CÉSAR CERVANTES
interview
Text: Willa Meredith
Photography: Caroline Lucia Smagacgz
MEXICO CITY / February 2024
When you google the iconic Luis Barragán house, Casa Pedregal, the listing denotes a museum. While it is open for public tours, it’s also the private home of my good friend, César Cervantes.
In classic Barragán style, its bright pink, modernist structure is expansively windowed, allowing an evolving interplay of light and shadow to unfold throughout the day: sharply cast shadows envelop the exterior in echoes of its planate forms, whereas light enters indirectly, diffusing the space with a numinous glow.
The volcanic rock formations indigenous to Pedregal extend from the garden into the house’s interior, emblematic of the Barragánian paradigm that is found in the architectural union of interior and exterior space. It came to me recently that César has done something similar in keeping his home open to the public, a gesture that dissolves the division between private home, museum, architectural paragon and public space.
We spoke at Tetetlán about César’s years as one of Mexico’s preeminent art collectors, the collection that he sold nearly in entirety two decades ago, and his experience restoring the energy and spirit of his home.
WILLA MEREDITH — Let’s begin with how you discovered the home.
CÉSAR CERVANTES — I had lived in this neighborhood all my life. Probably, I had the genetics or the intuition, but I liked the uniqueness of the neighborhood, the houses, the path of the streets, the landscape, and its surroundings. In the early 2000’s, I got involved in preserving the neighborhood and its relevance. Before this one, I had preserved and restored four houses. It was then that I discovered that Barragán had created the neighborhood. But, it was almost impossible to find more information or to see any of the three houses he built here, out of which only Casa Pedregal still exists today. I started looking more into Barragán, but to be honest, I didn't like him. The vox populi around him is very sad, it's full of lies or uncertainties, at least.
This is what happens when someone has prestige. When someone is simply famous, everybody goes with him around his fame. People tend to be more jealous of prestigious people. Even those supposedly close to him still don't know, or want to tell the true story. They kind of kidnapped Barragán with the version they had created of him. In addition to the discourse around Barragan, his houses that still existed were closed to the public, and with few exceptions were in bad shape or heavily altered. The context was not at all positive.
WM — Who were the previous owners?
CC — The Prieto family. Very nice people, and outstanding in how initially they believed in Barragán and in their own way did the best they could for his legacy. The house had not been inhabited for six years, it was almost abandoned. It was used, but not inhabited. There's a difference, when you use a house, but don't inhabit it, it loses part of its soul and little maintenance issues become important issues. The house had been for sale for six years. No one bought it, it was strange, but understandable.
Because of the state it was in? — That had something to do with it. For me, it was in bad shape, hard to read the spirit of the house. Not many knew about Barragán and his masterpieces at the time. It was not that everyone could see how bad it was, it was more so that they couldn't see how fantastic it was! On the one hand, it was the word of mouth around Barragán which was, and still is in some way terrible. And on the other side, all of his houses were in bad condition. So, at the time I didn't like him. I knew he was good, but it was not my cup of tea.
What was, then? — I was more into very modernist, functional houses. Diogenes the cynic was, and still is one of my inspirations. At the time, I felt I needed a small space, nothing exceeding basic needs. In this neighborhood, that was difficult to find, besides the house of one of Barragán’s colleagues, Max Cetto who happened to work with him on the plans and construction of Casa Pedregal. Anyway, the house was at risk of being altered forever or demolished. I was working on rescuing and preserving as much of the neighborhood as possible. I knew if I had interest in this neighborhood, that this house must be preserved. And I was not mistaken. I knew the house was important for the neighborhood and for the city. So, in one of those very irresponsible decisions, which is the only way I had made decisions, I decided to buy the house. I said, you know, I'll buy it, I'll restore it - because I love restoring houses - and then I will sell it. Nothing could go wrong. I didn't imagine living in the house more than a year after restoration.
Then what happened? — Each day as we were recovering the house, removing layers, removing dust, and pieces that did not belong to the house, the energy changed. Its mysticism reappeared. I began studying even more Barragán, not only by the book. This time deeper, I was looking for the people who met him, who worked for him, who really knew him. Not the “experts,” but people who knew him personally, discreetly, intimately and professionally on an uninterested level.
What did you learn? — That he is a fantastic guy. That he did not lose his mind over whatever was said about him. He never opened his intimate life or intimate thoughts. That he was not as religious or more religious than my grandfather was, which was the only way to be at that time. People always said he was gay. We don't know and dont care but there is for some an obsession with that. No one knows for sure. What I can confirm is that he was a fantastic man. I know that he fell in love with a couple of women, and at least a couple of women fell madly in love with him as well. That’s confirmed.
There is a book we are working on about him now, with personal and proven testimonies that will change the story. I've found he is one of my heroes now, one of the most beautiful people to have ever existed in Mexico. There were lots of rumors that he was super bourgeois. Far from being simply “bourgeois,” he was more of a Franciscan, even a kind of Diogenes for me, so I couldn't find better! His way of life, his philosophy of life, his style of living, his pleasure in sharing, his love for culture and traditions, the creation of these spaces that you know well. It's very particular, it's a house where you can feel perfect alone, really. Or with a friend or with your partner, or with a hundred people dancing…
Having fabulous parties…
— I love his elegance and simplicity at the same time. And, he was super humble in a very sophisticated way. So I got the house, finished it, and loved it. As soon as it was finished, a lot of people I tried to sell the house to before who initially declined now wanted to buy it. But this time it was me who said no, I don't want to sell. I don't know if I will ever sell it, not now for sure. Each day I love it more. I know one day I might leave it, as change as a way of evolution is part of my life.
Right, because around the time of the acquisition coincided with another big shift in your life. What happened?
— I had been collecting art since the mid-nineties. And then I got tired of it, really tired. There was no more I could do there and it was becoming entropic to look for more. It was starting to feel egoistic of me to keep looking for more. Enough is enough and we must all learn that in all regards.
What was it like before that moment came? — I was able to do something relevant, create a very good collection, work closely with my generation of artists, bringing back some local attention to artists that had died with no ample recognition, and collaborate together with wonderful people like Eugenio Lopez, Agustin Coppel, Moises Cosio and all the great people at that time that were part of Kurimanzutto, in giving Mexico a place in the art world. Twenty-five years ago, no one would talk about Mexico or Mexican artists. Of course there was a beautiful generation back in the fifties and sixties, with Tamayo, Orozco, Rivera, Covarrubias, Spratling, etcetera. But from the eighties until the mid nineties, nothing really happened. So, I wanted to create a beautiful collection not only of Mexican artists, but in Mexico. I'm still grateful for having had the intuition to participate and for all that I received in all ways for that stage of my life.
And the art world had also changed a lot by the time you left — For me, at that time, prices and the “art market” were still secondary to the art. It certainly wasn't the most important part as it is today. There was more solidarity in the art society. Little by little, as the whole world changed, the art market became the market that it is today in Mexico and as it had been in extreme capitalistic cities like New York and London. It has probably been that way all the time, but it was not as big or as obvious as it became in the early 2000’s, let’s say, after the first edition of Art Basel Miami, which occurred at the same time as 9/11. Everything changed dramatically. I realized that everything was becoming competition instead of solidarity. I didn't want to be a part of something that wasn't making me good anymore, or was not making good to most of the people. It simply changed. I decided to stop collecting, and then I decided to sell the collection.
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All at once? — Almost in the same year, but not all together. First I decided to take a break from collecting. And then I decided to sell. People say that I sold the collection to buy the house, but that is not true, it is just coincidence. I decided to sell my collection, and then after that, I said, well, I’ll buy the house. I was also selling my company at the time, also getting divorced. So no, it wasn't simply that I sold the collection to buy the house. I began to sell my collection, and then, I bought the house as part of a deep change or evolution in my life and its priorities. I believe I understood plastic art so well that I moved on. As you can see, there is no more art in the house.
Well, there is one piece on display, the John Cage score — Yes, there were a few pieces that when I sold were not considered art, or at least had no economic value - but a very deep personal significance for me.
I wrote about 4’33" in university. How did you get into John Cage? — I've never been in the mainstream of collecting. When I was collecting, I based my collection on lots of study and research. It all began with literature and art books that took me to the object and then back to the non object. The number of publications, exhibitions, galleries, let's say in the mid-2000’s was probably ten to twenty percent of what it is today. So at that time, if I could find an artist who really caught my thoughts, I would study him or her in depth. I would find out their sources of inspiration, or quotes that good writers or critics would make.
That's how I found John Cage. I saw him mentioned a couple times. I got into him when almost
no one in Mexico knew him. The high quality people I admired and learned from did remember and know about him. No one collected him here. His works were inexpensive. I got this score in Cologne from Walter Koenig. Regardless of the cost, I love his work, I still do. Last Saturday, we had a piano concert by Ana Gabriela Fernandez at home, and it was inspired by John Cage. When I sold my collection, I said, I will sell everything, except what was given to me as a gift, but, this was not a gift. I had a list with which I offered my collection and art book collection to my friends and no one ever pointed at, or thought much about this one.
I did [laughs]. I remember when I saw it for the first time, I had a moment — It's been there forever, since I renovated the house. So meaningful, and now even more after this conversation, it makes it obvious that it is one of those unique art pieces.
What was it like getting rid of everything - pretty easy? — Absolutely. There were very complex things, for example some people close to me in the market did not like it, or at least didn't like how I did it. Many galleries and many artists didn't like the fact that I was selling. So, I was discreetly boycotted. They tried to, at least. But I didn't care. I wasn't making a business. I didn't make the collection in order to speculate or make money. So I got the “boycott” and lost some people that I considered friends, people that I admired and to whom I will always be grateful. Grateful even for their attitude as I sold, because it further confirmed I had made the right decision.
They felt betrayed? — Not necessarily betrayed, I worked hard with all of them and paid for every single piece. Probably I was the first one to sell a collection in recent times and they didn't expect it or understand it or know how to react. They were thinking more on their own interests than on mines that we had built together. I’m not sure how to say it in English, but you can call it transfuga, like in the Vatican. With all humbleness, I don't know a case of a cardinal or bishop or archbishop resigning from Vatican catholicism, you know what I mean. No one resigns in the power coupoles. Whoever wants to, in my opinion, is killed before leaving the Vatican. That's why in Spanish we call it transfuga. At that particular time, when the art market was booming, my decision to sell was not taken well. And I don't want to be pretentious, but apparently they thought that my leaving or quitting might bring some other collectors to question what they were doing.
What did the fallout look like? — For instance, one of the world’s greatest collections I knew and admired was the Patricia and Gustavo Cisneros Collection, in New York. They were close at that time, I really appreciated and learned from them, and coincidentally enough they stopped collecting at the same time. They of course did it better than how I did. They only sold a little part of their collection, and donated most of it to the MoMa. Because for them too - and they were and are one of the biggest and greatest collections - the market had changed so much that it lost meaning.
It lost, how to say it, “enchantment” probably, no? Probably they as well had learned what life is about, there is much more to do than accumulate one same good. It became all about money. Before, the only thing that didn't matter was money. If you wanted that piece, and you were the right person for that piece, the artist and gallerist would help you get it, regardless of its price. Suddenly, it all became about money, fame and status. So, I decided to quit.
And some tried to boycott my decision, out of fear, or just by being someone who will raise questions. I don't want to give so much importance to my decision, but I feel it happened that way. Besides that, it was joyful and easy to sell. And life is not about the right answers, it is all about the right questions. I didn't know I had so much relevance in the market as when I made that decision. I was looking for the opposite, simply to leave a space, to be more discreet, and I was then heavily criticized and questioned. But, some celebrated and supported my decision.
From what it sounds like, you went from maybe, a very closed world, to having this house with an open door. Have you always been open like this? — It was the same when I collected art. The house was always open, there were always visitors, there were always dinners or parties. Art as you know it only happens the moment it is shared, viewed or attended by someone else besides its creator. I believe in sharing, and making art a way of living - and that has nothing to do with art pieces hung in your walls.
These words bring me to the John Cage score again, because was the idea behind the conceptual art movement: to transcend the commodity in favor of ideas and experiences. 4’33" is a paradigmatic example of that, in the way that it's not a work of art per se, but ephemera from a silent “performance." I see a parallel in your decision to sell your collection, and then move to this house whose spirit and energy you restored. Do you see a shared symbolism between your home and the Cage score? — Absolutely, yes, and more so after this conversation. I think there is much analysis and research still to be made around Barragán. One of course is his relationship to Japanese culture, the other, of many more, is his relationship with John Cage. We know he was a music lover, but the connection with John Cage deserves special attention. Probably as we speak, I realize that what John Cage did with 4’33", I did with plastic art: a reflection that turned into a supposedly silent piece, that ended up being lots of noise.
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Can you tell me more more about this incredible library [here at Tetetlán] that’s you keep open to the public — At the time I began collecting art, books were very important. One needed to be deeply informed before approaching a gallery or an artist. I had an unwritten rule that for every piece I bought or considered for the collection, I needed to read ten books around it before. Later, I discovered that mine was the opposite approach than is common today - people buy ten works, and hardly read one book. It’s very sad. Books are, and will always be very important for me. In the early 2000's, the internet was not as solid as it is now, so you were reading books. You couldn't find all the info on the internet. The library was still open in my former house. On Wednesdays, I had it open to students and artists for study.
So, another Barragán paradigm is his union of interior and exterior space. Recently it came to me that you do something similar. By opening your home to the public, you allow a union of the private and public spheres — Yeah, right. I never saw it that way, but I can't imagine having a library just for my own, or a collection just for my own. Some of the people I admire the most have wonderful collections, and they do try hard to share them, but, ninety percent is never on display, and probably twenty percent of that collection will never be, and probably ten percent will never leave the crate. I can't believe that. That's when the market changes. Because that's speculation. That's accumulation, and any accumulation leads to corruption, to inflation. And that is what the art market has become. Not in the very bad sense of the word, but it's very much about speculation and accumulation. Collections are no longer considered on their quality but on their quantity. It's not how it should be.
What’s an indicator of change on the level of artistic production in Mexico? I know in recent years it's blown up. There are so many artists here — It's blown up, not only in Mexico, but everywhere. But, twenty years ago, almost any artist, and I’m talking very relevant artists, the top Mexican artists of the time - didn't have an assistant. These same guys today have up to ten assistants working at their ateliers.
Do you mean that their hand is removed, in the sense that it’s become more about orchestrating an art operation? — More so that it's all about producing now. Not that that is bad, but it's a less personal situation now. Picasso had only two assistants his whole life, Duchamp never had an assistant, Goya never had an assistant. I'm probably being too romantic about the market and how it’s changed. But at the same time that you have ten assistants, you have ten times more social and economic compromises to make. So the whole thing changes. It all becomes about public relations, about where to be seen with whom to be seen. And I'm happy that the market grows, as the art market does, but on the other hand I cannot stop criticizing that it's tremendously anti-democratic. Increasingly, it becomes more and more for the very rich. So why would we want an extreme luxury market to grow? It would only generate imbalance.
If not polarity. — Yes. And sure, they will open up their exhibitions, but it's like giving limosna to the public. I don't like that, you know. Art should not only be “plastic art.” Art should be a way of life, trying to create art in every gesture and in every occasion, in every conversation.
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Visiting your home is an expansive experience. You feel part of and connected to it. It's much more inclusive than visiting a museum. — Expansive, yes. Collecting creates accumulation and an accumulation creates corruption. But people do think that by buying art they are becoming cultured and admired people, and it is not the case. Culture is something else, as said before it is a way of life, not only what you read or what you hang on your walls. Collecting has become more of a way to “show off” and an easy access to the “higher” social spheres. Collectors are looking for the well known names as if they were luxury brands. And gallerists have responded to it by opening more galleries in different cities.
Sort of like franchises or branches? — Yes, kind of like a franchise. They are chains now. From that time up until 2010, there were two or three who had galleries in multiple cities, and now everyone does. So where's the uniqueness? Forty years ago it was the car industry, around fifty years ago, it was the jewelry industry. No one could wear anything simple, it is all about excess. People had more cars than they needed. They were paying too much money. Now it's plastic art. What happens with contemporary art happens with fashion, it becomes about a display of status.
Are you interested in art today? — If you are talking about plastic arts, I don't really care much. I haven't seen something that makes me feel inspired. In terms of plastic art, there's so much to see. I don't even think collectors have the time to get to know their own pieces. Culture though, I still love and will always love. And of course my life still has a place for plastic art [gestures to paintings hanging on the walls of Tetetlán]. But I haven't been surprised or enchanted. There's not so much intellectuality in the work or society as artists pretend there is. I’m more worried about many other issues.
If not in art, where do you then go to find enchantment or inspiration? — It's crazy but, if we are honest, there is no better way to be inspired or enchanted or find serenity than by walking in a nice garden or park, or through a nice city. If you decide to be by the mountain or by the beach, it’s a wonderful way to get in touch and feel the universe and its magical energy. But then it gets monotonous. I think you need balance. At the beach you become open, get in touch with these basic, primal instincts. But you also need these big cities. You need the energy and the chaos, to complement both parts. Of course you can visit museums from time to time. If you ask me what museum I'd see in New York it would be The Met, The Met over the MoMa without question to learn about history. There are very few people who know about history. And that's a bit sad, they try to buy history by buying art. Few things as inspiring as a nice conversation.
Something that comes to mind are the times I've seen small gatherings at your house spontaneously turn into sound ceremonies. In one moment, it's a loud party, and in the next, there’s complete silence. And then the sound bowls start. I like those a lot. — That's fantastic. And it doesn't cost much. They are wonderful. You know, why not walk in a temple? They are places you really feel good, feel silence. Barragán got most of his inspiration from monastic places. So, if you ask me whether I want to go to a museum or a temple, I'll always say a temple. People today are not visiting temples. They're visiting galleries. So it ends up being all about noise. Visual noise, too, which is just as terrible as any other noise. I think it's excessive.
Yeah, almost like commercial signs vying for visibility. — The house's simplicity is the best. It's beautiful. There's nothing like simplicity. It's an open book that never ends. That was probably why before this house, no other Barragán house had been sold. Of the seven that still exist, none have been sold. Because you really don't want to leave that place. Something touches you hard so that you don't want to leave.
Do you mostly stay in the area?
— Si. I hardly leave.
I remember when we saw Destino, the performance at El Eco, you seemed jarred to be back in the city — Yes. That was a beautiful performance by Mario García Torres. I respect him very much. I think he's one of the greatest artists. That was almost two years ago. Besides that, I had only been to a gallery or contemporary art museum two or three times, which is a lot for me. And I don’t want to be the grinch of contemporary art. As much as I love opening my house and my books, I love opening questions, opening people’s way of thoughts. The more you see people going one way, the more you need to question that direction. In Mexico City, art is booming, probably more so than in New York, even though we don't have great museums or great open collections. Mexico City has always been a very creative city. It's fantastic to create.
How has it changed in recent years, with all the foreigners? — I wonder how long it will persist. How many of those people who have come in the past five years will stay? I think of what happened to Berlin. Thirty years ago, everyone moved there, and then it emptied out. We are, of course, very different cities. Mexico is used to being open. Historically, we have been a welcoming city and country. We are built on that.
To mention only recent times, almost a hundred years ago there was Lebanese migration which had a wonderful impact in Mexico. Then close to the forties, the Spanish immigration, then around WWII, mostly Germans, and then in the late sixties, Americans, and then Argentinians. We can't imagine what Mexico is today without the wonderful people who migrated. I'm positive the present migration into Mexico will help in creating a better Mexico and a better world. Migration generates more creation; people who migrate tend to be very creative and productive people.
I always imagine a day without political borders. It is interesting how countries are working on erasing their borders for products, for commercial trade and economic purposes, but for people they get tougher everyday. I think migration is fantastic. It's lovely, it's beautiful. And, the people coming here - from the States, Canada, and Europe - are not competing with Mexican jobs.
How has your experience of the home changed over the years, do you still make discoveries?— Its serenity is what I like and enjoy the most. Every day is a discovery, each day something new. There are unending possibilities. Spending the day at the garden is a lovely day. And it's so simple. And that's another thing about plastic arts these days. It is no longer simple. Back in the day it was. Now it's all about calling attention and about competition.
The art world can be a lot of fun. — In the art world we find a lot of interesting people. Some of the people I admire most, I found through art. There are always good parties, interesting people around culture, not necessarily around contemporary art. It's fun because these parties are attended by the kind of people who are more attracted to a gallery opening or an art party than a football game.
What about a basketball game! — That's at least our little section. I don't know about the rest. But if we at least want to go to a little party, after a Capitanes game, we will have as much fun as we would at any art party.
Do you have any secret stories from parties here? — The house is full of them. I don't have them. There's a great friend of mine who is encouraging me to do either a book or a film on the house. It might happen, and lots of great anecdotes will pop up.
I love this idea. — They said I should put little cameras or tape recorders. I said, I would never do that!
That’s too bad [laughs] — Everything happens here. It's so lovely. All I get is very good comments and anecdotes. Nothing bad has ever happened. I think it has to do with the spirit of the house.
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Definitely, there is a different energy here. — For some reason, I like that there is no plastic art, it creates a different context.
There are lots of amazing objects on display. — Those are very related to time, these are things to open questions. I have a few beautiful Japanese objects. I’ve had people from Japan come to visit the house on a tour and not even know their story. I think to myself, please, let's not lose contact with our traditions. It's important to not ever lose contact with history or traditions. I believe our only borders should be traditions. But then again, North Americans, particularly from the United States, have no connection to tradition. In Canada, I believe your relationship to the Native Americans has never been really lost. Not like Americans.
It's complicated. Our indigenous heritage has been commodified and marketed in a very crass way. You see Native American symbols mainly in tourist shops, for example. It's challenging to feel connected to culture in Canada. Because we’re a “new country,” we don’t have connection with wisdom traditions, or any, really — Right now it’s all about consuming, feeling you're part of something just by consuming. Polarity is growing. And I think being open reduces polarity.
Being open in what sense? — Being open in the sense of opening your home, sharing. I question being open all the time. I question being open with my house, the way that I am all the time. But I like it, and it is a process of not only opening the house or library, it's about opening and sharing thoughts, actions, projects.
Well, it means a lot. When you say “it's your house,” you really mean it. I have heard you say it to many people. Still, I was surprised to see so many strangers walking around inside the house the other day — It lets you see something else. Not only the house, but the way we live in the house.
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