The promotion of classicism in the visual arts in late eighteenth and nineteenth-century Latin America and the need to “revive” buen gusto (good taste) are the themes of this collection of essays. The contributors provide new insights into neoclassicism and buen gusto as cultural, not just visual, phenomena in the late colonial and early national periods and promote new approaches to the study of Latin American art history and visual culture. The essays examine neoclassical visual culture from assorted perspectives. They consider how classicism was imposed, promoted, adapted, negotiated, and contested in myriad social, political, economic, cultural, and temporal situations. Case studies show such motivations as the desire to impose imperial authority, to fashion the nationalist self, and to form and maintain new social and cultural ideologies. The adaptation of classicism and buen gusto in the Americas was further shaped by local factors, including the realities of place and the influence of established visual and material traditions.

This book presents a historical overview of colonial Mexico City and the important role it played in the creation of the early modern Hispanic world.

When the USS Maine mysteriously exploded in Havana’s harbor on February 15, 1898, the United States joined local rebel forces to avenge the Maine and “liberate” Cuba from the Spanish empire. “Remember the Maine! To Hell with Spain!” So went the popular slogan. Little did the Cubans know that the United States was not going to give them freedom—in less than a year the American flag replaced the Spanish flag over the various island colonies of Cuba, Guam, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines. Spurred by military successes and dreams of an island empire, the US annexed Hawai‘i that same year, even establishing island colonies throughout Micronesia and the Antilles. With the new governmental orders of creating new art, architecture, monuments, and infrastructure from the United States, the island cultures of the Caribbean and Pacific were now caught in a strategic scope of a growing imperial power. These spatial and visual objects created a visible confrontation between local indigenous, African, Asian, Spanish, and US imperial expressions. These material and visual histories often go unacknowledged, but serve as uncomplicated “proof” for the visible confrontation between the US and the new island territories. The essays in this volume contribute to an important art-historical, visual cultural, architectural, and materialist critique of a growing body of scholarship on the US Empire and the War of 1898. Imperial Islands seeks to reimagine the history and cultural politics of art, architecture, and visual experience in the US insular context. The authors of this volume propose a new direction of visual culture and spatial experience through nuanced terrains for writing, envisioning, and revising US-American, Caribbean, and Pacific histories. These original essays address the role of art and architecture in expressions of state power; racialized and gendered representations of the United States and its island colonies; and forms of resistance to US cultural presence. Featuring interdisciplinary approaches, Imperial Islands offers readers a new way of learning the ongoing significance of vision and experience in the US empire today, particularly for Caribbean, Latinx, Pilipinx, and Pacific Island communities.

"A significant contribution in Caribbean archaeology. Singleton weaves archaeological and documentary evidence into a compelling narrative of the lives of the enslaved at Santa Ana de Biajacas."--Patricia Samford, author of Subfloor Pits and the Archaeology of Slavery in Colonial Virginia "Presents results of the first historical archaeology in Cuba by an American archaeologist since the 1950s revolution. Singleton's extensive historical research provides rich context for this and future archaeological investigations, and the entire body of her pioneering research provides comparative material for other studies of African American life and institutional slavery in the Caribbean and the Americas."--Leland Ferguson, author of God's Fields: Landscape, Religion, and Race in Moravian Wachovia "Singleton's enlightening findings on plantation slavery life will undoubtedly constitute a reference point for future studies on Afro-Cuban archaeology."--Manuel Barcia, author of The Great African Slave Revolt of 1825: Cuba and the Fight for Freedom in Matanzas Cuba had the largest slave society of the Spanish colonial empire. At Santa Ana de Biajacas the plantation owner sequestered slaves behind a massive masonry wall. In the first archaeological investigation of a Cuban plantation by an English speaker, Theresa Singleton explores how elite Cuban planters used the built environment to impose a hierarchical social order upon slave laborers. Behind the wall, slaves reclaimed the space as their own, forming communities, building their own houses, celebrating, gambling, and even harboring slave runaways. What emerged there is not just an identity distinct from other North American and Caribbean plantations, but a unique slave culture that thrived despite a spartan lifestyle. Singleton's study provides insight into the larger historical context of the African diaspora, global patterns of enslavement, and the development of Cuba as an integral member of the larger Atlantic World.

In The Politics of Taste Ana María Reyes examines the works of Colombian artist Beatriz González and Argentine-born art critic, Marta Traba, who championed González's art during Colombia's National Front coalition government (1958–74). During this critical period in Latin American art, artistic practice, art criticism, and institutional objectives came into strenuous yet productive tension. While González’s triumphant debut excited critics who wanted to cast Colombian art as modern, sophisticated, and universal, her turn to urban lowbrow culture proved deeply unsettling. Traba praised González's cursi (tacky) recycling aesthetic as daringly subversive and her strategic localism as resistant to U.S. cultural imperialism. Reyes reads González's and Traba's complex visual and textual production and their intertwined careers against Cold War modernization programs that were deeply embedded in the elite's fear of the masses and designed to avert Cuban-inspired revolution. In so doing, Reyes provides fresh insights into Colombia's social anxieties and frustrations while highlighting how interrogations of taste became vital expressions of the growing discontent with the Colombian state.

This edited volume’s chief aim is to bring together, in an English-language source, the principal histories and narratives of some of the most significant academies and national schools of art in South America, Mexico, and the Caribbean, from the late 18th to the early 20th centuries. The book highlights not only issues shared by Latin American academies of art but also those that differentiate them from their European counterparts. Authors examine issues including statutes, the influence of workshops and guilds, the importance of patronage, discourses of race and ethnicity in visual pedagogy, and European models versus the quest for national schools. It also offers first-time English translations of many foundational documents from several significant academies and schools. This book will be of interest to scholars in art history, Latin American and Hispanic studies, and modern visual cultures.

According to national legend, Havana, Cuba, was founded under the shade of a ceiba tree whose branches sheltered the island’s first Catholic mass and meeting of the town council (cabildo) in 1519. The founding site was first memorialized in 1754 by the erection of a baroque monument in Havana’s central Plaza de Armas, which was reconfigured in 1828 by the addition of a neoclassical work, El Templete. Viewing the transformation of the Plaza de Armas from the new perspective of heritage studies, this book investigates how late colonial Cuban society narrated Havana’s founding to valorize Spanish imperial power and used the monuments to underpin a local sense of place and cultural authenticity, civic achievement, and social order. Paul Niell analyzes how Cubans produced heritage at the site of the symbolic ceiba tree by endowing the collective urban space of the plaza with a cultural authority that used the past to validate various place identities in the present. Niell’s close examination of the extant forms of the 1754 and 1828 civic monuments, which include academic history paintings, neoclassical architecture, and idealized sculpture in tandem with period documents and printed texts, reveals a “dissonance of heritage”—in other words, a lack of agreement as to the works’ significance and use. He considers the implications of this dissonance with respect to a wide array of interests in late colonial Havana, showing how heritage as a dominant cultural discourse was used to manage and even disinherit certain sectors of the colonial population.