Art as a Cry of Solidarity: Latin America and Palestine on Canvas

The history of Latin America is marked by the struggle against colonization, oppression, and state violence. This shared memory has forged a profound sense of internationalist solidarity among its artists, who throughout the 20th and 21st centuries have raised their voices through their work to denounce injustices around the world. In the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, this tradition of committed art has found a new and urgent focus, using canvas, murals, and performance as platforms of support for the Palestinian people.

The artistic language of this solidarity is diverse but powerful. Many artists turn to a stark and symbolic realism to visualize pain and resistance. They depict children under the rubble, mothers with a blank stare, or the iconic keys that symbolize the refugees' right of return. The colors of the Palestinian flag—black, white, green, and red—are often integrated into the compositions, serving as an immediately recognizable political statement.

The figure of the great Colombian master Fernando Botero is central in this regard. Although his most famous series on violence addresses the Abu Ghraib massacres in Iraq, it set a monumental precedent for how figurative art can critique the impunity of power and humanize the victims of war. His style, which transforms bodies into monumental volumes, manages to convey an equally monumental sense of weight and pain. This path is followed today by contemporary illustrators, graffiti artists, and painters who, inspired by this tradition, fill social media and the streets with works that seek to break media indifference.

Beyond painting, muralism, a direct heir to Siqueiros, Rivera, and Orozco, has been a fundamental vehicle. Urban art collectives in Mexico, Chile, Argentina, and Colombia have transformed public walls into monuments to Palestinian resistance. These murals, accessible to all, do not ask permission to exist and turn the city into a gallery of denunciation, ensuring that the conflict is neither forgotten nor normalized.

Latin American artistic solidarity with Palestine is not only thematic, but also structural. It is born from a deeply felt identification: that of the peoples who have suffered state violence, territorial dispossession, and the violation of their human rights. Art thus becomes a transnational bridge of empathy, a cry that says: "Your pain is our pain, your resistance is our resistance." In a world where information is manipulated and forgotten, art endures as an indelible testimony to the struggle for justice and human dignity.
Latamarte