READER BEWARE: I actually determined to fix this page but ended up adding so much new material that I had to separate out everything about the Denver International Airport (DIA) and use it to create a new page. In the process, I actually made this page worse, all but destroying it. Now I simply must move on to other subjects. I will return to fix the damage I did here as soon as possible.
“I weld my brushes with a bias for the oppressed, for the working class, for peace and justice. An an Artist, this is my duty” —Leo Tanguma
“I’m not part of any conspiracy whatsoever. I mean, it’s weird to be saying that. In general, this is about humanity. What could they find bad about this?”
Leo Tanguma, the Artist
The artist maintains a short biography with pictures of the artist on his website Leo Tanguma Chicano Muralist. He also has a contact page that lists his email address, should you need to speak with him.
He was born and raised in a small town in Texas before establishing himself as a muralist in Dallas. After his warehouse studio was mysteriously burned down, he moved to Denver and began doing paintings here on churches and community recreation centers.
living in Arvada, Colorado, in
From the Westword aticle
Tanguma grew up in a small town in Texas, where Latinos were in the minority. He created his first mural when he was in the fifth grade and the local sheriff shot and killed three of his cousins in a questionable incident. He got up and went to the blackboard to draw what he liked to draw: horses, lions and tigers. “But this kid, somebody, said, ‘Draw me killing the sheriff.’ We were totally helpless in those days.” So he drew the kid stabbing the sheriff. And then the teacher walked in. He got a few licks for his depiction.
“But somebody asked me to do that art,” he remembers. “And in my life, I always felt that the community needed somebody to express its feelings.”
He only finished school through the sixth grade. Later, he joined the military. While overseas, he got his GED and took a cartooning correspondence course. Once out of the service, Tanguma went to Texas Southern University in 1972, where he’d paint community-center walls or street murals for small commissions. His murals can now be found on the walls of elementary schools, college campuses, housing projects, churches and art museums across the western U.S.
Tanguma moved to Colorado in 1983 because he thought there would be more opportunity here. The first piece he did in town was a mural in response to gang violence, paid for with small donations from churches and neighbors.
In 1993, Tanguma got a $100,000 commission for DIA. Initially, it was for one mural — but as he started painting, he decided to do more. “I wanted it to live up to how I felt about Denver, for the opportunity,” he says. He insists that he was given no guidelines for what to paint, and it took him three years to finish the work. “I tried to paint according to my conscience. Because I told the committee I tried not to paint just for decoration. It has to have a meaning.”
“Leo Tanguma Documentary Teaser Trailer” from the Sandina Martinez channel, published on May 17, 2013
Here is the description of the video on YouTube.
Teaser trailer for an upcoming documentary by Sandina Tanguma on her grandfather, the artist Leo Tanguma. The film will focus on Leo’s life and work, and include his murals “In Peace and Harmony with Nature” and “Children of the World Dream of Peace” at the Denver International Airport.
She apparently never finished the documentary, although she has posted biographical videos about herself as recently as May 27, 2016. This is an amazingly ignored channel. I subscribed. When I did, I was subscriber number 14.
Was Leo Tanguma told What to Paint?
When I first tried to contact the artist and talk to him about these murals, he told me that he was given guidelines on what to paint and put in the murals. When I showed up in his studio, I asked to see the guidelines for the last two murals he was working on, he suddenly went ‘brain dead’ and said ‘of course, there are no guidelines.’
“He insists that he was given no guidelines for what to paint”
—Jared Jacang Maher in his DIA Conspiracies Take Off article, August 30, 2007
Tanguma reportedly confirmed that he was given guidelines for the paintings and was paid 100 000$ for the first ones. He later denied he was given instructions and refuted any questions regarding hidden meanings in his paintings. Previous Leo Tanguma murals were typical Chicano art, politically charged and community oriented. However, his work at the DIA sends a totally different “vibe”, giving me the gut feeling that he simply drew someone else’s vision.
Jay Weidner from The Ciulling (an essay)
The artist Leo Tanguma has changed his story. His first story, in 1995, was that he was commissioned and told exactly what to paint, now, according to Westword in 2007, he says that he was the one who decided what to paint. Does it sound like normal operating procedure to just pay an artist to paint whatever he likes in a public airport, an airport that has a Masonic influence? Not likely. More likely is that they told him exactly what to paint.
One of the women asked Tanguma if the airport had told him what to paint. He remembers that, because he remembers how she said it. He told her no, that he was given no instructions on content.
“I know he was commissioned to do the murals, and I know he was told pretty much what to paint.” — Jay Weidner
When I ask [Lydia] Peña if the commission dictated what the artist’s produced she denies it, saying, “Artists need to be free to create not to be told exactly what to do.” [media-relations chief Heath] Montgomery concurs, “The city doesn’t dictate what a final piece looks like. They dictate what the type of the concept is. So, we selected a muralist and this is what he came up with.” —How the Denver Airport Became an Icon of the Illuminati by Colin St. John, Thrillist, October 31, 2017
Lastly, I quote from a fictional work that suggests “the Masons did it”:
“How on earth did the city of Denver approve of such horrific murals in their airport?” Aaron asked.
“They really didn’t have anything to say about it. Freedom of speech; freedom of expression in art; all the freedom arguments allowed the Masons to influence all the murals you see. Here is another one.” They moved on to the next one.
“Oh, Gordon. How horrible. I can’t believe my eyes; a dark green giant monster wearing what looks like a gas mask, destroying a city. And what are these? It looks like women carrying dead babies. What sick person drew all these?”
“It doesn’t matter who drew them, Aaron. This is the future.”
—Forever Conceal, Never Reveal, Dawn Meiera, 2009 [bold-red emphasis added]
What do I think? To some extent, I think it doesn’t really matter. The murals speak for themselves at this point. They are community property. This is actually a much broader question. There is more than one artist involved. And they were well paid, a fact methinks is relevant to this discussion.
My answer is, Yes, I think the artist at DIA were told to include certain elements in the works of art they produced. To understand what I feel that way, read NIINENII NIICIE and the following section entitled The Lesson of the Cheesman Dam.
The following video includes a very good (“best of breed”) analysis of The Shinning. It is set to begin at 3:46 into the video, which the start of a section the ends with Jack Nicholson’s rant about his contract. Pay special attention to the part about the contract.
“2001: A Space Odyssey – What Did Stanley Kubrick Know?” from the Shaking My Head Productions channel:
As discussed in NIINENII NIICIE (another artwork at DIA), I don’t think the DIA artists knew what they were doing like Stanley Kubrick did. He knew everything. The DIA artist were kept in the blind and told only to include certain elements in their work beyond which they had total artistic freedom. If Leo Tanguma was told what to admit and later retracted that statement, as Alex Christopher suggests, it was not for fear of being killed. It was simply a contractual obligation. This is why I say the fact that they were well paid is germane to the discussion. I suspect that when Leo tanguma first met Alex he told her the truth, but when she came back to write a book about the DIA, he acted as if he had never said it and for good reason. I am sure his contract included a financial forfeiture that extended to his heirs should he reveal the fact that he was told to include certain elements in his artwork. I would not hesitate to say the Leo Tanguma has enough time to couch their message inside of his own. In this respect he did have a lot in common with Stanley Kubrick.
Zing Magazine Interview with the Artist
Date: June 2012
Original Transcript: INTERVIEW: Leo Tanguma
Leo Tanguma, the Chicano muralist perhaps best known by Colorado travelers and the subcultural blogosphere of paranoid doomsday theorists for his dramatic murals at Denver International Airport, creates his complicated pieces through an organic, multi-step process that weaves Mexican heritage, world history, spirituality, progressive social ideals, and personal anecdotes. He made his first mural on a chalkboard in fifth grade, depicting children lynching the town’s corrupt sheriff, for which he was severely punished, and this experience stoked a rebellious verve in his artistic practice that would be played out during the coming decades. Much like Los Tres Grandes – Diego Rivera, José Clemente Orozco, and David Alfaro Siqueiros – from whom Tanguma draws his artistic heritage, he has a keen interest in politics and cultural theory, of which his views swing decidedly left. His sprawling, complicated, large-scale public artworks do contain a number of secrets: portraits of real people lost to street violence, unsung heroes from the margins of history books, and the reexamined Chicano myth of a weeping woman, for example. “Children of the World Dream of Peace” and “In Peace and Harmony with Nature,” the murals that Tanguma created for Level 5 of the Jeppesen Terminal at DIA, were almost never to be: Tanguma barely made the proposal submission deadline. As of this year, he has completed dozens of murals at various public venues across six states, painting themes of childhood courage and idealism, environmentalism, multiculturalism, and Tanguma’s uncanny signature of socially-conscientious spirituality. His most recent work in progress is inspired by the Occupy movement, the pencil drafting of which, sits on a modest, clean desk in his home studio.
Interview by Rachel Cole Dalamangas
Can you walk me through some of the imagery of your murals? Who are the people in the background?
Many of them are real people. This is an anonymous community and an anonymous community can be anybody. In this here, there are the symbols of oppression that our [Chicano] community has overcome. Are you familiar with that figure?
points to a stylized figure with three faces on drafting work for his mural, “The Torch of Quetzalcoatl,” commissioned by the Denver Art Museum
Well it means the fusion of the Spanish and the English when the Spanish came and brought women and began to rape and marry the indigenous women and introduced a new breed called, mestizo. And so that’s the essence of our identity.
And this figure, this is La Llorona, the weeping woman who destroyed her own children after having married a Spaniard, a conquistador. The Spaniard at one point decides to go back to Spain and to take the children with him. Well, that drives the woman mad because to them Spain was like Mars to us or someplace really distant and remote. The legend says that she drowned her children so that the husband wouldn’t take them to Spain, away from the New World. In my mural, I make La Llorona find her children because we get these stories from the Spanish historians and they had a very prejudicial view of the native peoples, that they were less than human, and we get a lot of our folklore from the Spanish males. In my mural she is shown reuniting with her children and it is a very happy occasion.
At the Denver Art Museum, a lot of kids come from the schools, the projects, from schools that have a lot of Mexican-American kids. When I tell the kids about her and say, “Do you know what La Llorona means?” they say, “Yes, we even know where she lives, there under the bridge.” She’s a really intense figure in our memory I guess. But then I tell them, “Don’t you see, somebody said that she killed her own children, but I don’t believe she did it.” Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t, but I don’t want to project that story anymore. So I tell the kids, “I have La Llorona find her children and she’ll stop crying and stop searching for them through eternity, which is what God condemned her to do.” Then I tell the kids, “They lived happily ever after.Don’t you want to live happy ever after.” And some of those kids had tears in their eyes.
Do your murals exist as wholes in your mind or do they develop as you start to draft them?
They develop. I search for ideas. I think it starts with something in my memory. For example, we were Baptists all my years growing up, even though the Baptists are really really conservative and there were ways that some of us weren’t in agreement with the general things. We’d hear from the pulpit, “Hispanic boys will not be found with those protesting,” you know, with those in the youth protest movements, and of course, some of us thought, that’s where we should be instead of sitting at the church.
points to pencil drafts for “Children of the World Dream of Peace.”
This is a lesson from the prophet Isaiah and Micah, that some day the nations of the world will stop war and so on and will beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning forks. That’s taken from how I was brought up. My parents were really religious when I was growing up, but innocent in their beliefs. I was the one who always questioned everything and I got worse as I got older. So you can see this comes from my religious ideas. As you can see, the people of the world are bringing their swords wrapped in their flags to be beaten into ploughshares.
Then here I have children sleeping amid the debris of war and this warmonger is killing the dove of peace, but the kids are dreaming of something better in the future and their little dream goes behind the general and continues behind this group of people, and the kids are dreaming that [peace] will happen someday. See how the little dream becomes something really beautiful, that someday the nations of the world will abandon war and come together.
What happened up on top here, when we were painting the mural at our studio at a shopping mall, some people who had their kids killed by gang violence came and said, “What are you going to paint up there?” I said, “Well, I have to look at the drawings.” They said, “Could you put my boy or my girl up there? She was killed.” And then they told us her name, Jennifer. This girl, Jennifer, was killed by a young man. She went to help her friend who was hiding with her baby from a man in a motel someplace, and they didn’t have anything to eat or diapers. So Jennifer took her some money and the boyfriend followed her. When Jennifer got to the motel room, the man followed her in and shot her right there dead and then dragged her friend and the child out. So her parents wanted her portrait put up there. They must have told other folks, because before I knew it other people came and said, “I know you, you painted [Jennifer] up there. Could you paint my son, Troy.” So now it’s got like ten kids here, all killed by gang violence in Denver. So the mural took on a new meaning that we hadn’t anticipated. Almost all these kids in here are real people. I put in my granddaughters and their little friends from elementary school. Like more than twenty-five kids from around the schools are in that mural.
The conspiracy theorists have interpreted it in the most naive way, I could say, like they think I advocate war and all these horrible stories.
Have the conspiracy theorists ever harassed you?
Just a couple of phone calls. They were not mean though. They’d say, “Are you the one who painted that?” And some came to my studio and wanted an explanation, which I gave it to them.
Even an explanation didn’t placate them?
Well, the airport never posted a complete explanation. They just put the title, the artist, the materials.
So how did you learn so much about history?
I just was interested in reading.
What happened I think was that something happened when I was growing up in Beeville, Texas, a little town fifty miles north of Corpus Christi. Like many little towns in Texas we had very racist sheriffs and police that liked to keep Mexicans in our place. In our town it was a sheriff named, Vail Eniss. One time the sheriff went to see about some minor thing between a Mexican husband and his wife about their children. The young man was not there, but the father was there. The sheriff arrived there with a semi-automatic rifle – now why if you’re only concerned about a minor incident? So he gets into an argument with the father and shoots him and as he shoots him, there’s other people that were in the yard that came around and he shoots them also. He killed three people in a few seconds. The man at the front was my mother’s uncle, Mr. Rodriguez. So in our family that was talked about. And in other families also. For example, my brother-in-law was put in jail and the sheriff personally beat him with a hose. I don’t know for how long, but severely. It was really really bad. He was just drunk, that’s why he was in jail. So we had a kind of a hate for the system because those things kept happening and the sheriff kept being exonerated over and over and over until he retired with honors.
So you see, we already had a disposition, some of us, that there was something wrong here.Why were treated like this.
When I was in the fifth grade, one day our teacher didn’t show up, so a lady from the office came and said we were going to have a substitute and later she would arrive and for us to stay at our seats and behave. And when the lady left everyone began to play and talk and stuff.Some kids went up to the blackboard. I was more reserved than most folks. We were a little odd. Some of us were Baptists in a community that was almost totally Catholic. So we were a little more reserved. I was sitting down for a long time and some kids were drawing already and after a little while I said, “Okay I’ll go draw too.” So I went up to the blackboard. I didn’t know what I was going to draw, but before I could draw, somebody said, “Pollo, draw me killing the sheriff.” Also all the kids began to say, “Draw me too! Draw me too!” So I started to draw the sheriff hanging or being stabbed. Then the substitute walked in. She was outraged at what she saw. Of course, when I saw her, I ran and sat down, but she had seen me already.She looked at the drawings and she said, “You, come here and erase this garbage.” I began to erase it and she got a ruler and began to hit me across the back. She was in a rage. And I began to cry. I guess I couldn’t see too well because I thought I was done erasing so I ran back to my seat and she said, “Come back here, you’re not done yet.” Because I hadn’t finished it completely. So I erased it completely. She hit me a few more times on the back. I don’t remember too much about what happened after that. Whether I went to sit back down or just stood there. For a while I stood there.
Many people have asked me when was your first mural, thinking I’m gonna say something like when I was in the boy scouts or something like that.
That I think started something in me.
Tell me about some of your artistic influences.
I met the professor in the art department, Dr. John Biggers, at the Southern University in Houston, Texas. He was a radical and he admired the Mexican muralists and he taught about them in a class I was in with him. Then I told him about the murals I was painting. And we became friends. So I was so influenced by Dr. Biggers. And he said go see the muralists in Mexico City.
What happened in my case was there were people, Los Mascarones, – masks – and they did a performance and so after the performance a lot of those kids [in Los Mascarones] stayed in my home. I had an enormous living room. After the performance they were at my house and the kids were sleeping already and I was having coffee with the director of the group and I asked the man, “Do you know anybody who could get me introduced to Siqueiros.” I was asking this guy – Mario was his name – and he said, “That’s his grandson sleeping right there.” I wanted to go wake that kid up. In the morning, I said, “Could you introduce me to your grandpa?” And he said, “Sure, just come on over.” So that’s how I met Siqueiros.
It was real funny. Siqueiros talked about some of the other guys, like, “Those guys can’t paint,” talking about Rivera. It was funny because Rivera is a Great. A great, great master. And then Siqueiros said, “Tamayo was okay, but one time we had a fight at the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City.” Siqueiros said that one time he and Tamayo got in a fight at the top of the stairs and rolled down the stairs.
Do you know much about the great muralists from Mexico?
A little bit . . .
Well Siqueiros was the most outspoken of them. Before the revolution began, like 1911, he was a student at the Academy of San Carlos in Mexico City. He and the other guys, he must have been 14, 15, and they were meeting already about political issues that were being discussed in Mexico before the revolution. And Siqueiros talked about this when I interviewed him. It was another awakening for me. Siqueros was so dynamic and a little reckless also. Do you remember Trotsky? Trotsky separated himself from Stalin and the rest, and Trotsky was a little more progressive I think. But Stalinists thought that he was dividing the worldwide communist movement and so they wanted him killed. Siquerios was a Stalinist in those days when he was young. When he was older he didn’t want to talk about it. He’d say, “We were young then.” He tried to assassinate Trotsky himself before Trotsky was finally assassinated.And that’s the way he was, kind of crazy and reckless and so on.
But to meet him when he was, I think, 72, it was quite an experience for a young person like myself. So I came back thinking, “Wow, I met a master, a real master.” Because there were many of us painting murals, but we didn’t know what we were saying or what we believed in or what our purpose was in painting the murals. I came back with a little more beliefs.
How many murals have you painted in Colorado?
I don’t know. But I’ve got some in schools, the high schools.
And some in prisons, too, right?
Did I do one in a prison? Yes, that’s right. In Greeley, there’s a youth facility. We did two murals there. When we were working in the prison the kids there were 10 years to 20 years of age. They didn’t call them inmates, they called them students. They were there for different offenses. 37 kids volunteered to paint murals with [my assistants and I]. We told them the way we were going to do the murals was each of them was going to sit down and draw from their own experience how they got in trouble, how they got their lives messed up at this early stage, and they were going to draw that and then they were going to draw another drawing about how they were going to improve their lives. So many kids didn’t like the idea so they quit coming in. We only had 15 kids. But some of them couldn’t see a way out. This one girl, her name was Alicia, she drew some big bottles like alcohol drinks and there was a little girl at the bottom lost in alcohol. And I said, “Okay, now what’s the other one, how are you going to get yourself out of this?” And she wouldn’t do it.
Everybody painted a portion of the mural, about two and a half feet wide by twenty inches high, and they would paint how they had gotten in trouble, the life they had, and how they were freeing themselves from that. And Alicia left hers just like that. She said, “Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic.” So I could never make her go beyond that. Another kid named John, he drew himself in a big rat trap, and I said, “Well, what are you going to do when you’re on the other side?” And he said, “Once you get in drugs and messed up, that’s the way you’ll be forever.” And I said, “No.” And we were kind of preachy the three of us, my two assistants and I, we were trying to tell the kids there’s something better out there, like, “Paint yourself some other way.” And John did change his drawing. He’s got the kid trapped and then in the other one there’s a trap with the wire back and the kid’s standing next to it, because he’s gotten himself out of that situation. And that’s how it’s painted on the mural today. It was therapeutic, what I was doing with the kids.
I’ve told my students, “We have to have a higher purpose with our art here, not just to sell it so people can take it and just decorate their homes, but do something more positive.”
Can you expand on that? What is art’s role in cultural and political conversations?
Well, the Mexican muralists after the Mexican revolution proceeded to paint the people because many of them had been with the revolution and had seen the struggle of the people and they saw firsthand how art could return to the people a sense of their own dignity.
Just to give you an example of how the elites in Mexico saw their own people, Mexico celebrated its 100th anniversary in 1910 and to celebrate the 100th year they invited an enormous exhibit of art from Europe, from Spain especially. Now how did those guys see the Mexican people, the Mexican artists especially. Why couldn’t they have an exhibit of Mexican artists celebrating Mexican independence. So that could give you an idea of how the rulers saw their own people.
My activism was in painting murals and working with kids and so on, but in my case, I already had the experience of being back in Beeville with the sheriff, and drawing him on the blackboard. The young people see themselves in the murals.
And in my background I had never gotten away from my beliefs. Because my parents were so beautiful. Memories that you could never forget. Like before going to bed, my little brother and myself and my older sister, and everybody’s going to bed, my mother takes a little time to sit in her rocking chair to sing or just hum hymns, and I grew up seeing that. Or hearing my mother or my father at the dinner table saying, “Remember the poor.” A list of things that they repeated almost in every prayer. So that was the kind of innocent background that I had in my case.
Some other artists did it because the Mexican painters were revolutionary in the Marxist way.Being not very easy with words, I tried to read Marx, but it was just too complex and boring.On the other hand, the Bible was easy for me and to see it in my family and going to visit my brother in prison and seeing all those things, they were impacting me.
So as I began to read history, Mexican history and then the history of us here in the U.S., and I saw how I could contribute.
For example I painted a mural about black and white. It was four or five feet off the ground, 18 feet higher up, and I painted many bodies, brown bodies, because we had been made to feel inferior to the whites. I remember seeing also in the 7th grade for the first time the black kids, the Mexican kids, and the white kids were all together, and I remember the black kids, when they went to speak to the teacher, and the teacher spoke to them, they lowered their heads.We were pretty bad, us, the Mexican kids. But we didn’t do that I don’t believe. We didn’t look the teachers in the eyes very much, but we didn’t lower our heads I don’t think. And I thought that was out of some humiliation and as I studied more about blacks and other oppressed peoples, I could see that what I had was an instrument in my hands that I could use to return to the people a sense of their history and their beauty and their human dignity. And people responded to that. They like those kinds of explanations.
Tell me about what you’re working on now.
I’m thinking about this mural for the Occupy movement. I don’t have funding yet. I think it’s very important and very interesting, what the young people are trying to do with that.
The murals at Denver International Airport (DIA) have raised many an eyebrow. Why? Why are these murals in a major international airport so strange? You will find no more radical interpretation of the DIA murals than on this page.
The DIA Murals
There are only two Leo Tanguma murals at Denver International Airport. They were painted from 1993 to 1995. He was assisted by his daughter Leticia Tanguma and a friend Cheryl Detweiler. Contrary to what is often said on the Internet, neither mural has ever been painted over. Nor have they ever been removed. Both murals are in the “Great Hall” or main terminal. The names of the murals are “The Children of the World Dream of Peace” and “In Peace and Harmony with Nature.” Each mural consists of two panels (sometimes referred to as a diptych), one small (12′ x 15′) and one large (12′ x 28′). On this page, I discuss only the smaller panel of the “In Peace and Harmony with Nature” mural. The artist knows his murals are shocking. He’s not an idiot. But the name of this particular mural, located in the main Jeppesen Terminal (which is notably on Level 5) is dripping with sarcasm.
found near the baggage claim area
One mural features three women in coffins surrounded by endangered animals, including a Quetzal bird, named after the Mayan god Quetzalcoatl, in a glass cage — an “extinction message,” Weidner says.
Not Removed, Not Painted Over
UPDATE: For the first time ever, I believe both of Leo Tanguma’s murals may have been temporarily removed (I am not sure) for the Great Hall renovation project, which is “three and one-half year renovation project.” The Great Hall Project page states that “some of the artwork in the terminal has been temporarily placed in storage until construction is complete. The airport’s unique and conversational art will return upon completion of the project.” At other times the airport has repeatedly affirmed that Leo Tanguma’s murals are part of the airport’s permanent collection.
One thing I have also found extremely odd is the number of people on the Internet who claim the murals have either been removed or painted over. This simply is not true.
From Westword article
[Colleen Fanning, DIA art program manager] has gotten calls about Tanguma’s art, including one last year from a person who accused the airport of changing portions of his murals to cover up secret meanings. “They basically scream at me and ask me why we have taken those murals down, but they’ve never been changed or been taken down,” she says. “Those murals will be there for a while. They’re not coming down.”
I was really concerned when I first flew to DIA that the murals would not be there. They were. They’ve always been there. They were never taken down. They have never been altered in any way whatsoever.
“In Peace and Harmony with Nature”
The Burning of the Maya Codices
I was no little annoyed by Jay Weidner when, looking at the “In Peace and Harmony with Nature” mural with Jesse Ventura, he characterizes the burning forest as “the mother of all solar flares” and as an “end of the world motif.” This struck home because I knew the moment I saw this mural exactly what this is. What do you see when you look at this part of the mural?
If you doubt my interpretation of the burning forest, look closely at how the artist has for some unknown reason disassembled the plexiglass cage of the Quetzalcoatl bird and used one of the panes to suggest the front cover of a book. There can be no mistaking what you are looking at.
Those are Maya books burning, and this is an obvious reference to what has since been called “The Mayan Apocalypse” when the Catholic Bishop Diego de Landa mindlessly destroyed thousands of manuscripts in front of the church in the town of Maní, on the Yucatan peninsula, on the evening of July 12th, 1562, one of the greatest intellectual loses in the entire history of mankind.
Wikipedia’s Diego de Landa pages says, “Historians describe him as a cruel and fanatical priest who led a violent campaign against idolatry. In particular, he burned almost all the Mayan manuscripts (codex) that would have been very useful in deciphering Mayan script, knowledge of Maya religion and civilization, and the history of the American continent.” [bold-red emphasis added]. Most importantly, the codices would have divulged the presence of the Pythagoreans in Central America thousands of years before Columbus sailed. This and the fact that they would have allowed us to fully understand the design of the Mesoamerican (misnamed “Mayan”) Long Count calendar is why they had to be destroyed.
Diego wasn’t on a crusade against idolatry. He was under orders to erase any trace of the Pythagoreans in the Americas.
Here is another mural containing the same subject matter. It is from the National Autonomous University of Mexico, a public university in Mexico City, Mexico.
Tanguma isn’t painting an apocalyptic, world-ending solar flare. He is carrying on a tradition of Mexican muralists.
Only a few minutes of Conspiracy Theory with Jesse Ventura, Season 1, Episode 7 is dedicated to the Denver International Airport. All of it is contained in the following YouTube. So there is no need for you to pay $2.50 to buy this episode like I did.
“Denver International Airport Murals” on the bin1bash channel:
The Deformed Hands
- Show deformed hands (they are meant to catch your attention)
- Show the 666 in the open palms
- Show the ONLy open palm hand in the other panel of the same mural. It is in front of a Gemanic boy. Then show the OVERSIZED HAND of the German boy in the center of this panel.
- The message is that “There are Germans here and something evil is happening.”
his is somewhat unfortunate because I should think it difficult to digest all at once. No, I am not talking about the 666 I propose Leo Tanguma represents in the palms of three outstretched hands. I expect you to see that much. What would be difficult to impossible to digest so rapidly is the meaning of the hand is this photograph:
Description of the larger of the two muraals:
From the Westword article
“The first part of the environmental mural is about the ways that humans destroy nature and themselves through destruction and genocide. The second part is about humanity coming together to rehabilitate nature and revive their own compassion.”
a = 12
b = 7.41641
a + b = 19.4164
23 – 15 = 8
The bottom of the mural is lined with open coffins. There are a number of different endangered or extinct species of animals. Some of these specimens are encased in plexiglass with readable labels. At the center of the mural is a young woman weeping over a dead leopard (or cheetah).
Death is everywhere is this mural. In the background, what appears at first glance to be a forest is on fire.
The is no peace and harmony with nature in this mural. Why is the artist trying to say?
The artist is inviting you to look closer, to think, “Why did he name this “In Peace and Harmony with Nature“? This mural, more so than any other at the Denver International Airport, is imbued with meaning. It reads like a book.
As I said, I expect you to see the six. There are three such hands in this m
It is unfortunate that this page is a portal for many first time visitors.
The artist, Leo Tanguma, apparently found himself in essentially the same situation as Stanley Kubrick while the latter was faking the moon landings. His employers necessarily told him everything. In other words, Leo Tanguma knows what is about to happen. He doubtless also knows Kubrick was eventually murdered because of his cinematic work. Expect some measure of subtlety here.
The only calm is the little German boy off to the right who is hugging a squirrel surrounded by lush green ferns. Tucked quietly behind all of this is a young Mayan (Leo Tanguma is Mayan) girl holding a stone the face of which has been carved.
What you see in the background are the Mayan books burning, not trees.
The smoke above the modern city is a reference to The Three Days of Darkness that Catholics believe will follow the event.
Germans, Germans, Germans
Germans, Germans, Germans. There are Germans everywhere. Why? What does it mean? It means
“Germans, Germans, Germans. There are Germans everywhere.” This is Leo Tanguma speaking directly to you, the observer. And what he is telling you is a simple truth about DIA. There are Germans everywhere. And they are at the center of everything. On the left panel, they are at the center of intellectual attention. In the right panel, they are quite literally in the center of the panel.
He’s not talking about the past. He’s talking about the present. He’s talking about DIA. I wasn’t on the ground for more than an hour when I encountered a large group of them. And i should know. I lived in Germany, and I look more German than most of them do.
DA: It is interesting when you consider Operation Paperclip wherein all these Nazi’s were brought to the United States to be groomed, financed, and basically brought back into power.
AC: Well, I know they’re here, because I have seen them alongside the Americans in the more sensitive areas of the airport.
The undercover security forces at DIA are basically gangs of young German men. My best guess would be that they are second generation Operation Paperclip.
The little blonde-haired boy off to the side represents the Beast. He is a psychopathic German, petting a squirrel while standing in front of a Bison trophy. The message is clear.
He is not whole as the secret societies claim, but has killed off his feminine side or self. Here is the reality of unleashing this monster on the world:
These are Bison bones. But let’s looker deeper at the symbolism.
The Deformed Hands
Now let us look a little deeper. Notice all the deformed hands:
The artist is drawing you attention to something, but what? The obvious answer is the 666 incorporated into the mural. Go back up to the top of the page and see if you can find it for yourself. There are three fully stretched out, opened-palm hands in the mural. They beg your attention in that regard. Look closely at the white highlighting. One of the palms are reversed. Don’t expect this stuff to fall in your lap. Tanguma has the same problem as Kubrick of staying true to himself as an artist while staying alive at the same time. The six is the most obvious in the the most important hand, which it to the far right. Here is a different magnification of that hand:
Notice that sharp contrast the artist is using to make this particular hand stand out from the rest. I will continue this discussion of the hands in the next section.
They image includes a “QUETZAL” bird marked “Extinct ?” as shown in this closeup:
The long tail feather makes it obvious that this is actually a resplendent quetzal, which Wikipedia discusses as follows:
Myth and legend
The resplendent quetzal was considered divine, associated with the “snake god”, Quetzalcoatl by Pre-Columbian Mesoamerican civilizations. Its iridescent green tail feathers, symbols for spring plant growth, were venerated by the ancient Aztecs and Maya, who viewed the quetzal as the “god of the air” and as a symbol of goodness and light. The Maya also viewed the quetzal symbolizing freedom and wealth, due to their view of quetzals dying in captivity and the value of their feathers, respectively. Mesoamerican rulers and some nobility of other ranks wore headdresses made from quetzal feathers, symbolically connecting them to Quetzalcoatl… In several Mesoamerican languages, the term for quetzal can also mean precious, sacred, or erected…One Mayan legend claims that the quetzal used to sing beautifully before the Spanish conquest, but has been silent ever since; it will sing once again only when the land is truly free.
Leo Tanguma is Mayan. His question mark after the word “Extinct” is obviously him praying for his people. But something much more profound is happening here.
The Encoded Message
Two of the resplendent quetzal tail feathers cross forming a plus sign. One points to the Sun and the other to the outstretched hand symbolizing the number five. The Sun to which the one tail feather points is carved into stone, representing the knowledge the Spanish and Catholic church did not (or rather could not) fully destroy. (The Spanish did not discover the “New World.” They were sent there along with the Catholic church for the express purpose of destroying its history, with the express purpose of covering the tracks of the Beast in Central and South America. This is an entirely different subject which I must address in its fullness elsewhere on this website.)
The message here is the most sacred Leo Tanguma has to offer. It is the same as the shamans message of “y un poco,” only it is very specific. The message is to add five to the Mesoamerican Long Count calendar. It is reinforced by the end date of December 16, 2013, which is five days before the winter solstice. The message is to add five years to the end of the calendar. This is what I call the Great Wayeb, which is discussed elsewhere on this website. The calendar itself includes what I call an “anti-cipher” to this end, assuring those who pursue this knowledge that they are interpreting it correctly.
The next panel shows children of the world gathered around a “gigantic psychedelic plant of some kind. And they’re all extolling that all the races are going to live together in a world of peace.”
The Second Mural is a Ship about to be Inundated
guote bible about whne they say peace death will come (Revelation?)
From the Westword article
The soldier in the mural could be any soldier. “That’s why I put a mask on him,” Tanguma explains. “I didn’t want to make him white or black. I wanted to make him villainous to give that aspect of something vile, something real, something mean.”