Exceeds one thousand one hundred signatures appeal of Cuban intellectuals and artists. A sovereign and dignified document, which defends the essence of the Cuban nation, the president wrote on the social network Twitter.

He added that in the tweet that “He has received the support of 90 intellectuals, artists and social activists from 16 countries”, to which he added the hashtag #CubaVive.

The Message from Cuban scientists, educators, journalists, writers and artists to their colleagues from other countries, published a few days ago in the cultural magazine La Jiribilla, already exceeds 1,100 signatures and expresses the feelings of Cuban civil society, led in this case by leading scientists, educators, journalists, writers and artists from all over the country.

This list is prestigious, more than 50 National Prizes of the different artistic manifestations and of Philosophy and History and several journalists awarded the José Martí National Prize for Journalism, highlights the newspaper Juventud Rebelde.

Among the signatures that were added once the document was published, are the scientists Jorge Berlanga, Guadalupe Guzmán and Miguel Limia; the educators Gilberto García Batista and Marta Prieto, the journalists Luis Sexto, Randy Alonso and Rosa Miriam Elizalde.

Also the writers Antón Arrufat and Reinaldo González and the artists Pancho Amat, Haila María Mompié, Bobby Carcassés, Rosario Cárdenas, Manuel Pérez Paredes, Isabel Santos, Eslinda Núñez, Zaida del Río, Roberto Diago and Eduardo Roca Salazar (Choco), among others. many intellectuals and artists of great public recognition.

Likewise, the document has received the support of 90 intellectuals, artists and social activists from 16 countries, led by Frei Betto, Ignacio Ramonet, Atilio Borón, Salim Lamrani, Cecilia Todd, María Eugenia Mudrovcic, Fernando Buen Abad and Héctor Díaz Polanco, among others. others of great prestige and proven commitment to the Cuban Revolution.

(With information from ACN)

Today Pinar del Río, Isla de la Juventud, Artemisa, Mayabeque and Havana have suffered from the devastating passage of a hurricane, with Pinar being the most affected region.

I have not seen publications in support of the people who have now lost their homes, their property and more in just 6 hours. Nor have I seen the free concerts of those who coincidentally were next to the town on 11J. There have been exceptions: the renowned singer-songwriter Raúl Paz went to Pinar to sing to the people about him in the middle of the blackout, helped by a small power plant.

Another one who joined the aid work and concrete actions was Kcho together with his brigade, Marta Machado, also Raúl Torres, and many troubadours from various regions of the country. But even in other harsh recent events such as the fire at the Matanzas tanker base, for example, similar actions were carried out by the artist Michel Mirabal, the singer-songwriter Nelson Valdés Viera, theater projects for children, the AHS, troubadours from Santa Clara, Santiago and more.

But I’m still waiting for the mega free concerts and statements on networks from those who have been on the side of the people since such symbolic dates as 11J. It is worth wondering how within hours of that date they were already setting positions; however it has been more than a week of Ian and they still haven’t written or said anything.

Or is there a town for some things and not for others?

My respects in public for these great Cuban artists and for those who are now preparing to leave for Pinar del Río

(By: Oni Acosta Llerena)

I admire the consistency between Fidel’s words, his actions and the subsequent work of the Revolution – the possibilities Cuba has created for the development of artists and intellectuals.

One must struggle and win, one must live and love,

One must laugh and dance, one must die and create. Sara Gonzalez

If it were only a picture, it would not be worth the effort, photos fade in time, but those of us who did not live the moment are not told enough. This is why I have listened to and read, several times, the speech Fidel delivered in June of 1961, at the National Library, which has gone down in history as his “Words to Intellectuals.”

Sixty years later, I imagine that young man without the imposition of protocols of a bourgeois diplomacy, speaking casually to a large audience, full of young people like himself, as well as artists and intellectuals who saw the triumph of the Revolution arrive with long, well-established careers.

What triumphed in Cuba in 1959 was, above of all, a cultural revolution. We know that culture is not only artistic-literary creation, with much more than a cognitive dimension. Culture is the DNA of a society, its representations, its practices; its aspirations are the motivations of its subjects. Culture is the ethics of a process.

When the Revolution assumed government power, a struggle between the past and the present arose in Cuba over the construction of a different reality, a culture to uproot preconceived lifestyles, ways of understanding and functioning in society; to demystify the customs and supposed good practices based on oppressive laws, controlling an active subject who understands what is established as the only possible reality.

This is how Revolution became synonymous with sovereignty, because the ethics of an underdeveloped island, without industrialization, economically and culturally dependent on another government, is subjected to the globalization of its basic practices, with a mixed identity openly moving toward annexation.

Within the homeland everything, against the homeland nothing; and at the same time, homeland is synonymous with the people.

Imagining the sociological plane of the time, without decontextualizing, I listen to Fidel’s voice, without renouncing my own subjectivity as an artist, because no one lives devoid of passions, not even the speaker who recognizes it in his own “Words.”

What I have learned in reviewing his speech is very personal, experience and knowledge influence the way we receive a message. Nevertheless, there were clear principles in Fidel’s speech to his contemporaries, the first of which is to recognize that a revolution, like the work of any artist, is not made for future generations; a revolution becomes posterity when it is made by and for the men and women of the present.

The current generation needs its own natural epic, its own words; what now seems obsolete must be re-thought, in order to remain loyal to the sense of the historical moment evident in every sentence Fidel spoke in June of 1961.

“Words to the Intellectuals” set the stage for what would become Cuban cultural policy, but it did not impose formulas for methods. Fidel proclaimed the right of a revolution to defend itself when it has emerged of necessity and the will of a people, although that does not mean that the government, acting on behalf of the people and within the law, is infallible.

The Revolution’s practice in the years following Fidel’s speech confirmed its commitment to defend freedoms, to facilitate the free exercise of creation for artists, and the means, moreover, to do so.

The Union of Cuban Writers and Artists (Uneac), founded in August of 1961, was itself a product of discussions between artists and the highest state authorities. It gave shape to the natural association of creators, bringing them together to address the problematic issues involved in making art. The organization served to facilitate permanent dialogue between the artistic community and institutions implementing the country’s cultural policy.

When, during a gray five-year period, political fanaticism and the misinterpretation of ideas took their toll on the personal lives of some artists and the ghost of defined parameters mutilated their work, lessons were also learned. In the first place, the damage that can be done by power in the hands of a bureaucrat was confirmed, but loyalty was strengthened as well, among artists who understood that censorship, persecution and immoral attempts to discredit others are anathema to revolutionaries, practices befitting only opportunists and cowards.

The Revolution never remained static; the Ministry of Culture was created to replace an ineffective entity given the new reality of Cuban art and intellectuality and, progressively, progress was made in efforts to ensure that artists had opportunities to debate, express constructive criticism and real participation in the decisions and processes related to their work.

Today, in the 21st century, I admire, more than anything, the consistency between Fidel’s words, his actions and the subsequent work of the Revolution – the spaces and possibilities that Cuba has created for the development of artists and intellectuals, the organizations in which we meet and the President of the Republic’s support of free, emancipatory art.

Nonetheless, many of the challenges of the present are much the same as the first Cuba faced. Cultural institutions cannot let discussions be repeated without finding solutions to problems, or at least making visible the work underway to solve them, and addressing not only issues in the realm of material needs and services, but especially on the qualitative and moral plane.

No just struggle can be manipulated for reactionary purposes. Artists’ organizations must keep criticism alive and subordinate themselves to the members they represent, along with the commitment to develop and promote vanguard art to expand the population’s ability to discriminate and appreciate, to contribute to the spiritual growth and human fulfillment of Cubans.

In revolutions everything happens at the same time. During Fidel’s 1961 meeting with artists and intellectuals in the National Library, echoes could be heard of mercenary shrapnel in Playa Giron, of the songs and mourning of our first victory. “Words to the intellectuals” forged consensus among the country’s artists and intellectuals, another great victory against internal enemies, sectarianism, dogma, intolerance and political fundamentalism.

In June of 1961, a revolutionary pact was established, based on a lucid understanding of the role of art, not as propaganda for a particular political line, but as service to the people. Its virtues continue to lie in consistency and coherence, in everyone doing their part, and doing it well, fulfilling the commitment we have made to society. Morality and truth are a bare wall against which any speculation fails.

(Taken from Granma)

Artists, when they are genuine and their projects are based on popular expression, do not easily succumb to the interests of third parties who often start out disguised as authentic, to later be exposed as vile posers.

Conducting a quick review of renowned names in universal art, we will notice that the most honorable have always acted in a principled manner, paying a significant political – and economic – price in their careers, but able to sleep with a clear conscience and peace of mind. Reading classics like Shakespeare and Goethe is enough to understand much of the wickedness that permeates the human psyche which these authors only portray in the shadows of some of their works, the inherent evil of those who, like Faust, sell their souls to the devil.

But we could ask ourselves just how expensive doing so can be, or not, and why some have preferred to choose the path of no return, knowing that like Goethe’s unfortunate character, they will never again be able to look back.

On the ever-changing battlefield of virtual warfare or cultural hyperconfrontation, to which we find ourselves obliged to respond, several individuals have achieved Pyrrhic victories and celebrate among their kind. But, to be honest, the taste of success is short-lived, since even if their deeds are considered accomplishments, they do not escape the aforementioned descriptor.

The empire devotes millions of dollars on attempts to make our culture invisible, and music is a top priority. Is not this industry one of the most profitable in recent years? Is it not one they depend on to keep us mesmerized like zombies?

Thus, the creation of negative values, the denial of talent and constant attacks on strong musical expressions have been – and are – key elements of the neoliberal strategy focused on destroying anything that smells of Revolution. A society created and sustained by pseudo musical values, in which rapacious consumption and the appropriation of codes of violence are increasingly profitable, is what they want to impose on those of us who resist the cultural hegemony created in laboratories and foundations with interventionist goals.

Unfortunately, some succumb to the unbridled song of sirens, while others -most – cover their ears like the wise Ulysses, not deceived like 21st century fools. They do not care to live for crumbs, for visas or legal residence, for small change to perform in low-rent venues.

What they get in return for this honorable position is a miserable media campaign to discredit them, internet lynchings and the dramatic hysteria of the sell-outs – some of whom go so far as to join calls for an invasion of Cuba, as if this were not an act of treason, annexationism and genocide. Some have exchanged giant stages for a dive bar where they waste away singing 45 minutes, for an audience of 150. These few are, no doubt, the Fausts and Macbeths of our times, the same demons that inspired Goethe and Shakespeare, who would not hesitate to murder those they once considered family.

(Taken from Granma)

Lezama Lima readjusts his tie knot for the last time, picks up the folder of documents resting on the living room mantle, and goes out onto Trocadero Street, where a ‘57 Chevrolet awaits. Before getting into the vehicle, he responds to the greetings of two militia members with their M-52 Czech rifles conversing on the sidewalk, and buys a newspaper from a street vendor passing by.

It is August 22, 1961, and I imagine him heading to the Chaplin Theater, in Miramar, where Fidel had promised to close the first Congress of Cuban Writers and Artists. Along the way, he reads the newspaper and a discordant editorial catches his attention. The Congress is big news, with two days of sessions in the Habana Libre’s Ambassadors Hall, led by Nicolás Guillén. But along with a short report of a cultural nature are other articles paradoxically expressing barbarities.

This was not strange, however, in these times. When recalling a cultural event of the era, images come to mind of long elegant halls, with opulent chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and walls covered with oil paintings, but with more persons in attendance wearing militia uniforms than coats and ties.

In the upper left hand corner of the newspaper’s front page is a report on the capture of another terrorist among those who, two months earlier, had set the Riesgo movie theater on fire, in Pinar del Rio, leaving 26 children burned. Below appears a chronicle relating what had occurred the previous Friday in Camagüey, when a band of terrorists shot up a social club, injuring eight civilians. One headline in bold lettering announces: Bomb Factory Discovered. And another: Compensation demanded from U.S. for mercenaries captured in Playa Girón.

At the stoplight on Linea, they see a caravan of trucks carrying armed militia members, heading to operations in the Escambray Mountains, the driver comments, saying that there is talk of thousands of counterrevolutionaries killing campesinos and young teachers. Lezama glances at him and murmurs a prayer to the angel of death. Tell me about it, the driver says, and suddenly animated, adds: Just two weeks ago, I was real close to the fight, coming out of the Fin de Siglo store when the bomb exploded inside. I saw them bringing out a man covered in blood.

But we are no longer surprised by the perseverance of those who continue to work for culture faced with those intent upon destroying it. I remember how they bombed the Riviera Hotel dance hall in Havana, and set the Negrete movie theater on fire, during that era. But institutions and schools continued to inaugurated across the entire country.

Lezama instinctively touches the folder at his side They say Prime Minister Fidel Castro is a hurricane of questions, but he has all the data about the editorial plan in the folder. Since last year, he has held the position of director in the National Culture Council’s department of literature and publishing, and there is nothing the Comandante could ask that he would not be able to answer.

He remembers an anecdote from the times when Fidel decided to establish the national printing facility, in 1959. A doubtful friend commented that what he expected to see published were manuals for the militia and pamphlets of ideological propaganda. Certainly, this would have been natural, given the circumstances. Since the triumph of the Revolution, not a single day had passed without a terrorist attack, including dozens of phosphorous bombings.

Nonetheless, the facility was not created for indoctrination or military instruction. The first book published was a massive run of Don Quixote, followed by works from Rubén Darío, César Vallejo, Pablo Neruda, and Nicolás Guillén. Lezama himself had the responsibility of selecting the contents and editing a three-volume Anthology of Cuban Poetry.

Poetry, not bombs, they said, although the publishing house also printed thousands of guides for the Literacy Campaign underway. No doubt, this effort was the largest cultural event to ever take place in the country, with 250,000 instructors teaching more than 700,000 persons to read and write.

Lezama recalls how difficult it was to publish and distribute books before the triumph of the Revolution. Eliseo Diego once approached him, very depressed, saying he didn’t know what to do with the 300 copies he had of his grand book of poetry En la calzada de Jesús del Monte. Lezama, who already had plenty of experience with literary bankruptcy, advised him, “Divide the copies in three groups: the first will be for friends and poets you admire. The second, for those you would like to interest; and the third, for those who do not interest you, but whose knowledge of the publishing of your new title is convenient.”

But the intense cultural work of the nascent Revolution did not only include the literary world. In these early days, a variety of institutions were strengthened, including the National Ballet of Cuba, the National Library, and the San Alejandro Institute of Visual Arts. Construction resumed on the National Theater and founded were the Symphony Orchestra, the Casa de las Américas, the Cuban Institute of Cinematographic Arts and Industry (Icaic), as well as the Ethnology and Folklore Institute among others.

As a product of the intense debates Fidel held with distinguished artists and writers June 16, 23 and 30, of 1961, at the National Library, the proposal to found UNEAC emerged.

The car takes First Avenue toward the Chaplin Theater. In the lobby, several friends approach to congratulate Lezama. The leadership of Uneac is already a known secret – a secret of Polichinela, he would say – with Nicolás Guillén as president and Alejo Carpentier as first vice president, while he would assume one of the vice presidencies.

Fidel’s speech was exhilarating, and new endeavors were announced. Lezama seemed to be dreaming aloud, with thousands of art instructors creating theater groups, choirs, and dance choreographies in the countryside and small towns across the country. “This is a utopia,” someone behind him whispered, but he did not turn to see who it was. Very slowly, he stood, perhaps recalling something he had written that morning: “When you are standing, it seems you are growing, but inside, toward a dream. No one can be aware of this growth.”

(Source: Granma)

With the topics debated, the agreements adopted and, above all, the interiorization of revitalized arguments to carry out intellectual work in our complex social environment, we honored Fidel’s words, in their just measure, commemorating that foundational event, and at the same time were honored and encouraged to share a day with President Miguel Díaz-Canel, during which he defined concepts and outlined crucial challenges in the field of culture, with uncommon clarity.

His words placed the essence of Fidel’s words in a new and updated context, valuable not only for Cuban writers and artists, but for broad sectors of our society, who are aware that culture builds and saves, and that its content and ways of functioning are decisive in fostering the ethical and aesthetic values to which we aspire.

Over the year since the Congress, follow-up on proposals continued non-stop, even though the health emergency imposed an unforeseen hiatus these last few months.

Moving from the identification of problems to the search for solutions has been addressed in dialogue between the highest leadership of the state and the government, and representatives of agencies, cultural institutions and UNEAC. At this point, paths have been charted to create a vision of a model of institutions that respond fully to the imperatives of cultural policy and its projection into the ever-growing and influential media spectrum.

This implies, on the one hand, not only a leap in quality in the integration of programs and proposals, but also urgently needed changes in mentality in the way such processes are conducted; and on the other, debate and decision-making with full but differentiated implementation of national policies, since cultural life takes place and is decided locally.

The initial foundations have also been laid to address one of the demands of writers and artists, reflected in Díaz-Canel’s observations regarding the urgency of rethinking structures and roles of enterprises in the sector, particularly, but not only, those in the music industry. Only in this way can the premises be established to face the challenges posed by the President when he said: “Why haven’t we, in Cuba, managed to insert, disseminate and export the creations of those who work within the country and, instead, promote and replicate what the market has already produced and returns to us wrapped in its rules? What do our institutions need to make our most authentic cultural creations flourish? (…) Culture can and must contribute to the country’s Gross Domestic Product, and this is the purpose its companies.”

UNEAC’s contributions to the National Program against Racism and Racial Discrimination, launched in November last year, and to the re-launching of the Culture and Tourism Commission, which involves the ministries of both sectors, evidence the participatory vocation of Cuba’s intelligentsia.

As the country moves toward a new normal, proposals relating to educational institutions and programs, community cultural work, problems linked to the art market and cultural industries, gender equity and the revitalization of international cultural relations must be substantial.

Of course, artistic and literary creation and its promotion will be in the foreground, which is the raison d’être of UNEAC. This production has shown itself to be diverse and complex, but above all committed to the destiny of the nation, in times like these, when imagination has overcome limitations and found alternatives to win over audiences. A production that demands even greater rigor, excellence, relevance, audacity and penetration power.

Díaz-Canel’s concluded his words at the UNEAC Congress, saying: “Do not let this Congress die. Work to make a reality of everything you understand can contribute to the good of the nation, to its spirituality, to the future that those who have not been able to destroy us want to deny us.”

(Source: Granma)
The Congress is alive.

On August 6, 1949, just four years after the nuclear genocide in Hiroshima, prominent figures in Cuban culture, including Fernando Ortiz and Juan Marinello from Havana, and Nicolás Guillén, then traveling through Europe, took the lead in developing civic consciousness in favor of world peace and social justice. Now, two decades into the 21st century, the imperative is to unite all possible forces to curb the arms race, the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, the deterioration of social conditions, and environmental degradation on a planetary scale.

Upholding these causes, a colloquium to commemorate the birth of the Cuban Movement for Peace and Sovereignty of the Peoples took place in the headquarters of the Union of Cuban Writers and Artists, under the auspices of these two organizations and the Nicolás Guillén Foundation.Miguel Barnet, honorary UNEAC president; Nicolás Hernández Guillén, president of the Foundation, essayist Caridad Massón, and Alina Fernández Arias, from the Movement’s executive, addressed various historical aspects of the evolution of struggles for world peace and their particular reflection in Cuba, the commitment of artists and intellectuals, and the relevance of providing messages with a deeply humanistic content, along with the defense of popular struggles for national liberation and against neoliberal attacks on the continent.

Participants thanked the contributions to the colloquium of friends from the Valencian community. Javier Parra, graphic artist and general secretary of the country’s Communist Party, donated to the Cuban Movement for Peace and Sovereignty of the Peoples a series of images he created of Cuban revolutionary heroes, and recalled his countryman Josep Renau (1907-1982), a prominent artist, anti-fascist fighter committed to responsible and tenacious pacifism.

Some lines by Guillén, written in 1978, reflect the spirit of the event: The flowers burn, the laughter flies / the chorus spreads its expanding voice / from beach to beach, from sky to sky / from sea to sea … / Death hides its frightful face / no bomb flash, no salty tears / only songs of life and struggle / only songs of love and peace.

(Granma)

Honored were 71 composers, performers, pedagogues, researchers, and promoters from several generations and provinces, representing music’s many fields.

A resolution by the Ministry of Culture granting the awards, read by Marta Bonet, vice president of the Cuban Institute of Music, outlined the careers of those honored, who received their medals from Díaz-Canel; Minister of Culture Abel Prieto; and Miguel Barnet, president of the Union of Cuban Writers and Artists (UNEAC).

In name of the prizewinners, saxophonist, composer, and band leader César Alejandro López, spoke, recalling how the Revolution made the artists’ careers possible, and how, in his case, he was able to attend an art school established in Camagüey as part of a cultural educational program promoted by Comandante en Jefe Fidel Castro.

“That is why,” he said, “at this time, from the bottom of my heart, I say: Thank you, Fidel, because as the song by Raúl Torres goes, we are grateful.”

Musicologist Jesús Gómez Cairo, director of the National Museum of Music, emphasized the honorees’ commitment to Cuban culture and the values that define our identity.

Sharing the moment were several winners of the National Prize for Music, in addition to Party leaders from other provinces.

(Granma)