, I said, "well,

look." I remember that * wrote something very nice in an article

that, in an interview we had with this fellow Ascot*, I forget

the fellow's full name. Jose Garcia Ascort*, who died not too

long ago, and I said, "well, why can't we use what * wrote?"

which I think is great, and then, they were looking over

somethings that I gave them, and they saw something that I wrote,

and I was asked if they could use it too. So, that's how it came

out. (cut) I felt that it was time that I have a show at the

Museum of Modern Art, so I went to Ana Maria Pequeniz of the

Pequeniz Galllery and I said, "look, call up, push me for a show

at Bellas Artes." And I'm told that Javier Barrios Valero was in

my studio over a year ago, and he did, he came to see my work in

this crummy studio that I had which was so dark and dirty and

dusty. I couldn't even offer the man a seat. For about an hour,

an hour and a half, he stood up while I was showing him, pulling

painting from all over, and he didn't say a word. But then, I

didn't want to ask him for a show or ask him for anything because

I didn't want him to think I invited him over there to take

advantage of his position. I mean, I just didn't want to do

that. I just couldn't. So, now that I am told Ana Maria

Pequiniz, "well, a year ago, he was at your studio." I said,

"well, that's a good point for us." And then of course, Teresa

del Conde purchased a painting of mine in the subasta, in the

auction that they had for the earthquake victims at the Museo

Carrillo Gil. So, Ana Maria eventually, gets in touch with

*477 and Javier Barrios Valero and, he was Director General of

Bellas Artes at that time, and he said, "absolutely," he says.

Ana Maria said, "look, if any artist in Mexico, Mexican *484

foreigners to have a show in Bellas Artes, its Phil. Phil

Bragar, I mean, he's been here for about 30 years working and he

is part of the scene here." Barrios Valero said, "I agree with

you." Immediately, he called up Teresa del Conde, and Teresa del

Conde said, "yeah, I agree too." And she saw the letter. I

called up Oscar R*490 who was the director of the Museum of

Modern Art. And so, I spoke to Teresa del Conde on the

telephone, and she said to me, "you go see Oscar* and let him fix

the day for you." The next day I go down, I see Aurrutia*495,

and he says, "well, the only day I have is June 1988." I said,

"fine, great, wonderful. Sitting a whole year, to have something

like that in the future is great." I mean, its exciting no? So

really, the next day, man, I gee, I grab money from here, I knew

had it saved and this and that, and I went out and I bought, I

got some paints, I remember I saw the watercolor t*505 with

$300,000 pesos I got four it's going to fifty or whatever was. I

mean, I spent every dime on paints, and, you saw those big

canvases, and everything and that big. I figured, "well, I want

to have to *509 a lot of canvases," so I bought that, a curly

thing, that big acrylic to prepare the paintings and so. So,

goddamit, so I really got this in my mind. Although I knew, and

other people told me, "look, 1988 for God's sake, at the end of

1988, this president goes out, and in 1988 all these politician,

the thing that they can grab. All these politicians are going

out." So they're going to be changing

I: The guards.

PB: The guard. There's a big chance of me not having that show.

I: And you've already been through that once before, so

PB: Yeah, twenty seven years. Well, they gave me eighty eight,

so I want to work for it. So one day, on the telephone, the fact

of the show was now, was when it was, was I think, thanks to

Teresa del Conde because she knew when it was going to happen, so

one day on the telephone I'm talking to Teresa del Conde and she

says to me, "Phil, if we put the show up a little ahead, is that

all right with you." Well, I figured from June 1988, January,

February, March, maybe to March 1988, June, January, February

March, April 1988. You know, a couple of months, you know. I

said, "yeah, is perfectly allright with me. I have the work

ready, it's fine." So then, later on, I'm talking to *539, he is

very nice. Once this thing was decided about the show, that man

did everything, he, they all did.

I: He was the director of the

PB: Museum of Modern Art

I: museum then. Ok.

PB: And then, one day, I was speaking to him on the phone. I

said, "you know, Teresa del Conde mentioned the possibility of

putting the show up a few, adelantandolo, putting, make a little

ahead of the date that I was told." And he said, "absolutely

impossible." So when I hung up. I said, "look, all I want you

to know is I'm ready at any time for the show, so thank you."

When I hung up, I said to Carlota, I said, "I was just told it

was impossible to mover the date up." Impossible, so that means

it'll probably be next month.

I: And it was.

PB: So the day before Christmas I'm in the Museum of Modern Art,

walking around, calmy, as calmy as I can be which is not very

calmy because I'm always a little bit in a state of tension,

specially when I'm around paintings, and I, just looking into

painting, and I see the secretary of the Director, *561, and I

think, "should I go over and say Merry Christmas to her or not.

Well I'll go over and say Feliz Navidad, Merry Christmas." She

is talking on the telephone, says, "wait, wait, the director

wants to speak to you." She says, "we've been trying to call you

at your home." I said, "well, I left about an hour, a half hour

ago." She says, "just wait a minute." I say, "what does he

want?" What does he want? I'm thinking, no?

I: Oh, God.

PB: So, I figure, "I'm going to stop thinking what he wants and

just take it as it comes, no? So I walk in his office, and Tita

Valencia was there. She`s the subdirector, and we sit down and

Oscar*577, he's an architect. Architect *says to me, "you can

have your show," remember I had in my mind definite June 1988.

I: Yeah, right.

PB: That's almost two years from then, a little less than two

years in the future, no? And I had that show going in my mind,

that was, I was, the work I was doing, well, I don't, I knew what

I was going to. I didn't have the pictures plan because when you

work on a picture, when you have it in your mind, that's one

thing, what you paint, what comes out of your heart is another

thing. So he said to me, "Philippe, you can have your show, the

opening of your show can be June 12, 1987. Do you have work?" I

said yes. Can you imagine that? I said, "You're sure, no? Are

you sure?" "Absolutely." So then we go into the, so we're

going, you know, because before, when he said June 1988, he said,

"look," when he was telling me, gave me that date some weeks

before. He said, "here's how we do things. You have a meeting

without staff, and this person is in charge of this and this

person is in charge of that, in every system, can we do this and

that, then we gotta decide in the catalogue, decide on painting

and etc, etc. and by the way, by the middle of next year, I want

to come to your house to see your work, to see how it's going."

I thought maybe that if he doesn't like it, he could cancel it.

And two days *612 wanted to come on, in January to see my work.

They never really see my work. They didn't really know what my

work was like, and Javier Barrios Valero saw it, and they set it.

The guy was telling me how nice and systematic everything goes.

So I go into the next room with everybody else, and we're all

talking at once, planning this, planning that, and everything was

planned *619 in ten minutes. So I get in the other room and I

said to this Tita Valencia, "Are you sure it`s the date June 12?"

She said, "absolutely."

I: And who is Tita Valencia?

PB: She was subdirector of the Museum of Modern Art when

Arquitecto *629 was the director before Manrique. And so,

immediately I called Carlote and she nearly drops dead. And

she's on this office where she works and I said, "well, you know,

mi exposicion, se van a inaugurar el 12 de febrero de 1987.

Later on she told me she nearly fell off her chair. I mean, it

was sort of a surprise, no? So anyway, I called up the *647 and

they weren't in but I left the message and then.

I: They changed it again?

PB: No, nothing was changed. Oh, they changed it from June 1988

to February 1988. Yeah, oh this was the first time they change it

because last time they just cancelled, and then

I: Ok, but then, the third change or the second change was for

February?

PB: Yeah, that's the only change. Twenty seven years the new

guy cancelled up, and this time, this guy, they changed it from

June 1988 to February 1988. I found out later because Teresa del

Conde knew what was going on. She knew, she saw what's going on

and she helped me get that date. I know she did it. She told me

she knew what was going on. So, anyway, and then, a few days

later I read in the newspaper about Barrios Valero, I'm sitting

here, reading the newspaper, I think, "Oh, God, I gotta go in and

start getting, seeing about work and everything, and. Oh, I had

to do something, but I was just, didn't want to get myself to do

it. I mean, all this thing, and getting lists and all that.

That's all of this work but you have to do this. A lot of it, no

one else can do it for you. So I'm sitting there, reading Uno

Mas Uno, just looking through, well, what do they say about

painting, and all of the sudden, I see a headline. "Renuncio

Javier Barrios Valero, director General de Bellas Artes." I look

at it and then I read the article, then it said, also in the

first week of January, Dra. Teresa del Conde is going to give up

her office". So if they do that again, I'm going to do

something. I'm thinking, what I problaby would've done, maybe

the night of the opening, I would have put my paintings in front

of Bellas Artes of the Museum of some, I don't know. I would

have done something drastic. I don't know what. I don't know

what I'm capable of doing or what I haven't. I mean, the few

people I know. I don't know if anyone would've backed me,

either. Well, if some artist was some younguer artist, I mean,

younger artists, they don't give you that show.