culture

On the side of one of Panama’s “red devils,” the extravagantly painted buses which provide public transportation in the capital, artist Andrés Salazar (1955-) chose to depict himself as Superman. Salazar stands chiseled in his blue tights and cape, and he raises his brushes in a clenched hand. Next to him, a banner informs the viewers that this Panamanian hero is: “breaking down barriers.” If the portrait seems exaggerated or even humorous, one must remember the nature of bus painting and its tendencies for spectacle, for hyperbole, and self-promotion. The decorators are fundamentally commercial artists who are employed in a fiercely competitive sector. Dozens of small entrepreneurs operate Panama’s bus system, and these rivals hire the painters to help beat out their adversaries. The hope is to attract the attention of potential passengers and to lure them in with vibrant patterns, bombastic statements, and with eye-catching portrayals of actors and other celebrities. The architects of these designs often depict themselves in the imagery, or they mark them with their flamboyant signatures, in order to gain business and to build their reputations. Through much of the 1980s and 90s, Salazar was the genre’s dominant figure, and in several ways, he transformed himself into an extraordinary person, worthy of the title of “Afro-Panamanian Superman.”


Salazar was born and raised in Panama City, and studied at the National School of Fine Arts. His years at the academy undoubtedly influenced his development, but probably more decisive in his formation were the informal contacts of his community. These acquaintances led him away from museums and galleries and instead encouraged Salazar to demonstrate his talents in Panama’s garages and on the streets of the capital. The city still boasts a large cadre of painters who function outside conventional artistic settings and who plaster their works onto the walls of restaurants, bars, hotels, and many similar establishments. If these images basically function to draw in customers, they also offer occasions for inspired individual expression. Today, terrific examples of these opportunities can be found in the capital’s numerous black barbershops, many of which teem with portraits of reggae stars, soccer players, boxers, and brassy hip-hop singers. As a young man, Salazar fell under the influence of this tradition. He interacted with artists such as Rubén Darío Coya, Billy Madriñán, and Teodoro Jesús de Villarué. All of them had decorated buses for several decades, as well as cantinas, stores, and other businesses. They readily shared their knowledge with the younger generations and encouraged the extension of this inventive Panamanian custom. In the mid-1970s, Salazar began to follow their example and gradually reshaped it with his own perspective.


Salazar was one of Panama’s early airbrush masters, and he used this instrument to strengthen a long-established tendency of the red devils to “cannibalize” aspects of popular culture and to transform them into astonishing symbols of blackness. Drawing on traditions of Afro-Latin American aesthetics, he appropriated the prestige of these symbols and icons and mixed them with rhythms, zigzags, and colors to create compositions which were difficult to ignore. Indeed, who could disregard a scene of Monica Lewinsky smiling broadly at a flushed-faced President Clinton, framed on a bus’s emergency door and surrounded by rings of multihued crisscrosses? Salazar’s red devils tended to be extravagant and were packed with faces, cartoons, and slogans. The visual impact on the city was dramatic. The buses became its most compelling element, according to many visitors during this period, who commented on the vehicles’ startling presence and how they were mesmerized by their multiple cadences, as well as their lights, their thundering horns and music.

Over the years, Salazar produced hundreds of red devils, whose rise coincided with the emergence of reggae and contributed to Panama’s increasing African diasporic character. Simultaneously, middle-class and professional organizations were beginning to reorganize the Afro-Panamanian community and to press for such landmark achievements as the designation of May 30 as the “Day of Black Ethnicity” (2000). Salazar represents another aspect of this movement. His involvement was more at the street level and contributed to an everyday assertion of blackness in a country which has traditionally downplayed its African cultural legacies. He helped to foment a powerful artistic medium which celebrates and even flaunts a black, working-class identity. In the process, he also transformed himself into an influential teacher. Dozens of assistants have labored under his direction, and many of them have continued Salazar’s "explosive" style of painting. Today César Córdoba, one of the capital’s leading artists, is among the master’s numerous former students.


In recent years, Black Superman’s battles have become more personal in nature. At the beginning of this decade, he was struck with a serious illness, and has valiantly struggled to maintain his health and vocation. Salazar’s life has not been easy. Nevertheless even today, he remains an active painter, and his impressive works appear regularly in the capital, offering testimony of his creativity and his influence in helping to “break down barriers.”