by Peter Carroll, ALBA Chair
from "The Volunteer"
Spring 1996

Two girls take shelter beneath a stone bridge; their eyes search the skies: "The fascist aircraft flies over the capital [sic] of the republic. What are you doing to take cover?"

A mother and child shudder beneath a flock of fascist planes: "Madrid -- What are you doing to stop this?"

A mother clutches her baby's corpse: "Criminales!"

A goggled pilot looks at the squadron of Republican airplanes: "Victory: Today more than ever."

Sixty years ago, innumerable gorgeous, passionate posters screamed from the walls of Spain's cities -- stunning, luminescent images that articulated the dangers of fascist terror, the importance of public resistance, and the opportunities that would follow a victory of the people.

Everyone who visited the embattled Republic understood the power of this unique fort of art: strong visual scenes in a variety of artistic styles matched to terse, defiant rhetoric designed to strengthen morale, impart lessons, spread news and advice, offer a reason to go on fighting.

There were, for example, images of women in diverse settings: fighting milicianas with rifles at the ready, nurses preparing transfusions, sainted mothers seeking to save their children, field workers with scythe and pitchfork in hand, athletes with bulging muscles, prostitutes reaching out the deadly hand of VD.

And these familiar wartime scenes appeared in various artistic styles: realism, art deco, surrealism, hasty watercolor sketches, photomontages. But whatever the technique or style, the messages were transparent, crystal clear, accessible to the busy, often illiterate masses who understood the stakes of the war.

American volunteers in Spain commented frequently about this remarkable public art. Sometimes they posed for photographs in front of the posters or folded them into tight envelopes and mailed them to relatives and friends in America. Or, at the end of the fighting, they packed them into bundles of souvenirs and carried them home.

Over the years, many of these posters have found their way into ALBA's archival collection at Brandeis University. We now hold over 200 different posters, many of them restored to assure their safe preservation. During the 1986 50th anniversary commemorations of the Spanish Civil War, some were exhibited at Dartmouth College, where they provided a vivid backdrop to a series of panel discussions about the war.

At Brandeis they have appeared in library exhibitions and public forums. Copies of the posters have been reprinted in various books, among them Lincoln veteran John Tisa's The Palette and the Flame.

Now, to mark the 60th anniversary of the Spanish war, ALBA is launching a major national exhibition of the Spanish Civil War posters that will bring the wall art to a new generation of viewers. Thanks to a generous grant from the Puffin Foundation, Shouts From the Wall opens in New York City at the Puffin Gallery on April 19 and runs until May 30. located at 435 Broome St. in the SoHo section, the gallery is open Wednesday to Saturday, 12 noon to 6 p.m.

Curated by ALBA's Cary Nelson and myself, the exhibition includes 35 original posters, substantial wall texts, and a special Lincoln Brigade album consisting of photographs, wartime letters, and a color copy of the only wall newspaper to survive the war intact.

But New York is only the launching pad. In June, the poster exhibition moves for a six-week appearance at the Berkeley Art Center in California (June 20 - August 10), then goes to the Museum of Albuquerque in New Mexico (August 30 - October 13) and ends the year at the Jacob Lawrence Gallery at the University of Washington in Seattle (November 6 - December 22). At each location, the posters will be linked with other public activities: lectures, panel discussions, screenings of films, gatherings of Lincoln veterans, families, friends.

The road show continues in 1997: The Meadows Art Museum at Centenary College in Shreveport, Louisiana (January 24 - March 9); the university art museum at Texas A&M in College Station 9March 24 - May 4); the Emerson gallery at Hamilton College in Clinton, New York (September 5 - October 19); the University of South Florida in Tampa (November 8 - December 23).

For 1998, the exhibition will appear at Mount Holyoke College, the University of Illinois and other sites. Museums in England have also shown an interest.

Besides the gift from the Puffin Foundation, funding for the exhibition comes from various sources: the Charles Keith and Clara Miller Foundation, Spain's Ministry of Culture, The Needmor Fund, the Blue Mountain Center as well as local foundations that support the independent museums.

When ALBA initiated this project in 1994, we had a good idea about the quality of the art and the political value of the posters' messages. When Cary and I traveled to Brandeis last March to make our final selections, we were confident that we knew what we were looking for. Brandeis archivist Charles Cutter opened the vaults for us on a Sunday morning and by that evening we had made our first picks.

But the next day something unexpected occurred. ALBA's founding archivist, Victor Berch, drew us aside to explain that he had recently received a gift of several posters, some of which were still in their original 1930s wrappings. Did we want to look at them too?

Soon, Victor was unraveling a thick packet of multifolded newsprint. After each unfolding, a wrapped poster doubled its size, growing before our eyes, to a foot, to two feet, to four, to eight!

Finally, we were looking at an immense orange and yellow portrait of a huge lifelike lion, something like the MGM mascot but with a slightly humanized face. The lion's front paw, slightly raised, stood upon a toppled faces, the ancient symbol of Rome's iron rule adapted by Mussolini. Above the lion's head was a simple word: ESPAÑA. Beneath the faces a smaller captioned read: "Cuyas seis letras sonoras restallen hoy en nuestra alma con grito de guerra y mañana con una exclamaciòn de jubilo de paz." ("Those six letters today resound in our soul as a war cry, and for tomorrow as an exclamation of joy and peace.") A small autograph displays the artist's name as Jose Bardasano.

We gazed silently at the poster for five minutes, ten minutes -- totally amazed by the beauty and power of the image. Yes, we decided. the lion was the symbol of Madrid, of Spain, of the incredible effort to save the Republic from fascist aggression. Yes, we would give the lion the place of honor in the exhibit. It would be the first image people would see, and it would be the last, too.

For the next two days, while we completed our work at Brandeis, we kept the lion unfolded on a big library table. And whenever we passed by, we shared a smile at our good fortune in finding that poster, in being the first to see what will soon become available to all the exhibition's visitors. We offer it to them with a defiant roar: "SHOUTS FROM THE WALL," a mighty symbol of a heroic people's crusade.

[For a complete listing of Shouts From the Wall venues, please go to our poster exhibit schedule]

Reprinted with permission