This past weekend was the opening premier of a touching art exhibit focusing on the effects of the United States throughout the years in Guatemalan life. It is located in the Rozsa Gallery space A. Altogether, Lisa Gordillo’s show, ChickenBus, is a vibrant, interactive learning experience. A chicken bus is a colorful bus, often a retired North American school bus, which transports goods and people in Latin American countries. The name brought a bright, playful tone to an exhibit that was dripping with darker messages.
All through the exhibit people were chatting casually, and a mild, relaxed ambiance filled the air as the attendees milled about. The smell of strong cheese and limes set the stage for a high end art show. Stepping into the gallery, the center stage was a large blue wheelbarrow piled high with beautiful, bright limes that were cheery and plump, begging to be picked up, but upon closer inspection, it could be seen that they were emblazoned with the words of a poem.
The limes spoke of turning people against each other in the interest of power and control. The image evoked a strong feeling of wastefulness, which brought the viewer into a strange kind of unease. Lisa Gordillo, the artist, explained that in places like Guatemala, markets are an incredibly important part of everyday life, unlike in America where going to the farmer’s market is an active and special choice to make.
The connection in Latin America between produce and the people’s lives is more than just a brief interaction; it is a way of life. The United States’ United Fruit Company, which owns a lot of land in Guatemala, played a major role in the decision to overthrow the Guatemalan government. This investment resulted in a strong feeling that “the connection between fruit and violence is a hair-thin line in this country,” Gordillo said. It could be inferred that the line between profits and violence is even thinner.
In fact, in an effort to show how far the violence of our government reaches, there was another piece in the exhibit along one of the walls titled “The Coordinates.” The piece consisted of elegant, pristine white sculptures that resembled the intricate form of conch shells that might be found along a beach. Each one was marked with the coordinates of one of the 26 Mayan villages destroyed during the Guatemalan “anti-communist” genocide, funded partially by the United States. Although there were 440 villages lost and more than 600 massacres, the piece’s message of grieving unnecessary violence was abundantly clear. The shape of the shell-like sculptures was formed by creating a void between two hands, like hands poised in prayer or grieving.
The fingers varied in size from large and wide to small and childlike. Gordillo describes the sculptures as “offering or holding onto something we cannot hold.” She also spoke about the decision to use plaster as the material noting that other more expensive materials, such as porcelain and jade, kept coming to mind as a better fit for the message of the sculptures.
In the end, they weren’t used because it is impossible to put a price on the importance of remembering the lives that were lost. The influence of the United States in these countries is not as cut and dry as life and death. Lasting daily effects, like the ex-military soldiers poised outside doorways and at the end of every street, is common in Latin American countries such as Guatemala. These things that are a part of everyday life in Latin American countries are not even contemplated in America. In an effort to show us our part in creating and corrupting these societies, Gordillo provided two “paint-by-number” pieces where attendees could take part in filling in a different number of the incomplete painting. “We made these paint-by-number security guards,” Gordillo said, highlighting the fact that all the guards looked the same, “and now we get to see our part in their creation.”
Corruption was brought along with violence and murder to Guatemala. Gordillo sought to illustrate the dissonance created by governmental corruption through a poem about cops and robbers, a game often played by young children. It’s about how the cops and robbers used to be separate, but now the cops have joined the robbers. Lines from the poem were engraved on simple children’s spinning tops making a jarring image, like the visual representation of a baby’s lullaby being played in a horror movie. The piece asks, “What effects will this have on our children?” and, “Who do we turn to for help when the good people are also bad?”
The United States’ past interferences with these countries is tied to the present day among conversations of the wall President Trump plans to build along the U.S.-Mexico border. Gordillo placed a simple, narrow strip of wood on the ground and titled it Tightrope Practice. Children and adults attempted to make it across the long stick, laughing as they failed to make it halfway across and started over again and again. It illustrates the fine line that the United States is walking as it prepares to meddle heavily once again in the lives of Central Americans. “The inspiration for that came from this idea in my head to actually cross a river on a tightrope to illustrate the communication barrier that already exists between the two sides,” Gordillo explained. “I don’t know how to tightrope yet, though. So I need to practice, and I can’t help but think how can we build a wall between us when we already destroyed the countries on both sides?” The artwork, method, pieces and the artist were profoundly educational, providing a tangible and visual view into our past as a country. The Chicken Bus exhibit reveals a different side to the story of us tampering with the lives of our neighbors.
