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By Gaspar Gonzalez. Special To The Herald. Posted on Tue,
Jun. 17, 2003 in The Miami
Herald.
''Las palmas son novias que esperan (Palm trees are lovers who wait),'' the
Cuban patriot José Martí told a Tampa audience in 1891, at a rally
in support of Cuba's struggle against Spanish rule. Today, 150 years after his
birth -- he was born Jan. 28, 1853 -- it would appear that it is not only the
palms, but Martí, who must wait.
That's because plans for an ambitious monument (some would say the most
ambitious monument yet) to the Apostle of Freedom have stalled on the shores of
the country he once called home.
José Martí, if not quite lost in America, might be lost on
America. At least it seems that way to Nicolas Quintana, who would like to bring
the memorial -- one he designed three years ago for the city of Los Angeles --
to Miami-Dade County.
''That was some experience,'' says Quintana, an architect and Florida
International University professor, reflecting on the competing interests and
ethnic tensions that ultimately doomed the project in Southern California.
Sitting in his campus office, he recalls, with some irony, that the idea to do
the monument wasn't even his.
He had traveled to Los Angeles in 1999 to participate in a tribute to the
noted late Cuban anthropologist Fernando Ortiz, who had been a close friend.
''During the conference,'' Quintana remembers, "[Los Angeles Cultural
Affairs Department General Manager] Adolfo Nodal announced the proposal for the
Martí project and said I should design it.''
SCHOLAR, TOO
It was not a hard decision for Nodal. As a young architect in the 1950s, the
Cuban-born Quintana helped introduce the International Style to the island.
Since that time, he has distinguished himself not only as an architect, but as a
scholar of Cuban thought and culture.
''Nicolas himself is one of those people we will look back on as an
important figure in Cuban history,'' Nodal says.
It was the historical import of the project that initially most appealed to
Quintana. "Echo Park [the name of the park where the monument was to be
erected and the neighborhood that surrounds it] is where the first wave of
exiles settled [in the 1960s]. The church across from the park itself served as
a reception center.''
The area already contained a bust of Martí. ''A gorgeous thing,''
exclaims Quintana, referring to the Sergio López Mesa creation erected in
the northeast corner of the park almost 30 years ago. ''The goal,'' he says, "was
to add something that would give the bust greater prominence, a greater
presence.''
Quintana's plan called for framing the bust with a multi-layered,
80-foot-long sculpture he calls The Wall of Thoughts. The first layer -- a
thick, heavy, undulating wall -- would seek to capture the dramatic flow of Martí's
life, conveying seminal moments through the use of sharp breaks. Quintana
conceived of the second layer, symbolizing the emergence of the Cuban nation, as
a heavy, stainless steel mesh, placed six inches in front of the first layer.
The mesh, in turn, would serve as a backdrop to a third layer, a series of
titanium panels featuring excerpts from Marti's writings.
One final, poetic touch would complete the scene: six palms, representing
the six original Cuban provinces, planted around the installation.
''It's the most difficult project I've ever worked on,'' says the
78-year-old, of his 211th commission, "and, I believe, the most
beautiful.''
The problems began when the architect took his proposal public, unveiling it
at the Echo Park United Methodist Church, the same church that had offered
Cubans such a warm welcome in the 1960s. Quintana's reception was anything but
hospitable. ''I finished my presentation,'' he grins, 'and an americana who
looked like a 60-year-old hippie, stood up and said 'Who the hell is José
Martí?' ''
TENSE MOMENT
Quintana lost his composure. ''Well, do you know who Thomas Jefferson is?''
he asked her. When the woman answered that he was one of the founding fathers,
the college professor asked if she also knew Jefferson had been a great
architect. ''I learned that in Cuba,'' Quintana informed her. "So, the next
time you stand up, try to be more informed.''
Telling the story, he shakes his head. ''Typical Cuban,'' he sighs, sinking
back in his chair, ''I just couldn't keep my mouth shut.'' What Quintana hadn't
fully appreciated was the resistance the monument might encounter in a community
comprised mostly of whites, Asian-Pacific Islanders, and non-Cuban Latinos.
''There are few, if any Cubans, left in Echo Park,'' he acknowledges. 'People
there feel 'Well, the Cubans abandoned the neighborhood, so why should that be
the site of this memorial?' Jealousies eventually killed the project.''
Judy Raskin, chair of the Echo Park Community Action Committee, one of the
groups that opposed the monument, admits that ''there might be people in Echo
Park who have resentments'' toward Los Angeles' Cuban community, but says there
was another, more central concern. ''It really had to do with the taking of the
green,'' she asserts. "We didn't want to replace this very shady area under
the trees, where people relax and kids play, with concrete. People felt that,
because of the size of the design, it just wasn't appropriate for the park. It
was too big.''
Quintana dismisses that particular criticism. ''The park,'' he points out,
pulling out an aerial view of the area, "is 994,000 square feet. The
project occupied 1,500 square feet. We're talking about a footprint.''
Nodal, for his part, thinks the project might have been the victim of bad
timing as much as anything else. ''The city had recently committed to the
concept of neighborhood empowerment,'' he explains by phone from his Los Angeles
office. ''Local bullies took advantage of that to shoot down initiatives
everywhere, not just Echo Park.'' Whatever their motivation, the opposition
groups managed to squelch the proposal.
' Nodal called me and said 'Let's do something somewhere else,' but I wasn't
interested,'' says Quintana. "I put my soul, life, and heart into that
monument.''
But, he says, the project's opponents ultimately may have been right about
one thing. The Martí memorial may be better suited for some place other
than Echo Park. Perhaps even the FIU campus.
''Why not?'' he asks. "I designed it on a drawing table here at FIU.
And there are more students of Cuban descent at this school than at the
University of Havana.''
Quintana, who has a spot already picked out -- ''the lawn, just across from
the school of architecture, adjacent to Southwest Eighth Street'' -- says he'll
soon make a formal pitch to FIU President Modesto Maidique. He believes the
project can be built for $400,000, with funding coming exclusively from the
private sector. The only thing missing from the original concept will be López
Mesa's bust, which, unfortunately, cannot be duplicated.
Another crucial element, though, should be no problem. ''As luck would have
it,'' smiles Quintana, gesturing in the direction of the site, ''there are
already palm trees there.'' Waiting.
Vibrant actress brings La Lupe to life again
By Marta Barber. Mbarber@herald.com. Posted on Tue, Jun. 17, 2003.
She was an icon in the Havana of the late '50s and early '60s, and a
crossover star when she moved to the United States, a Cuban entertainer known
more for her theatrics on stage than her voice. She's an icon now, a favorite of
a much younger generation -- especially Latin gays and female impersonators --
who never saw her live but have become diehard fans.
Victoria Guadalupe Yoli, known for her stage name La Lupe, lives on. In
2001, La Lupe, my vida, mi destino, (La Lupe, My Life, My Destiny) became an
instant success Off-Broadway. Receiving accolades for her performance as La Lupe
in that show was Sully Díaz, a Nuyorican who has a little trouble
shedding her English accent but no problem in becoming the tempestuous
entertainer. And she proves it once more in La Reina, La Lupe, the latest show
offered by Venevision International in its new venue in Coral Gables. Díaz
will knock your socks off with her vibrant performance, and whether you ever saw
La Lupe or not, you will like Díaz's rendition.
The musical, written and directed by Rafael Albertori, revisits La Lupe's
life from her days in Havana's hottest club to her association with Tito Puente
and her death in New York in 1992, from her days as a Santería believer
to her conversion to Evangelical Christianity. She left Cuba in 1962, when the
revolution decided ''Lupismo'' had no place in the new regime. Lupismo meant
unrestrained language and overt sexuality on stage, and Díaz fills the
role well, in addition to showing, albeit somewhat discreetly, La Lupe's cocaine
habit.
With a full musical combo on stage, the show mixes La Lupe's songs with
details of her life. The second act is mainly a revue of her best-known songs.
It is not as successful, for it is La Lupe, not her music, you want to see. Díaz
is captivating in the role, from her mannerisms as an entertainer in a frenzy to
her touching scene as a woman in despair over her husband. Even when excessive
scene-setting smoke triggered the loud-sounding alarm, Díaz never went
out of character.
La Reina, La Lupe suffers from trying to turn a somewhat personal story into
a big production. Lights, music and, yes, smoke, could be toned down in order to
let Díaz shine even more as La Lupe.
PARA IMPRIMIR |
