Chavis Marmol

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You gained a lot of visibility in early 2024 for crushing a Tesla car with a nine-ton replica of an Olmec head. Can you talk about the symbolism behind this destructive work of art/performance art? What did the Tesla represent to you?

The message is highly illustrative: a head, a replica of a pre-Hispanic piece belonging to the oldest known culture in the Americas, combined with the physiological features of the represented face, somewhere between Indigenous and African… all that historical weight crashing down on one of the most emblematic products of post-industrial capitalism.

Not just any car—a Tesla Model 3—a product of the company owned by the world’s richest man. A man who has become the aide-de-camp of the president of the most powerful country on the planet, and who, together with him, seems to manipulate the geopolitical agenda at will.

I like to think that one of the possible readings of this work lies in the act of creation itself, in the sheer fact that a lower-middle-class Mexican crushed a car with an Olmec head as part of an artistic action. For someone from my socioeconomic background, that is both brutal and powerful. That is the message I seek to convey: we do not fear the oligarchs who seek to plunder our land, who impose their rules through tariff blackmail, who attempt to dismantle our economies with trade wars to keep us subdued. But they forget that we are a proud people, with strong roots, whose history has been carved in stone.

Since this work was created, Elon Musk, who was enjoying a certain level of popularity, destroyed his reputation after making very public displays of his admiration for fascist oligarchies, and demonstrating his glee in ruthlessly gutting US government systems. Has the shifting popular opinion of Elon Musk and Tesla had an effect on how your work is viewed?

Absolutely. Since the new Trump administration took office, I have noticed a surge of interest in the sculpture. The piece has managed to capture the spirit of the moment. Without a doubt, many people out there are angry and concerned about the direction the world is taking. In my view, we are at a pivotal moment where decisions made in the Global North will drastically impact the economies of the Global South. Many of these decisions aim to subjugate our countries’ economies for their own benefit, and unfortunately, we will witness how these ultra-capitalist protectionist measures, orchestrated by the richest and most powerful men on the planet, will affect the lives of millions of people worldwide. Undoubtedly, the discontent generated will be reflected in all kinds of artistic manifestations and expressions. The popularity of my sculpture is only just beginning.

The use of the Olmec head in your performance evokes strong historical and cultural connections to Mexico’s ancient civilizations. How do you see the relationship between contemporary consumerism, represented by Tesla, and the deep cultural heritage symbolized by the Olmec head?

For me, it is essential at all times to explain who I am and where I come from. I belong to a socially and economically confused and extremely consumerist class. And yes, I own a MacBook and an iPhone 15, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be critical of the economic system we are part of. To begin with, there is no real way to escape this system unless one lives in a country with entirely different characteristics.

What I am trying to argue is that, at some point, the way we consume all kinds of products is not so different from how we understand and consume pre-Hispanic art. In other words, because our relationship with the world is mediated by capitalism, our understanding and consumption of our own culture are also shaped by it. That is why I am cautious not to fall into a simplistic nationalism that merely waves a flag. I find that to be a dangerous and mediocre stance for something as powerful as art—art that, after all, is produced within a capitalist model.

I apologize if I am being repetitive, but I find it crucial to emphasize this, as my way of thinking is rooted in understanding the place I occupy within the capitalist system. In short, what I am trying to argue is that the problem is not cars or T-shirts with pre-Hispanic images sold in Teotihuacán. The real problem is the conditions we have accepted and normalized, in which, through exploitation, a few accumulate wealth at the expense of most others, including those who labor on their behalf.

You’ve commented on how difficult it is for many Mexicans to afford a Tesla, making it a symbol of inaccessibility. How does your art critique the growing gap between elite consumerism and the everyday realities of people, particularly in Mexico?

Mexico adopted a neoliberal policy in 1994 with the signing of the Free Trade Agreement, marking the beginning of the dismantling of a large number of state-owned enterprises. These businesses ultimately became the foundations of the immense fortunes accumulated by the country’s elite. Entrepreneurs like Carlos Slim, who was granted the national telecommunications concession, greatly benefited from this process, making him one of the richest men in the world.

While it is true that this economic opening brought significant foreign investments and job opportunities, after 30 years of neoliberalism, the country has failed to lift a large portion of its population out of poverty. The rich keep getting richer, while the poor remain trapped in a reality with few opportunities for transformation.

Now, considering that I am far from belonging to the upper class, it is only natural that my work is affected by the economic conditions to which I belong. I strive to be highly aware of my material reality and to operate coherently from that position.

Therefore, the forms, materials, and themes I explore reflect, or are the direct result of, the place I occupy in the material world’s food chain. In other words, having a deeper awareness of how an economic system benefits some while punishing others makes it inevitable that my work carries a strong sense of class consciousness.

Do you feel that your work is political? If so, can you let us know in which ways?

I don’t believe it’s possible to exist outside the realm of politics. That being said, one can choose to engage with politics to a greater or lesser extent. In my case, I prefer to do so with caution. I try to maintain a critical distance, taking the time to analyze and reflect on certain topics in order to gather as much information as possible. And although it is often complicated, I strive to ensure that my political ideologies do not cloud my judgment, though that is not always the case.

Just to clarify, I don’t consider myself left-wing, much less right-wing, because I’m not entirely sure what those labels even mean today. On the contrary, I am skeptical of such concepts. I haven’t voted in recent elections, nor do I believe in the concept of democracy. However, I do try to be a responsible citizen: I pay my taxes, and while I’m sure I fall short in many ways, at the very least, when it comes to my work, I strive to be critical, even of the things I take for granted.

Who are you as a human being? Walk us through your day-to-day habits and interests.

I was born and raised in Apan, Hidalgo. My mother ran a funeral home, and as a teenager, my job was to clean and dress corpses. I also cleaned the funeral home and the service vans. At some point, I thought that would be my entire life, as my mother had no interest in me doing anything else.

When my mother passed away 20 years ago, my aunts encouraged me to study art at a school in Hidalgo. A few months later, I applied and began my art studies. It was in that place that my world changed. There, I had the opportunity to meet intelligent people with ambitions that extended beyond drinking and doing drugs. My introduction to art was the pivotal moment of my life; it was what allowed me to become a better person.

I currently live and work in Mexico City. My way of navigating and exploring the city has always been by bicycle; I have never driven a car nor swum in open water, both the result of childhood traumas. I developed a dark and somewhat distinctive sense of humor because of the environment I grew up in. I think that’s how I approach life, with humor, creativity, and joy, moving around on my bike and focusing on making ends meet each month.

If you could reflect on your youth and childhood, what moments have been deeply ingrained in you that have now become or affected a part of your artistic practice?

There is a saying I like that goes: ‘You can leave the town, but the town will never leave you.’ What is clear to me now is that material conditions govern our world as if they were an astrological chart. ### In other words, the place where you are born and the socioeconomic status you belong to will forever shape your destiny. In the roulette wheel of life, that can mean either fortune or pure hell on earth. However, not everything is predetermined; destiny can be challenged, and sometimes, the antidote lies within the poison itself. The same system that condemns you also holds the tools that can allow you to change your material reality.

In my case, I now understand better what those tools were. On one hand, access to public education. On the other hand, and this has been crucial in my development, the cultural products I have consumed and continue to consume—books, music, TV series, magazines, films. Cultural products shape people’s minds and lives. For me, they were what allowed me to discover that there were other ways to live and understand the world. Art has been one of those cultural products that transformed my destiny.