Mariana Yampolsky Helga Prignitz-Poda
Mariana Yampolsky (b. September 6, 1925, Chicago; d. May 3, 2002, Mexico City) was just seventeen years old when, in 1945, she courageously knocked on the door of the Taller de Gráfica Popular (People’s Graphics Workshop, TGP). As she did not know the house number and spoke no Spanish, it had taken her a long time to find the workshop. The daughter of art-loving parents, in 1944 she had completed her bachelor’s degree at the Art Institute of Chicago. There she attended a lecture by Max Kahn and Conny Kahn in which they spoke of their period as guest artists at the TGP. The TGP artists’ social aspiration—to use their art in the service of people struggling against oppression—struck a chord with Yampolsky. Both her parents had fled the Nazi regime. Her father had just died, and she was seeking a fresh start. José Sánchez opened the door to me. He was the TGP’s printer. He didn’t speak a word of English and I didn’t speak a word of Spanish. But he understood what I wanted, he let me in and conveyed to me that somebody would be there later. . . . The first person to arrive was Pablo O’Higgins. A great mango of a man, large and robust, with thick hair that he always combed with his fingers. I don’t believe he ever had a real comb but only ever made this gesture of simply pushing his hair back. I spoke to him in English and he answered, beaming: “¡Cómo No! Pase Usted. . . . ¡Quédate! Hoy en la noche hay una reunión del taller. . . . ¿Y dibujas? Sí. Has de ser muy buen dibujante.” [Of course! Come in. . . . Stay! We have a workshop meeting tonight. . . . And do you draw? Yes. I am sure you are excellent at drawing.] He immediately saw everything so positively. Everything about this man was joyful. I was very relieved that I could speak to somebody there. And soon his twin arrived: a big man like him, but with brown skin and dark hair. Pablo was blond and almost white, 356
and in came this second mango with brown skin and black hair. Both were outstandingly beautiful. They were like night and day; everyone who knew them called them Café con leche. That was my introduction to the TGP. It was one of the most significant experiences of my life. Aside from their immense artistic talent in drawing and painting, they were also extraordinarily friendly and intelligent people. . . . They immediately accepted me, and a few months later I became a member.1 Yampolsky became the youngest member and, initially, the only woman in the group. Everyone agreed that the TGP was not an art academy, neither was it a workshop which enabled the most talented artists to shine. It was effectively a cooperation between all the members. There was a common desire, which in the best of times was very sincere, to progress, to learn everything. This was the great experience of the workshop and its great value. Everyone consciously worked to improve themselves, both artistically and politically.2 Although she had initially planned to stay in Mexico for only one year, Yampolsky was quickly seized by the group’s enthusiasm and ended up staying for the rest of her life. She taught at the art school La Esmeralda (from 1944 to 1948) and subsequently, from 1949 onward, at the Escuela de Artes del Libro (School of the Arts of the Book). From July 1945 to 1960, Yampolsky was an active member of the TGP, participating regularly in the weekly meetings and contributing enthusiastically to collective projects. After she had become acquainted with graphic techniques, she also became a member of the directive committee, which changed every year, and by 1948 she was on the TGP’s managing