Diego Rivera

Hazel Rochman

"He appears both colossal and astonishing--and, at the same time, reachable and every day." Neimark connects those qualities to the work and life of a great Mexican painter whose murals were revolutionary in their politics and in their lyrical color, in their celebration of technology and of Mexico's Aztec heritage, and in their contrast between the people's joy and their struggle. An author's note makes it clear that this is a fictionalized biography with some invented scenes and dialogues, and even though Neimark remains true to her perception of the man, there's always a distracting sense as you read: Did he really say that? Did it happen that way? Since there's no documentation, except for a brief bibliography, there's no way of knowing what's made up. Still, Rivera himself always mingled facts with tall tales, and Neimark's story of Rivera's life in all its fierce contradictions--as revolutionary, womanizer, and artist--is enthralling. One dramatic episode focuses on the great censorship battle, when Rivera's mural for the Rockefeller Center was destroyed because he refused to remove the face of Lenin. The book's design is handsome, with a glowing cover painting, clear type, and many fine reproductions of Rivera's work. And it's Rivera the artist who's most eloquently evoked here, his inspiration, technique, development, and enduring influence. Neimark ends with a list of murals to see in the U.S.