“I have no complaints, and I like everything, despite the fact that I have never been here and know nothing about these places,” says the inscription written in Cyrillic on a radiant red banner held by a group of Kellogg’s mascots: Cornelius Rooster, Melvin the Elephant, Toucan Sam, and Tony the Tiger. The animals smile and gesticulate enthusiastically, as if participating in some sort of existential rally. The landscape behind them is gray, with cryptic lines and circles. What is this place, and what are these famous mascots promoting now?
In the painting “Extinction”, Spanish artist Carleti Lopez Traviesa portrays animals that have vanished from Kellogg’s cereal boxes across several Latin American countries due to health campaigns aimed at reducing childhood obesity. The banner alludes to “Slogan, 1977”, an art intervention performed by a group of Soviet conceptualists in the 1970s. The artists hung an identical red banner in a desolate winter forest, conducting field research on the possibilities of context. In contrast to the snowy backdrop in the original photograph documenting the performance, the misty background of the painting creates a sense of limbo where the abandoned mascots seem consigned to oblivion. Removed from the marketing context, the ideological role of the commercial avatars shifts, transforming them into icons of the realm of existential capitalism. As the artist explains, ‘I even planned a show titled “Extinction” centered on the disappearance of fantastical animal breeds. Much like the Iberian lynx or grouse, which are endangered, mascots disappear in a similar manner as a result of political decisions.’
In his artworks Lopez Traviesa builds intricate fictional narratives, exposing modern controversies through the lens of the comical and the absurd. He dubs it “LOL discourse”: when the political becomes funny, it can be perceived and digested differently. Humor permeates the artist’s works on multiple levels, enabling diverse readings. While some jokes offer internationally recognizable art references, others resonate primarily within specific geographic or cultural contexts.
Having experimented with photography, performance, conceptual art, and land art, Lopez Traviesa turned to figurative painting as a tool that allows him to explore the plasticity of visual storytelling at a wider scale. His unrefined aesthetics —manifested in the rawness of his erratic brushwork, his straightforward compositions with textured surfaces, and his choice of characters — underscore an uninhibited and unmediated creativity rooted in the rejection of conventional artistic norms.
The deft manipulation of meta-narratives proves a common thread between Lopez Traviesa’s paintings and the work of conceptual artists, who engage in a dialogue with viewers through an elaborate system of references. The scene from “One and Three Bananas, No Chairs Left” portrays a banana from the 90’s TV show “Bananas in Pyjamas” holding the Velvet Underground’s album featuring the iconic Andy Warhol banana on the cover while standing in front of a banana affixed to a wall with duct tape.
The three-fold banana composition alludes to Joseph Kosuth’s conceptual piece ‘One and Three Chairs,’ in which the artist draws attention to a triple code of approaching reality: through the object (the chair), its representation or index (the photograph of the same chair), and two linguistic elements (the word that designates the object and its definition). In “One and Three Bananas, No Chairs Left”, Lopez Traviesa blends representations of bananas from different eras and cultural contexts to explore the concept of multiple meanings and interpretations in art, playfully addressing the ever-relevant question of the mechanisms of the art market. The face of the banana in pyjamas expresses astonishment as it turns from the banana taped to the wall — a clear reference to the scandalous artwork “Comedian” by Italian artist Maurizio Cattelan, which sold for US$120,000 at Art Basel Miami Beach in 2019.
“Bob Duchamp”, another exemplary illustration of Lopez Traviesa’s witty exploration through loose associations, presents a twisted reproduction of a Man Ray photo depicting the father of the ready-made with a star shaved on the back of his head. In the painting, the star bears a resemblance to Patrick, the character from the Spongebob SquarePants cartoon, while Spongebob himself emerges from Duchamp’s pipe. Lopez Traviesa includes Marcel Duchamp among his four primary influences, alongside Joseph Beuys, Chris Burden, and Andy Warhol. Curiously, none of these artists are considered painters; however, Warhol’s aesthetic legacy is discernible in Lopez Traviesa’s visual language. The extensive incorporation of iconic imagery from cartoons, films, advertising, and memes renders his artistic vocabulary accessible to diverse audiences who may not necessarily seek out art, but rather LOLs. Indulgently colorful, with inherently humorous plotlines, and readily identifiable characters, Lopez Traviesa’s paintings often go viral, transforming from artworks into frequently downloaded images.
The 2014 painting “Meatbart” features an adult Bart Simpson standing before a mirror. The grown-up rendition of the character has lost his characteristic yellow skin tone, adopting a human, flesh-like color and a marked resemblance to his father, Homer. In the reflection, however, he remains the teenager we remember from the cartoon. Representing the dichotomy between truth and illusion, real and false identity, the visible and the invisible, the mirror motif unveils the conflict of how we perceive ourselves and how others perceive us.
In the painting, the metaphysical concept of the “Other” is gestured towards by Homer’s face emerging out of the pattern of the rug —a metaphor for the weight of familial influence, which provokes the tragically inevitable transformation of a son into his father. Bart, having rejected the opportunity to age within the show, experiences an existential moment within the painting.Expanding the plot of TheSimpsons beyond its narrative frame, Lopez Traviesa plays with the limitless possibilities of character development through ludic meta-constructions.
In the painting “Paleta Payaso Reflejada” [Mirrored Clown Lollipop], created five years after “Carnebart,” he employs a similar technique, invoking a sense of cryptic duality. An international audience unfamiliar with late capitalist Mexican consumer folklore is unlikely to grasp the multiple levels of humor. A “Paleta Payaso” is a round chocolate-coated marshmallow on a stick. Gummies for the eyes and mouth give it a crude resemblance to a clown’s face. The image on the wrapper has little in common with the face within, depicting a Caucasian red-head clown with a white-painted smile. In the painting, Lopez Traviesa draws attention to this comical contrast between representation and reality by placing a Paleta Payaso in front of the mirror. With a cigarette in its mouth and a bottle of “Carta Blanca” in hand, the candy gazes at its reflection in silent astonishment, discovering its whitewashed doppelganger holding a flower instead of the beer.
References to Mexican modern mythology are not uncommon in works by Lopez Traviesa. Having lived in Mexico for more than seven years, he has drawn extensive inspiration from the rich visual tapestry of Mexico City’s streets. As the artist comments: “I’m from a small town. Although I lived in Madrid, it didn’t surprise me as much as Mexico City, where the most unexpected things occur on a daily basis on the streets and you live it through, being integrated into the physical matter of absurdity and also being affected by it.”
The environment of Mexico City resembles the imaginative landscapes from the “Where’s Wally?” books, drenched in simultaneous pictorial narratives. The artist captures the essence of contemporary magical realism, delving into the symbols of Mexican commercial iconography that have evolved into significant markers of popular culture. The omnipresent OXXO corner stores with their red and yellow signs are a common sight in Lopez Traviesa’s canvases. A crying chihuahua dog followed by an enigmatic hand finds itself ensnared within a metaphysical labyrinth of corner shops in the 2017 painting “Chihuahua Dog Cornered in the Meta-OXXO World”. This piece explores an absurd realm of endlessly multiplying stores that no longer offer products but rather serve as simulacra of their own existence. Corner stores emerge on the corners of other corner stores, propagating like a relentless parasite that feeds upon the city, slowly taking over the entire urban scenery.
Another iconic commercial symbol frequently encountered on the streets of Mexico City and within Lopez Traviesa’s artworks is Dr. Simi, a pharmacy mascot in the form of a plump elderly doctor with a thick white mustache. The Farmacias Similares pharmacy chain successfully employs the cheerful image of Dr. Simi to promote generic drugs and offer affordable medical services. The endearing sight of Dr. Simi, often clumsily dancing to vibrant cumbias playing from drugstore speakers, has become an integral element of Mexico City’s street culture. The artist appropriates this beloved character, integrating him into action scenes far beyond his pharmaceutical purview. In the painting “Similar Drug”, Dr. Simi is portrayed injecting himself with a syringe branded with his own face. Meanwhile, “The Last Beer in the OXXO”, created in the midst of the pandemic, captures five Dr. Simi mascots and a green M&M standing in line at the corner shop for a beer, all sporting facemasks.
“Simi Rebolution” ingeniously intertwines Mexican religious imagery with emblematic symbols of the country’s consumerist culture. The painting has the air of a pastiche of iconic 19th century European masterpieces commemorating historical upheavals. Much like Eugène Delacroix’s famous ‘Liberty Leading the People,’ where battle-scarred urban surroundings are executed in muted tones, the backdrop behind the battalion of armed Dr. Simi figures portrays a city engulfed in revolutionary fire using misty shades. A blazing OXXO store; the silhouette of the Torre Latinoamericana consumed by flames; and the Virgin of Guadalupe, haloed by an avocado shell, ascending above the inferno-stricken panorama. An image of a naked Dr. Simi appears at her feet, replacing Juan Diego, the Aztec man who according to legend witnessed apparitions of the virgin and who has been traditionally depicted in a subservient position to highlight the divine encounter he experienced. The other half of the avocado rests on the ground, with Dr. Simi’s face emerging from the seed—a premonition of the successful outcome of the rebellion assured by the virgin’s blessings.
Dr. Simi and the Virgin of Guadalupe might be equally well known in Mexico due to their pervasive visual representation. Through effective marketing, Dr. Simi has transcended mere mascot status to become an idol, akin to a cultural phenomenon. The revolutionary army of Simis that aggressively seize control of the city can be interpreted as a critique of capitalist narratives. These mascots symbolize brands that voraciously consume the cultural essence of urban areas, transforming them into expansive battlegrounds for commercial supremacy.
For Carleti Lopez Traviesa, mascots function as a potent instrument for mythologizing reality. Simultaneously real and surreal, they embody the physical manifestation of an advertising-driven fantasy universe, disrupting the mundane with their awkward presence. Mascotization also serves to infantilize reality, imparting it with a gentler, more whimsical, and less monotonous quality—a dash of absurdity and unpredictability. By populating his paintings with mascots rather than people, Lopez Traviesa introduces humor, accentuating the impact of potent market symbols that have been fashioned into contemporary fetishes.
Perpetually shifting between different locations and dimensions, Lopez Traviesa guides viewers to find comfort within the realm of the absurd. His conceptual approach to creating paintings involves manipulating contexts, layering narratives, and establishing environments where weighty real world matters coexist — bewilderingly and comically — with fictional elements. Despite the fact that we know nothing about these places, we like everything and have no complaints.
Text by Karina Abdusalamova.