From Mexico City to Southern California 

In the 20th century, modernist playgrounds not only promoted healthy lifestyles in parks and housing projects, but were admired for their aesthetic qualities.(1) Yet, because they were generally considered equipment rather than architecture or sculpture, authorship credits were often omitted in publications, official reports, and newspaper articles.(2) This was even more true when the designers were operating outside of established architectural or academic frameworks, as was the case of the Mexican-born sculptor and playground designer Benjamín Domínguez (1894-1974). Domínguez was commissioned by civic authorities to create playgrounds from Texas to Southern California, often featuring figurative play-sculptures in the form of marine creatures. Thanks to the efforts of local activists, some of these playgrounds have been carefully studied and restored.(3) This essay provides an overview of his work, with a focus on the least-known of his projects, the Aztec Playground in Lincoln Heights, Los Angeles (1974; destroyed in 2002), a forgotten example of the so-called Mayan Revival style as reimagined by a Mexican immigrant in the United States.(4)


Benjamín Domínguez was seldom credited publicly for his playground design, in this newspaper piece he poses next to the “Happy Dragon,” one of his handmade concrete play sculptures for Fantasy Park in Las Vegas, later reproduced it other projects. “Fantasy Park: Mexican Artist Designs A Land of Make Believe Here,” Las Vegas Review, undated clipping (c. 1959). Courtesy Friends of La Laguna.

Little is known about Domínguez’s early life or work; he was born in Guanajuato, Mexico, and studied sculpture at the Escuela Nacional de Bellas Artes in Mexico City from 1922 to 1925, though it is unclear if he enrolled as a full-time student or simply took classes.(5) One source mentions that he attended the Escuela Superior de Maestros Constructores (today the Instituto Politécnico Nacional).(6) The latter seems more likely, since in 1952 the Mexico City government hired Domínguez to design enclosures for larger animals at the Chapultepec Zoo a task more frequently given to constructors rather than artists. These environments revealed his skill in exploiting concrete and pigmented cement, following the faux bois tradition of creating complex structures that resemble wood, with detailed textures created with acids and special tools like wire brushes applied to the material while fresh.(7)  

Although the reasons for his emigration to the United States are unknown, he settled in El Paso, Texas, in 1956, where he designed his first playground, located in Washington Memorial Park. Archival photographs show four play sculptures in the form of lifelike animals (horse, elephant, fish, turtle), each formed from rubble covered with iron mesh as a base for polished cement, and painted with bright colors. The only one that survives is a turtle-shaped climber with indentations across its shell. Although Domínguez’s creations were cast in situ, he seems to have been inspired by industrially-produced playground equipment, like Milton Hebald’s “Tommy the Turtle,” manufactured by Creative Play Inc. since 1954.(8) This initial project established his basic repertoire of designs, which he would revisit and modify in subsequent projects. 

To gain further commissions, the artist, who barely spoke English, wrote letters to city officials offering his services (he translated them with the help of a dictionary). In 1960 he was hired by the City of Las Vegas to create play-sculptures for Fantasy Park (now destroyed); for this project the artist repeated the turtle and the fish from El Paso, but also created a “Happy Dragon,” with a friendly face and accompanied with seats in the shape of mushrooms.(9) That same year, Domínguez was commissioned to develop play sculptures for the vast Whittier Narrows Recreational Area, in South El Monte, a suburb in the San Gabriel Valley, east of Los Angeles. Domínguez repeated some of his earlier designs (the Happy Dragon and the fish) with astonishing fidelity, considering they were created without molds. He also designed new creatures: a sea snake, a starfish, and a massive octopus, about three meters tall, one of his largest and most sculptural structures. Here for the first and only time he created an abstract climber, similar to those designed in the 1950s by Danish-Swedish architect Egon Møller-Nielsen, made of concrete with organic forms.(10) 

Domínguez would continue to work in the booming new suburbs of Los Angeles over the next years. In 1963 he designed a playground called Atlantis for Garden Grove, a community in Orange County, continuing the marine theme from earlier parks. He repeated the sea snake, octopus and starfish, and added new and complementary play structures: dolphins, a shark, a pirate ship, a whale, and a sea snake slide.(11) Despite some modifications and the loss of the octopus climber, Atlantis Park is well preserved and has been recently restored.

In 1965 the city of San Gabriel hired Domínguez to design what would become his most famous project, the La Laguna Playground, located in Vincent Lugo Park south of the downtown, and known locally as Monster Park.(12) Here, in a more restricted area, he clustered ten play sculptures together and, in some cases, increased their size. The iconographic program includes an octopus like those in Whittier Narrows and Garden Grove, dolphins identical to those in Atlantis, as well as a lighthouse, shipwreck, and additional marine animals such as a seal and an enormous snail—new in his repertoire; and a whale and starfish from previous projects. A long, undulating serpent was placed in the center of the ensemble.

No plans or drawings for these playgrounds survive, and it is difficult to retrace his creative process. However, it seems Domínguez drew heavily from Walt Disney’s visual universe, from the early Silly Symphonies to Disneyland, adapting underwater imagery into child-friendly play elements. In fact, all of his California playgrounds include direct references to Submarine Voyage, a Disneyland attraction that opened in 1959, based on the 1954 film adaption of Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.(13) Visitors rode semi-submerged vehicles along a monorail, where they encountered a giant octopus, shipwrecks and a sea snake, all strikingly similar to Dominguez’s play sculptures. The ride passed through the supposed ruins of Atlantis, perhaps the source of the name of the playground in Garden Grove. What kids had previously seen at the theme park or the movies became something they could touch, climb, and explore at their local playground.

An Aztec Playground for Los Angeles 

In 1973 Domínguez received his final commission from the Plaza de la Raza, a Chicano community center in the Lincoln Heights neighborhood of Los Angeles.(14) Here Domínguez completely changed course, abandoning his marine themes for pre-Hispanic iconography. When Dominguez died the following year, his son Rene completed the project, following the original plan. Although, like other regional examples of the so-called Mayan Revival style(15), this playground draws from different pre-Hispanic cultures, the local community called it the Aztec Playground. He abstracted diverse architectural forms, but softened their edges, making them more cartoon-like, closer to the language of theme parks than to archaeological sites, attractive to children but still identifiable by adults.(16) 

The size and height of Domínguez’s three play structures gave them prominent presence in the extensive park. A radial pyramid featured smooth, sloping surfaces that referenced both the talud-tablero profiles of the Pyramid of the Sun in Teotihuacan, outside of Mexico City, and the feathered serpents that frame the stairways of El Castillo, the main pyramid in the Mayan city of Chichén Itzá on the Yucatán Peninsula. On the play-structure, serpent stairways were placed on two sides, with slides on the other two. Atop the pyramid, a small structure replicates the chamber atop the Castillo, although the much-abstracted Atlantean figures that serve as columns might also reference the monumental warriors found at the Toltec site of Tula, in Central Mexico.(17) Though Domínguez developed his ideas in California, the pyramid may provide evidence that Domínguez was familiar with contemporary Mexican playground design.(18)

Dominguez designed two other innovative play structures for the area. He used Atlantean columns for a swing set, and designed a large slide in the form of a coiled, two-headed feathered serpent inspired by ancient Mexica sculptures. One of the serpent heads was placed at the bottom of the drop that started above with a catilevered platform. The other head adorned the base of the stairs.(19) These historicist features depart from Domínguez’s previous marine “fantasies;” in fact, they resonate more with the contemporary work of Richard Dattner, whose Ancient Playground (1974) in New York’s Central Park was designed “to introduce children to some aspects of ancient Egyptian culture.”(20) Domínguez and his patrons surely had a similar didactic intent.

Conclusions 

By 2022 most of the surviving playgrounds designed by Domínguez were protected and restored as artistic monuments—Atlantis (2013), Whittier Narrows (2015), and La Laguna (2017).(21) However, and notwithstanding its importance to the community, city officials in San Gabriel demolished the Aztec Playground in 2002, citing new safety codes, even though protective strategies had been developed for his other playgrounds.(22) The latter reminds us of the fragile position of designers like Benjamin Domínguez, who is not only absent in the history of American playgrounds, but in broader studies on the role of Mexicans, Mexican-Americans, and Chicanos in shaping the built environment of Southern California, and more generally what Tomás Ybarra-Frausto has called “el México de afuera.” defining it as a locus that: 

[…] includes Mexican Americans born in the United States who speak Spanish and/or English and retain the Mexican cultural heritage informed by their lived experiences in the United States, and the citizens of Mexico who relocated to the United States as exiles and migrants or immigrants.(23)

Domínguez’s playgrounds demonstrate how objects in public space, when well-designed, play a fundamental role in shaping identity and constitute a cultural legacy that must be studied and protected. He created unique landmarks across the suburban landscape of greater Los Angeles and formed cross-border dialogues that date back to the early twentieth century.(24) Further research will hopefully uncover more evidence of his sources and ideas, including connections to key figures in playground design, popular culture, and even Mexican playground design.  

Notes

1 Roy Kozlovsky, “Adventure Playgrounds and Postwar Reconstruction,” in Designing Modern Childhood: History, Space and the Material Culture of Children, eds. Maria Gutman and Ning De Coninck-Smith (Rutgers University Press, 2008), 171.

2 Aldo Solano Rojas, Políticas del juego: arquitectura y diseño del espacio público en el México moderno (Laboratorio para la Ciudad, Buró-Buró, 2017), 10.

3 In the second volume of this special issue, art historian Erika Barbosa examines in depth the creation and eventual protection of La Laguna Playground in San Gabriel and the community activism behind the defense of this site, one of Domínguez’s most important works.

4 Eloy Zárate contacted the artist's family and digitized images from his archive, and spearheaded the effort to preserve and restore La Laguna Playground. Unless otherwise cited, biographical information is taken from Zárate’s Friends of La Laguna website: https://www.friendsoflalaguna.com (hereafter cited as Friends of La Laguna).

5 I could find no record of Domínguez’s attendance in the school’s archive.

6 “Fantasy Park: Mexican Artist Designs A Land of Make Believe Here”, Las Vegas Review, undated clipping (c. 1959). Friends of La Laguna.

7 One of the leading exponents in the United States of faux bois was the Mexican-American Dionicio Rodríguez, who worked in San Antonio in the 1940s. See Patsy Pittman Light, Capturing Nature: The Cement Sculpture of Dionicio Rodríguez (Texas A&M University Press, 2014), 3-8.

8 See Amy F. Ogata, Designing the Creative Child: Playthings and Places in Midcentury America (University of Minnesota Press, 2013), 61.

9 The park was destroyed in the early 1990s. Friends of La Laguna.

10 See Gabriela Burkhalter, The Playground Project (JRP Springer, Kunsthalle Zürich, 2016), 138-43.

11 Garden Grove Historical Society, Garden Grove (Arcadia, 2005), 106.

12 Richard A. Santillan et al., Mexican American Baseball in the San Gabriel Valley (Arcadia, 2018), 28.

13 See Chris Strodder, The Disneyland Encyclopedia (Santa Barbara Press, 2017), 116.

14 Plaza de la Raza was founded in 1969 by Mexican American residents, led by actress Margo Albert and union activist Frank Lopez. In the early 1970s it became an important cultural hub, with an exhibition space and theater workshops. National Association of Latino Arts and Culture, Latino Arts and Cultural Organizations in the United States: A Historical Survey and Current Assessment (The Association, 1998), 65. See also https://www.plazadelaraza.org/history

15 See James Oles, “Reviving the Pre-Hispanic Past from Mexico to California,” in Found in Translation: Design in California and Mexico, 1915-1985, ed. Wendy Kaplan (Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 2018), 126-161; and Marjorie Ingle, The Mayan Revival Style (Gibbs M. Smith Inc., 1984).

16 It is again difficult to know his sources, but all of these ancient elements were widely-published and readily familiar.

17 In 1958, Pedro Ramírez Vázquez incorporated an original column from Tula in the Mexican Pavilion at in World’s Fair in Brussels; another was housed in his Museo Nacional de Antropología in Mexico City, which opened in 1964. They were also used as advertising markers for the Cruz Azul cement company.

18 Architect Edmundo Rodríguez designed pyramid-shaped play sculptures for Mexico City’s social housing projects in the early 1970s. See Aldo Solano Rojas, “Los muebles de concreto del arquitecto Edmundo Rodríguez”, Academia XXII 15, no 29 (junio-noviembre 2024): 121-43. Another, now destroyed, was built in the main plaza of Cholula, Puebla, close to the homonymous archaeological site.

19 I interviewed Stephen Sariñana, professional photographer and Lincoln Heights resident in June 2026. He generously shared images of the playground, as well as personal recollections.

20 Richard Dattner, Design for Play (The MIT Press, 1974), 103.

21 On the restoration and listing of La Laguna Playground see: https://www.laconservancy.org/learn/historic-places/la-laguna-de-san-gabriel/

22 In Whittier Narrows, for example, the city placed warning signs and in Atlantis authorities surrounded the sculptures with soft foam-like pavement.

23 Tomás Ybarra-Frausto, “Foreword”, Anne Elise Urrutia, Miraflores. San Antonio’s Mexican Garden of Memory, (San Antonio: Maverick Books, Trinity University Press, 2022), IX.

24 See Olivier Debroise, “Soy tu pasado; eres mi futuro: México-Los Ángeles,” in Mex/L.A. Mexican Modernism(s) in Los Angeles, 1930-1985, eds. Rubén Ortíz-Torres and Jesse Lerner (Museum of Latin American Art, 2012), 16-21; and Jennifer Josten, “Jet-Setters and Power Players. Cross-Border Design in the Postwar Era”, in Found in Translation, 296-300.

Author

Aldo Solano Rojas (b. Mexico City 1986) earned his MA in Art History in 2016 at the Universidad de Granada, and his PhD in Art History from the Facultad de Filosofía y Letras, UNAM, in 2023. He is the author of Playgrounds del México Moderno (Mexico City: Cubo Blanco, 2018). He has published essays on architecture and design history in a variety of journals. A member of the Mexican chapter of DOCOMOMO since 2024, he currently serves as an adjunct professor at the School of Architecture, UNAM.