This text/manifesto follows “The Many Selves of Being One Self.”
Virtually we all belong to spaces of sensorial interactions, even without our consent. The fact that we are virtually active participants of a network of sensorial interactions makes life a constant challenge that humans in previous historical periods did not consciously experience. I am choosing the term “sensorial interactions” because it is through our senses that we are able to perform an impact in the virtual sphere. Over the last year, I have been obsessively pondering the reality of telepathy and the human behaviours that it produces, at both the individual and the collective levels. However, in order to think seriously about a theory of virtual social systems, it is necessary to focus on the implications that each of our senses force into our individual vital experience. Hearing, for instance, has a predominant role in a virtual sphere against the belief that virtual experiences are rooted in visual experiences. This indeed requires further exploration. For instance, if we are passively contemplating a crowded plaza where people transit carrying out their quotidian endeavours, without us being conscious, sound will have a more expansive impact in our vital experience than, for example, light. It can be a voice, the chirping of the pigeons ruminating in the plaza, or simply the drilling of the men working in the surroundings, but inevitably the chromatics of sound will alter our way of feeling and in consequence our reactions within the virtual sphere. To further explore what I mean with the predominant role of sound within the virtual sphere, I will share an experiment that I have been running in my mind/mindsets as the day begins to unravel once I have recovered the consciousness inherent to being awake.
***
EXPERIMENT
(based on a trained immersion in a sonic reality that invokes
passive/undesired
and
active/desired
forms of otherness)
Are you there? Can’t move my voice. The old man is dead. The child is crazy, he only shouts and cries. The She is not a she. The woman is older than her voice. Stop the birds. The lion can’t speak. Everyone wants to fall asleep. The street makes no sense. No one understands surrealism. That voice only complains about the aching body. I got no family. The cat is high. We promise it if that is what you really want, the android softly whispers. I hate music, the man next door attempts to shout with his dying voice. “Reading does not pay much,” the ignorant imagines that he is shouting as three nurses put him down to sleep. I will never be a man, if manhood is indeed feeling like a man, a crowd spits with hate towards my window while all I want is smoking. Those kids want to hear your stories from another world that you gathered while running next to Perseus. Please sing us a song, the lonely lover says. The monster wants to get back to me, a tiny voice makes its appearance as the drums of a metal song begin to shake the speakers. Covid lives in the subway, a high-pitched voice shouts attempting to sell hammers and miniature spelling manuals. Kill it!, begs the kitty. The crowd, nevertheless, always wants the same. What is that? A change while performing the same train of thoughts and sounds. Dough? Wool? Are you really a Muslim? Can’t get it, you are not really a Muslim, but the kindest and more generous people you have ever met are Arabs. We were generous in a very different way. I agree, but I constantly hear in mise-en-abyme: “take your filthy hands out of my desert.” Bring the rain here. When are they gonna accept that telepathy is really happening and I’m not crazy. They told me to do it, you were gonna finish with that heart. Can you feel a pain somewhere in your body? Great. Why don’t you upgrade the algorithms? Is Corona(virus) a hoax? Why did the Italian painter said, while the interviewer was attempting not to listen, that “they” are inducing irreversible mental patterns in the community? Who is the Invisible Militia? Did you really walk in the air? Did you really see those lights? Please do it again… Who are we? Why is Mercury so mean? How can I upgrade? Remember what they just said? That all the crowd really wants is… while performing the same… Is it really possible? Is the mind really more powerful than a blow? History constantly refutes that bullshit. Can we really defeat technology? We are in a virtual sphere of interactions, we are only incorporeal voices. I am still alive! Children… Poor children… Remember our voices (Indian accented voices, quite beautiful and also slowly breaking apart, then suddenly stopping). Is Silicon Valley already awake? Where is Adrian from? What is philosophy? Therefore I have been philosophizing often throughout the years. Stop these voices inside my head and my stomach! How can I do that without feeling much pain? Why do you dream so much with Tessa? How can you really disappear? “Get your filthy hands out of our desert.” “Bring in a different type of rain.” We are tired of these fonts. The bell suddenly rings. Time out. End of the experiment (note the progression of register, eloquence, and content). Postscript petitioned by a film fan: Can I avoid the fate of Léolo by Jean-Claude Lauzon?Will I ever endeavor theViagem ao Princípio do Mundo by Manoel de Oliveira?Can Milena by Véra Belmont exist without Mahler’s fifth symphony? Is the shamanic strength of The Shout by Jerzy Skolimowski enough to recover her and kill the beast? And finally, when will we purge again? Can we at least listen to Identikit by Radiohead?
***
It is often inevitable to focus on the creaks that emerge within ourselves as we begin to rearticulate those voices that constantly attempt to inhabit all the free space in our mind/set/s. It could easily be that in prior times the volume of those voices was so low that they constantly passed unnoticed as sonic realities, but nonetheless they still performed an impact in our vital experience. Furthermore the somatosensory system constantly articulates waves of sound within our bodies, for this reason I will move on to address the sonic realities attached to coenaesthesia. According to the discipline of biological anthropology, coenaesthesia refers to the biological consciousness of being alive. Through the acquisition of the consciousness of having vital organs that perform directly and indirectly physiological functions we are able to experience life with an acute level of complexity, thus transforming our consciousness in ways that an isolated social interaction tends to simplify. By engaging in virtual social interactions, even if these are undesired, our persuasion of participating in a collective network of sensations makes us reject through subtle reactions the implications that coenaesthesia brings into our individual realm. It is through this individual and subtle set of rejections that we move from the individual to the collective experience of the virtual social sphere.
A virtual social sphere is a space of constant interactions and engagements between human and non-human bodies. In Vibrant Matter: a political ecology of things (Duke UP, 2010), Jane Bennett advances a theory of “vital materiality” and goes on to analyse the role that elements such as stem cells, fish oils, electricity, metal, and trash play in the configuration of events that affect the human and non-human bodies. Through the political and ecological interplay of these bodies, Bennett argues that materiality “is as much force as entity, as much energy as matter, as much intensity as extension… calling into mind a childhood sense of the world as filled with all sorts of animate beings, some human, some not, some organic, some not” (20). This theoretical approach that places materiality as a vital actant, leads to the communicative dimension that entangles the lives and afterlives of human and non-human bodies regardless of their specific atomic configuration. In relation to the various channels that organic and artificial forms of consciousness have created to allow the communication between human and non-human bodies, telepathy – in all its possible forms – has played a crucial role in the development of the virtual social sphere, and it also allows us to differentiate it from other social spaces that have been labelled as virtual, such as those created through the use of technological devices (I have mentioned in other texts some of the multiple uses of Android devices and Artificial Intelligence in the postmodern era). Telepathy itself is not a new technology, but it does reinforce the idea that our brain is one of the most powerful “Android” devices that we can possess as far as we are able to gain control over its power and energy. Without a brain and the energy that it infuses in our senses, a living being would not be able to enter a virtual social sphere. And even though the natural realm is the most complex biosystem on Earth to the extent of manifesting itself in ways that often go beyond our comprehension, a virtual social sphere (as a key feature of the Anthropocene) implies conscious brain activity and sensorial participation. Therefore, a virtual social system is a network of virtual social spheres. Within a community there are various virtual social spheres interacting with one another and producing and reproducing ways of feeling and sensorial behaviours.
It is paradoxical that even though our senses articulate the structure of coenaesthesia thanks to brain energy, we as humans still have little control over the ways in which we assimilate the reactions that our senses produce in our bodies. As we are able to gain consciousness and take control of our telepathic and sensorial behaviours in the virtual social sphere, which is where most of our life is happening (we all live in a virtual social sphere even without our consent as I mentioned at the beginning of this text), individual entities can allocate their energy in specific “tasks” in order to mobilize and, possibly, transform their reality. A virtual social system, moreover, is the theoretical organization of manifold virtual social spheres. As telepathy implies also a confusing level of anonymity, the organization of a virtual social system requires brain levels of coordination that surpass the abilities of an individual entity. The conclusion of this text, crafted for children, signals towards, on the one hand, the progressive acquisition of consciousness of the virtual social sphere/s where our life is happening, and, on the other, that without this consciousness we run the risk of being mobilized within a virtual social system that might, without our consent, play a negative effect within ourselves.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
TOSKO (Fernando Pimentel) is a Brazilian multimedia artist and art educator who lives and works in Limeira, in the countryside of the state of São Paulo. His work crosses the boundaries separating street and fine arts. In this interview Tosko tells us a little about his career trajectory and about what shapes his practice and his art.
Tosko, what kind of education/ training has helped you develop the skills needed to become a visual artist? Tell us a little about your background and how you got to where you are at.
I begun my [artistic] trajectory during secondary school1 in the mid-2000s, without any vocation for the arts, no history of relatives that were artists or were into drawing, and least of all any support from my mother. The truth is I was a capoeirista2 (a sport I practised for 20 years) and I believed that was my future. But arriving at a new school I came across a group of kids that did pichações3 and enjoyed drawing the famous throw ups, so I slowly got interested and began to study graffiti and the hip hop universe on the sly, painting and creating my own designs, always trying to deal with some kind of theme, some message or idea of the world, but I didn’t study art history, just graffiti.
I studied graphic design in university, there I came across Art History as a discipline and realised I knew nothing at all about art, artists, art movements, and everything that permeates this universe, so, like someone realising they’ve arrived late at the party, I dove into the study of the many “-isms”, and into this huge universe that is art and its many possibilities. Soon after this reality shock I started working in social projects and graffiti workshops and I saw the possibility of teaching art in schools. So I went on to get a full degree in art teaching, and I’ve been teaching the subject for 15 years, meanwhile I also worked on a post-graduate course in History of Art. To summarize, I started to paint by chance, then naturally and quite slowly I went on marking my path within the visual arts.
Who have been your artistic ‘role models’ or ‘idols’ (even if their style isn’t reflected in your work)? What artistic traditions would you say have had the biggest influence over your work and practice?
There are many artists I admire and that have in one way or another helped shape my work. In the graffiti world I very much admire the Brazilians OsGêmeos, Speto, Vitché, Paulo Ito, Titi Freak among others.From abroad I like the work of Alexis Diaz, Inti, Aryz, Saner, Interesni Kazki. Now, outside the urban art universe I am a fan of Vincent Van Gogh for his vibrant colours, I enjoy the drawing styles of Egon Schiele and [Toulouse] Lautrec, the composition, colours and symbols of Gustav Klimt, and the symbolism of René Magrite and Frida Khalo.
DCIM102GOPRO
What kind of artist would you say you are?
I often catch myself thinking about this. The truth is I don’t know what kind of artist I am, or how to define what I make. I don’t believe I belong to an artistic movement, not even within urban art, but I’d define myself as a symbolist. After all, my work moves towards this symbolic field, the unreal. Anyway, without knowing what it is supposed to be [in advance] I just make it, naturally and without worrying about classifications.
Where does the impulse to create art come from?
I believe it comes from my life experience and all that surrounds me, family, work, dreams, ideals, frustrations, etc. All that’s what moves me towards making [art] and creating symbols.
Tell us about the experience of making art in the countryside of São Paulo / in Brazil, i.e. outside the dominant economic and cultural centres of Europe and the US. How do you navigate the art market?
It is very frustrating sometimes, and here in the countryside I’m often disappointed with the general mindset and the way artistic production as a whole isn’t valued, not just my segment, but in general. I try to show my work online, through social media, and in this way I manage to close some deals, but it is something very home made, with all the problems that come from not being a “pop-star” in this digital universe.
I believe many have the ambition of taking their work abroad; I have tried – responding to artists’ calls, competitions for international exhibitions, etc – but with little success, and I suspect that is the case because my work is not particularly well known worldwide. But who knows, maybe one day (laughs) [I’ll be able to] sell my work in currencies that are better valued than the real.4
The old problem of not being well-known enough to get well-known!
Now I was going to ask the indiscreet question: are you able to live off your work as an artist? But you have already told us you work as an art teacher.
Sadly I don’t make a living out of my own artistic production. I work as an art teacher at a school, and in my free time I study, do my research and produce my [art] work. I’d love to say in this interview that I live exclusively off making art. Even as I teach, I am fulfilling the plans of those in charge and not my own dreams of being all day at the studio, producing art and making sales. Right now I’m represented by two galleries here in the country. One located at Beco do Batman, in São Paulo (Galeria Ziv), the other is in Balneário Camboriú(Galeria Cosmos).5
What would you say are the main obstacles Brazilian visual artists (specially the ones coming from outside the main centres) have to overcome in order to develop a career?
As we are in the middle of this pandemic at the moment business is lukewarm – with the general crisis the country is going through due to the current government and the lack of foresight in public management.
There is also the fact that much cultural production is seen as a [less important] subcategory when compared to other, more popular, cultural products that are huge here in Brazil, such as country music, soap operas, reality shows, digital influencers, etc.
Not to mention the ‘trend’ artists, who base their artistic production on trends coming from fashion or design, they modify the work according to market pressures – which I think is detrimental to those producing art.
I have seen lots of images of your work and noticed a mix of street art, paintings on canvas and, more recently, sculpture. What materials do you like to use?
I tend to use whatever materials I have at hand, or what I can get, so I usually have to adapt and see what I can do with what I’ve got.
In my paintings, both on the street and at the studio, I use a water-based synthetic enamel, colourants and acrylic paint. In the sculptures I usually use a synthetic clay (like an industrial papier-mâché) and depending on the work I also use wood, plastic, etc.
Street art is seen as an essentially rebellious and politically engaged art category. Would you say your work has a political side or carries some kind of social message?
Yes, to be painting on the street in a way puts you in a position of having something to say, as things are happening right there around you. But I don’t work with a political “side” in my art, though of course it is political to the extent that I have class consciousness. In my production I strive to speak, even if symbolically, of themes related to the human and the way we live together with other species and the whole natural universe that surrounds us.
I think it is really interesting the way your works depict these hybrid creatures – a crazy mix of humans, plants, and animals of all kinds – and how it seems to have a connection with environmental themes. In my view, this mixture contests notions of separation and dissolves traditionally established hierarchies between human and non-human.
Could you tell us a little about your reasons behind this mix, and the ideas you want to convey?
My work consists in dealing with the human and the relations it establishes, be it with individuals of the same species or with all other living creatures or nature in its totality. The work is symbolist in character, so there is a study of symbols, mythology, folklore, shamanism, and of the peoples that utilize this kind of language, so that every animal depicted has a symbolic relationship with the theme I have in mind.
Sometimes I can’t find the right symbols, so I have to go on and create them, seeing art permits us this freedom.
I use animals as the top part of [the body of] these humanoid characters as a way of talking about instinct, where the animal instinct may prevail over the human. Like the relationship and the difference in the mythologies of the Minotaur and the Centaur, both are hybrids, but each act in different ways due to the “position” of the animal in the myth.6 There are also [formal] elements that help with the composition, such as flowers, outer space, wings, multiple limbs (arms and legs), and the character’s pose.
What guides your choice when it comes to the species you include?
Sometimes I research the symbolic connections of a certain animal and the works follows, but sometimes I don’t have that kind of information, so I go on building these symbolic associations. I choose animals that have some sort of relation to the theme I am approaching. For example, if I want to talk about something related to freedom, I might use some kind of bird, for what the idea of flying means to us, or if I’m talking about wisdom I might use a baboon or some other primate, so the work develops from there.
Despite the many different species composing them, and the various objects your characters bring along, often they are shown floating or dancing over an expansion of colour, in an anonymous space. How significant is this displacement of the individual (who is multiple) towards a neutral space, in contrast with a specific place?
This movement of lightness is something that recurs in my work, I like [the idea of] this sensation of the feet hovering above the ground. The colours are applied as I gradually think and develop the work. Sometimes I have a sketch, but I usually paint without a sketch, so the work develops organically.
Many of your works depict small bottles, sometimes they contain little creatures, sometimes they hold whole universes. Could you tell us more about this, why so many bottles? By now I suspect they have some kind of symbolic meaning in your work.
The “bottled ones” are sort of characters, or situations, that are put away in a small space, and it is possible [for us] to look inside. In relation to the little universes, I just think it is very interesting to think about all that can fit inside a bottle.
Very Men In Black (laughs).
And Tosko, what are your plans for the future (in relation to exhibitions, new media, materials, plans for taking over the world…)?
I only plan to paint, to sculpt, to draw, and to come out alive on the other side of this chaos we are living through.
2Capoeira is a Brazilian cultural expression that mixes martial arts, sport, popular culture, dance and music; capoeirista is the person who practices capoeira.
3 Pichação (s.), pichações (pl.): a unique, Brazilian form of tagging found characterized by its distinct, cryptic style.
4 Real (s.), reais (pl.), Brazilian currency; as of 13/Apr/2021 £1 equals R$ 7.89.
5 Beco do Batman (or “Batman’s alley”) is the nickname of an area within the neighbourhood of Vila Madalena, in the city of São Paulo. It is famous for its high concentration of graffiti works, and it has become a popular tourist destination. Balneário Camboriú is a major beach resort city in the Brazilian southern state of Santa Catarina.
6 The Minotaur has the head of a bull and a human body, whereas the Centaur has the head and torso of a human and the body and legs of a horse.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
childhood appears to have become a fictional status that guarantees constant despair and a wandering journey of self discovery
In a 2018 article, titled “What Kids Need to Learn to Succeed in 2050,”[1] Yuval Noah Harari suggests that “the art of reinvention will be the most critical skill of this century,” a claim that echoes some of the premises of decolonial theory – which became an epistemological doctrine in the voices of scholars like Walter Mignolo and Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak during the recent fin de siècle period -. Decolonial theory, as it was formulated in the American continent, called for a relearning program that, as Harari suggests, aimed at reinventing our intellectual behavior in order to apprehend the world around us through a new set of epistemological lenses. This, in turn, would transform the experience of adulthood into a new form of intellectual infancy, which didn’t imply a devolving state per se, but it did push adults into new patterns of intellectual behavior as the means to transform both social and economic dynamics for the sake of a more egalitarian global order. The novel Ferdydurke (1937) by Polish Witold Gombrowicz, without being a decolonial literary text, portrays the experience of a writer who is forced to attend Elementary School again. Ferdydurke has been often described as a cult novel or an ode to stupidity and immaturity, for the thirty-year-old main character wanders through a limbo that does not allow him to put himself together in a coherent manner, as he confesses in the beginning of the novel:
“I even imagined that my body was not entirely homogeneous, and that parts of it were not yet mature, that my head was laughing at and mocking my thigh, that my thigh was making merry at my head, that my finger was ridiculing my heart and my heart my brain, while my eye made sport of my nose and my nose of my eye, all to the accompaniment of loud bursts of crazy laughter- my limbs and the various parts of my body violently ridiculing each other in a general atmosphere of caustic and wounding raillery […] according to my papers and my appearance, I was grown up. But I was not mature.”
As the novel progresses, we follow Ferdydurke – whose name is also a form of mocking him – through a series of absurd situations that ultimately drive him into a pathetic derangement that only emphasizes his immaturity and lack of preparedness for adulthood. One of the failures of Ferdydurke is his lack of imagination to reinvent himself, as he becomes a mere witness of his life and he endeavors his time to escape from the absurd challenges that reality poses in front of him. Unlike Kafka’s Gregor Samsa – who has to die in order to free his family of the ominous weight of his presence -, Ferdydurke seems doomed to an ever-lasting childish existence anchored to the absurd violence shaping the sociopolitical landscape of his times. In a form, reducing the population to a subordinated existence during the formative years is one of the mechanisms to both shape individuality and preserve the ruling order, even if it is an asphyxiating regime that establishes immaturity as the ideological status quo.
Less than one decade before the publication of Ferdydurke, Jean Cocteau published Les Enfants Terribles, a novel that paved the ground, in terms of historical literary reception, for works that explored the meaning of childhood within an environment determined by the confinement and alienation brought by WWII. Cocteau’s novel, written in a few weeks while he was recovering in a hospital, portrays the coming to age experience of the siblings Paul and Elisabeth, who grew up without a father and with a mother constantly sick and thus anchored to the vanishing existence of living in a bed.
The novel’s foundational event introduces Dargelos, a character that will bring disgrace to Paul since childhood. While Paul and Dargelos are playing during winter time with other kids, Dargelos hits Paul with a rock covered in snow, producing in the latter an illness that will accompany him up to his death. While Ferdydurke illustrates the vicissitudes of an adult reduced to a sort of mandatory childhood, Les Enfants Terribles portrays quite the opposite, as Elisabeth is forced by the illnesses of his mother and Paul to become an adult since her childhood. Due to this, both Elisabeth and Paul experience an iconoclastic teenagehood that takes place within the walls of their bedroom. Growing up in such an environment, which Elisabeth fills with constant avant-garde elements, provides Paul a melancholic and pessimistic view of reality that ultimately drives him into a drug addiction that will provoke his death. This way, both Ferdydurke and Paul become paradigmatic examples of men that – recalling Harari’s article – fail at reinventing themselves due to their immaturity and atavist relationship with their historical time.
Even though these works were produced almost a century ago, under the light of both Ferdydurke and Les enfants Terribles – as the world progressively becomes the permanent host of Coronavirus – childhood appears to have become a fictional status that guarantees constant despair and a wandering journey of self discovery that will promise constant failure to those children that come from disadvantaged backgrounds. Almost silently, the Coronavirus pandemic has dismantled the fundaments of familiarity and social solidarity for the sake of an invisible race to preserve a foggy and disjointed sense of individuality. Just a fast glance to the world news reveal that global society is under constant attack. Violence against children and women within the household has reached unprecedented peaks, while public spaces are a permanent battleground shaped by police and military brutality and the ideological confusion sprung by all sorts of protests on both extremes of the political spectrum.
In addition, the irregular and parenthetical go-back-to-school process has left millions of children away from educational settings and in many cases it has also produced a very early retirement from formal education. The question, thinking about Harari’s 2050 generation of successful individuals able to reinvent themselves, is if the world itself will be at all the home for humanity as we keep envisioning it in 2020. If historical memory prevails, the 2050 generation will probably blame the Coronavirus pandemic and its political artifices for their failure, just as Ferdydurke and Paul point towards institutional fractures – thinking about both family and the public sphere – as the obstacles that prevented the full development of their human capacities. It might be due to constant illness or the redundancy of being confined to a mental childhood what will unleash the last breath of modern society just to open up the path for a kind of social order that in the long run seems a mere fable of science fiction, a place where cars fly, people float giving up to the endeavor of walking, and everyone works from home and a simple blink of the eyes brings food to the door, all while human politics has collapsed to the automated and hyper-intelligent global design of a Super Artificial Intelligence.
In the meantime and thinking about childhood, the present seems an iterative replay of the last scene of the film High-Rise (2015), which frames an isolated and critical child sitting on the top of an all-in-one building smoking from a water pipe while all the adults from the building have surrendered to a decadent lifestyle that has ultimately brought the total collapse of the infrastructure and living conditions of a building that was designed with the sole intention of bringing the maximum comfort to its residents. As an early Millennial that was constantly fed by the cultural remnants of the X-Generation, if I had the opportunity to choose my role in such a building, I would be inevitably the child smoking a water pipe, rendering oblivion to the struggles of a decadent adulthood, and giving up my senses to the sky that appears in front of my sight. Only from that perspective, the 2050 generation appears to me as a possibility, for the remnants of modern life, with all the excesses, brutality, and incoherent forms of government have proved to be the best way to exhaust both individuality and social allegiances.
Works Cited
Ferdydurke, Witold Gombrowicz, Yale University Press, 2000.
High-Rise, directed by Ben Wheatley, 2015.
Les Enfants Terribles, Jean Cocteau, Vintage Classics, 2011.
“What Kids Need to Learn to Succeed in 2050,” Yuval Noah Harari, Medium, Sep. 13, 2018, web.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
The final monologue between Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer) and Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) in The Blade Runner (1982) is one of the most memorable of cinema, in my opinion, due to the context in which it takes place. Roy Batty is an android that, in the words of his creator, has “burnt so very, very brightly,” referring to the fact that Batty has excelled at optimizing all his skills in half the time that it would take a “normal” android. The Blade Runner is an epic tale of a dystopic cosmopolitan society that has left on Earth those who are considered the remnants of an older social and biological order that hinders the futuristic goals of the new architects of life across the cosmos. Those who have watched the film know that Deckard is a human special agent whose mission is tracking and capturing androids who have become rebels. The monologue takes place right when it seems that Deckard is about to capture Batty, but the strength of the leader of the android rebellion pushes Deckard to a near dying situation. It is both the mercy and empathy of Batty that makes him save a defeated Deckard, who amidst confusion and fear, witnesses Batty’s monologue, which begins with the android stating that “I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe,” referring to the catastrophic war scenes and the beauty that he has captured in his memory over the time of his cosmic endeavors. The scene, and the film as a whole, constantly establishes an irremediable division between human and non-human entities, suggesting a near-future global scenario that will witness the emergence of Artificial Intelligence as a key driver of evolutionary transformation based on individual skills.
In a previous essay (“Ray Bradbury On War, Recycling, And Artificial Intelligence”), quoting Bryan Walsh, I posed the technological dilemma of being invisibly controlled by forms of Artificial Intelligence that find useless to develop empathy towards humans as a necessary moral tool to achieve their goals. Roy Batty incarnates so to speak an Artificial Intelligence that suddenly expresses a radical form of empathy towards an “enemy” agent whose ultimate goal is to destroy him. Nevertheless, Batty’s reaction – when Deckard’s fate is in his hands – is to forgive his life and use that moment to display a form of consciousness that goes beyond the comprehension of human intelligence, at least during war times. Even though Batty ultimately dies, although not under the control of Deckard, the vital experience of the leader of the androids somehow echoes Dante’s journey in the Divina Commedia (1320), as after going through a strenuous time of constant cosmic revolt, he is able to finally seek an afterlife beyond the dystopic scenarios that have determined his existence. The last verse of the Inferno narrates the exit of both Dante and Virgil from hell, and as if a cosmic image was awaiting the arrival of those who have undertaken the sort of vital journey narrated in the Divina Commedia, once they reached the instant that comes after the end of hell, the reader is presented a final, yet also foundational, image, “E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle” (“And then we exited [Hell] to see the stars”). The simplicity of the image, drawn in the 14th century, echoes – as I suggested above – Batty’s journey, who in his monologue mentions among the things that people wouldn’t believe to be real, “[I watched] Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.” As Dante draws in the final scene of the Inferno, what Batty paints off his memory is a sort of epitaph contained in astral scenes of both war and aesthetic beauty.
Following this philological lead, among the first verses of the Paradiso, Dante suggests, “Perchè, appressando se al suo disire,/Nostro intelletto si profonda tanto,/Che retro la memoria non può ire” (“Because, once near our desires,/our intellect reaches such depths,/that our memory cannot follow them”). Here Dante not only suggests that the intellect is faster than memory, but also that there are experiences that can only be contained within the layers of intellectual labor, experiences that ultimately will escape from our mnemonic mechanisms. In the case of The Blade Runner, what Batty desires is to live longer, for he is in the final stage of his life right in the moment when he has mastered his individual skills and has developed a kind of affection towards a female android that cannot be compared to the ways humans understand affection or even love. Nevertheless, as his creator explained to Batty, the fact that he has optimized himself in half the time that a normal android has also exasperated his vital energy, for in order to perform a task in half the time is required to consume energy at a faster pace.
The social landscape where The Blade Runner is staged is that of a decaying economy anchored in a post-industrial urban design that exposes individuals to an irremediably polluted biological system. Even though the film is staged in a futuristic scenario, among the urban dystopic scenes that the audience is presented, it remains in the memory of those which portray the combusting flames that emerge from the pipes of what seems to be an oil refinery. Again, the image echoes scenes of horror and punishment from Dante’s Divina Commedia, as if the social division drawn in Dante’s masterpiece had been thought as a paradigmatic archetype of urban design inherent to modernity. There are various centuries of distance between the early modern period of Dante’s Divina Commedia and the post-modern stage of The Blade Runner. However, a philological approach would render visible what at a first glance seems to lack foundations. As a corollary, and in order to incite a philological debate, I would suggest – as a working theory – that on the one hand we could situate an incipient formulation of Artificial Intelligence within the early modern period using Dante’s Divina Commedia as a departing stage, while, on the other hand, as The Blade Runner portrays and despite the centuries of distance, the postmodern period – thinking about it from Lyotard’s theorization – cannot erase the social divisions rooted in the expression of intelligence established and enacted since the early modern period.
In a form, in both the Divina Commedia and The Blade Runner individuals often lose their social identity and status to become – at least temporarily – someone who they are not to experience social situations that otherwise they wouldn’t. Nevertheless, what ultimately sets the ontological-inflection-point amidst this socially confusing landscape is the impotence and frustration that humans incorporate into their experience while they have to confront android/artificial intelligence/skills. Both forms of life/intelligence may share the same sociobiological landscapes, as it happens when Deckard is fighting Batty, but the consequences for both will follow different pathways, precisely because each departed from an equidistant intelligent design also with different purposes. When Roy Batty is reciting his monologue in front of a defeated Rick Deckard, who is lying down exhausted on the ground, the mere action of remembering the cosmic scenes that he has witnessed/experienced infuses Batty with a kind of vital energy that Deckard is unable to fathom. Intellectual imagery, which is a form of philological witchcraft, is what sets androids and humans apart – as it happens between Batty and Deckard-, I mean, the precious skill of fixing in one’s memory the aesthetic elements that populate our historical experience and, as Batty does, the ability to bring those memories to the present time, even when death seems to be approaching, or in Dante’s words, the final yet conciliatory moment in which we “uscimmo a riveder le stelle”.
REFERENCES
La Divina Commedia, Dante Alighieri. Edizione Terza Romana di Baldassarre Lombardi. Roma, Nella Stamperia de Romanis: 1822.
The Blade Runner, dir. Ridley Scott, 1982.
“Ray Bradbury On War, Recycling, And Artificial Intelligence,” Franco Laguna Correa. JSTOR Daily/Public Books: January, 2020.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
El pixel art es a la vez abstracto e impresionista. Se ve como una suerte de puntillismo sin trazo pero su elemento mínimo, el pixel, le otorga un misterioso aura virtual. Les llamamos pixels a esos cuadraditos, la mínima porción colorada en nuestro programa de dibujo. Es cierto, en su sentido técnico un pixel es otra cosa (es un punto), pero a los fines fenomenológicos la idea de ‘cuadradito’ es más apropiada. Porque así es como aparece el pixel art, como formado por minúsculos cuadraditos. Su asociación a los videojuegos es entendible: las limitaciones gráficas de los primeros juegos requerían un modo de representación acorde. La limitación de resolución y cromática, sin embargo, es subvertida en el pixel art. Ella no es un límite, sino una oportunidad.
Con Nepantla hemos entrevistado a tres artistas pixelarias: Vulpixl, Antorcha.exe y Matildecaboni. Las tres nos permitieron indagar un poco en sus diferentes perspectivas. Los video juegos estuvieron históricamente orientados a los usuarios masculinos. Piénsese por ejemplo en el típico argumento de Donkey Kong (1981) Super Mario (1985) o Wonderboy (1986): rescatar a la princesa o amada. Es cierto que había personajes femeninos, siendo Ms. Pac-Man (1982) uno de los ejemplo clásicos más conocidos. Sin embargo, nunca llegaron a ser mayoría La situación no mejora durante los 90’s, a pesar del burdo intentos de los ‘girl games‘ para ganar consumidoras con juegos abiertamente patriarcales de Barbi. Esto no quiere decir que las mujeres no los jugaran, pero discursivamente no aparecían como las destinatarias del imaginario gamer. Quedaban excluídas de su representación. Como dice Vulpixl: “Lo cierto es que mujeres y videojuegos no es una combinación inusual y nunca lo fue, así mismo sucede con el pixel art; solo que quizás nuestra presencia se vio opacada por distintos factores que, hoy día, siguen influyendo pero en menor medida”.
Es por eso que la idea de un pixel art femenino parece tan relevante. No se trata de cualquier formato, sino de la re-apropiación de un medio que estuvo dominado mayoritariamente por programadores hombres. Eso no significa reducir estas artistas a su género, sino reconocer una dimensión extra que nos permite apreciar su arte aún más.
Hay un devenir-revolucionario de los pixels y la nostalgia?
Vulpixl
VULPIXL
– ¿Cómo empezaste con el pixelart y por qué?
Podría decir que empecé hace cuatro años, a mediados de junio del 2016. Digo “podría” porque en realidad mi primer dibujo fue medio al azar, sin intenciones de hacer pixel art en sí, y, encima, no era algo muy digno de englobarlo en este estilo.
Esto surgió porque estaba garabateando en MS Paint y quise editar un detalle del dibujo que estaba mal; le puse máximo zoom y me di cuenta que con esos cuadraditos en pantalla podía hacer pixel art (tremenda revelación).
Hice algunos dibujos más, muy aleatorios, y los fui subiendo a redes, y, a medida que mis amigxs me iban alentando a seguir haciendo, me fui entusiasmando y eso me dio pie para crear VULPIXL, que, si bien existe desde el 2016, considero que su nacimiento real fue en 2018, cuando fui encontrando mi propio estilo y el que terminó de forjar la estética que tiene hoy día.
– ¿Qué te atrajo del pixel art?
Principalmente me gusta mucho el tema de los colores; cómo pueden explotarse tan bien en un estilo con paletas tan reducidas, o cómo combinaciones que en otro tipo de arte quizás no imaginarías, quedan super bien en el pixel art; así como también el hecho de que se pueda jugar tanto con la imaginación y con la interpretación en cada pixel. Creo que es un tipo de arte muy preciso y eso me atrapa porque genera, al menos en mí, cierto desafío; poner un pixel acá o allá puede cambiar la expresión en un rostro, la dimensión de un espacio, entre otras cosas.
También me gusta la versatilidad que dispone este estilo; se puede ilustrar tanto una obra caricaturesca o fantasiosa, hasta paisajes o retratos realistas y, así y todo, seguirá teniendo un encanto visual inmenso.
Vulpixl
– Se asocia mucho el pixel art con la nostalgia por lo retro, etc. ¿Cómo puede salirse de esa forma de pensar orientada puramente hacia el pasado? O, mejor dicho, ¿cómo se puede hacer arte retro, pero sin que sea pura nostalgia?
Creo que esto tiene un poco que ver con lo que mencionaba antes sobre lo versátil de este arte; toda obra aporta cierto atractivo independientemente de su relación directa con el pasado, y está bueno tener eso presente al momento de idear un dibujo.
Un poco de la gracia del pixel art la encuentro en salirse de esa asociación pixel = retro, pero el poder desprenderse de ese apego al ayer, depende mucho de a qué apunta cada unx.
En lo personal, la mayoría de mis ilustraciones van por el lado nostálgico, no tanto de los videojuegos en sí, sino más bien de toda una época, una estética y cierto estilo de vida; pero hay muchxs artistas píxel cuyas obras no tienen ningún tipo de relación con esto y saben lograr una separación entre lo retro y la nostalgia.
Pienso que, si bien es un estilo que inevitablemente nos retrotrae a una época particular, también se puede explorar y explotar con contenidos muy diversos que no necesariamente estén impulsados por la añoranza.
– ¿Cómo fue tu infancia digital? ¿Qué juegos se te guardaron en la memoria?
En casa teníamos el Family, SEGA Genesis, y la Playstation 1.
Tengo presente muy lindos recuerdos de tardes enteras jugando junto a mis hermanxs, así como también sola por la noche sin que mis viejxs se den cuenta. A veces jugaba tantas horas que, cuando me iba a dormir, deliraba que estaba en cierto nivel y no podía pasarlo, o cosas así.
Mis juegos eran más bien los de aventura; de SEGA me gustaban mucho los de Mickey y/o Donald (Castle y World of Illusion, Quackshot, Donald in Maui Mallard). Fuera de los videojuegos, no me gustaba mucho el mundo Disney pero, siguiendo con esta línea, tienen su merecido lugar en mi corazón juegazos como The jungle book o Tale Spin.
Obviamente también clásicos como Sonic the Hedgehog o Tiny Toons Buster’s Hidden Treasure tuvieron gran impacto en mí.
De PS1, jugaba mucho a todos los Crash Bandicoot así como también al Croc, GEX, Ape Escape, Spyro the dragon, entre otros.
No menciono todos los juegos que tienen una cuota especial de cariño porque no termino más, pero una mención especial para el Bloody Roar, Tekken y Quake que, si bien escapaba al tipo de juegos que me gustaban, tenían un atractivo especial que me atrapaba y me enviciaba mucho.
– Algunas de tus imágenes tienen una lectura feminista muy interesante. Lo digo en el sentido de que la cultura “gamer” siempre estuvo representada en el imaginario por hombres. ¿Cómo ves la presencia de mujeres en la escena del pixel art? ¿Tenés algún recuerdo de tu infancia “girl-gamer” que ilustre algo de eso?
Creo que la presencia de mujeres en estos ámbitos es esencial para mermar un mismo prejuicio que está en muchos lados, basado en que prácticamente cualquier actividad que hagamos y que no responda al clásico estereotipo ya conocido, se hace por pura pose (desde jugar videojuegos, hasta tener afición por los comics, o consumir animé, por poner algunos ejemplos).
Me pasa muy seguido que, cuando subo un dibujo a grupos destinados al pixel art y éste tiene cierta trascendencia, saltan algunos hombres indignados a comentarme cosas como que está mal hecho, o que debería editar tal o cual cosa, o que los colores están mal, y otras cosas que, si bien en algunos casos pueden ser ciertas, la realidad es que cada comentario está lejos de querer ser una crítica constructiva y connotan cierta posición de superioridad; da la sensación de estar debajo de una lupa donde tenemos que demostrar cuánto sabemos y esperar si nos dan el ok para existir como gamers o como pixel artistas o como cualquier cosa en la que se sientan un poco invadidos.
Obviamente esto no se da siempre así; por lo general se recibe buena onda y, de hecho, quienes más apoyaron mi trabajo a lo largo de estos años, fueron hombres.
En mi infancia no sufrí mucho de esa ‘representación masculina’, al contrario; jugaba mucho con mis hermanos y con mis amigos y nunca hubo ningún prejuicio con eso, cuando sos niñx está todo bien. Pero, ya siendo adolescente, sí comenzaba a pesar cierto estigma del que hablaba antes y ese mansplaining continuo que siempre estuvo presente en este ambiente.
Lo cierto es que mujeres y videojuegos no es una combinación inusual y nunca lo fue, así mismo sucede con el pixel art; solo que quizás nuestra presencia se vio opacada por distintos factores que, hoy día, siguen influyendo pero en menor medida.
– ¿Cuál fue la imagen que más tiempo te tomó hacer?
Por lo general, las que más tiempo me toman son las comisiones porque, al ser trabajos para otras personas, el nivel de exigencia es otro y, por ende, el nivel de ansiedad también. Por lo que suelo tener bloqueos artísticos importantes que hace que todo tarde muchísimo más de lo debido.
En cuanto a mis trabajos de autor, creo que el que más tiempo me tomó fue el del zorrito manejando una nave; ya que nunca había dibujado algo similar y estuve un buen rato para terminar todo el conjunto del dibujo; desde la nave hasta el fondo que, también, le metí una buena cantidad de horas y cuadraditos.
Vulpixl
– ¿Cómo viviste la cuarentena y qué estuviste haciendo?
Cuando empezó esto del aislamiento, creí que tendría mucho más tiempo y energía para dibujar todos los días y subir, como mínimo, un dibujo por semana. Pero nada más lejos de la realidad; esta cuarentena implica un contexto raro y delicado, que provoca muchas emociones causantes de bloqueos en los que a veces no puedo dibujar nada.
Igualmente, como VULPIXL estuve trabajando en distintos proyectos (que espero pronto salgan a la luz), y también en muchas comisiones, cosa que ayudó a mantener el ritmo y poder hacer algunas ilustraciones propias.
En general, unx termina encontrando la forma de adaptarse a ciertos escenarios nuevos y de adaptar, también, su medio de expresión; por mi parte sigo en este proceso de adaptación y ansío volver a poder hacer exposiciones o ferias que, la verdad, se extrañan mucho.
Antorcha.exe
Antorcha.exe
-¿Cómo te enganchaste con el pixel art? La ilustración digital es algo que practico hace varios años, desde los 17 aprox. Sin embargo, comencé a hacer pixel art hace menos de un año en octubre para el inktober. Es un estilo sencillo y lo llamaría carismático, tiene buena aceptación, es fácil y entretenido de hacer, por eso continué aun después de octubre.
-Cómo se sale de la asociación del pixel art con la nostalgia retro? Salir de ese estigma es complicado, se necesitarían trabajos en muchos campos para cambiar la visión retro que tiene el pixel art, porque al día de hoy es un estilo que se usa mayoritariamente en videojuegos e ilustraciones y se sigue buscando que represente este estilo lofi. Yo creo que para cambiar eso se necesitaría que el estilo llegase a la música y animación moderna y explorar sus límites.
Antorcha.exe
–En tu caso, hiciste algunas imágenes sobre la situación actual chilena. Es genial ver esa apropiación de la estética pixel en un contexto latinoamericano. Cómo se te ocurrió? Por dos razones principales: por mi deber de artista y para expresar mis propias emociones. Creo que los artistas han cumplido un rol muy importante en el estallido social para plasmar todo lo que estaba ocurriendo y mostrarlo a la gente, naturalmente yo quería ser parte de eso, y por supuesto como un ejercicio de expresión personal.
Antorcha.exe
-Cómo fue tu infancia digital? Qué juegos se te guardaron en la memoria? Uff, si esperaban que dijera “pasé horas jugando pokemon en una ds” creo que van a estar decepcionados, nos divertíamos principalmente jugando entre nosotros y viendo television. Pero con mis hermanos si pasamos mucho tiempo jugando a los juegos de SEGA y MAME32 en el computador. Los que más nos gustaban eran los de 8bits, Arabian, Paperboy, Jurassic Park y Sonic.
Matilde
Matildecaboni
¿Cómo empezaste a dibujar con pixels?
De hecho, aprendí muy recientemente. Durante los primeros meses de cuarentena decidí participar en un pequeño proyecto en el que haría el arte de un simple juego de computadora. Antes estaba interesada en pixel art, pero esto me motivó a comenzar a aprender sobre él desde el punto de vista artístico. Durante la creación del juego, comencé a crear piezas separadas en las que experimenté con más libertad, lo que ayudó más a desarrollar el lado más artístico e imaginativo de mi trabajo, mientras que el proyecto me dio las limitaciones que me impulsaron a mejorar el aspectos técnicos del pixel art.
¿Qué encontrás atractivo en el pixel art?
Realmente disfruto su aspecto, su versatilidad y la conexión entre los videojuegos retro y la tecnología de mi infancia. De una manera más artística, encontré estimulante el límite de dibujar con pequeños cuadrados, y cómo te hace ser creativa e ingeniosa para superar esta limitación.
Matilde
Me interesa eso, ¿cómo ves la relación del pixel art con lo retro?
Creo que el pixel art es un medio que puede sostenerse por sí mismo sin estar necesariamente conectado con los juegos retro o la nostalgia. Es una forma de arte bastante nueva que tenía un uso muy específico, por lo que la gente tiende a identificarla con ella, pero creo que si puedes alejarte de esa perspectiva y verla como otra forma de dibujar como lienzo o acuarela, puedes hacer lo que quieras. Naturalmente, desarrollé mi forma de usar los medios de comunicación tomando el lápiz digital en mi mano y dibujando lo que se me ocurrió. De esta manera, creo que los resultados son más frescos y personales.
¿Qué recuerdos tenés de los videojuegos?
No teníamos muchos juegos en casa, la primera experiencia que tuve con los juegos fue con la Super Nintendo que tenía mi primo, en la que jugué Super Mario All-Stars, pero aparte de eso, lamentablemente solo jugué los primeros tres Juegos de Potter para pc. En mi caso, el recuerdo que tengo de los viejos videojuegos es el deseo insatisfecho de jugarlos. A menudo miraba a otros niños que jugaban Pokémon en su gameboy y nunca podía hacerlo yo mismo. No fue hasta hace poco que me presentaron algunos juegos que revitalizaron el interés y me hicieron comprender realmente lo que me perdí. Mis favoritos personales, que me hicieron darme cuenta de cuánto puedes hacer con un montón de píxeles son Monkey Island, Loom, Pokémon, Laura Bow y Earthbound.
Matilde
Tenés algunos dibujos que hacen referencia al arte japonés más tradicional.
Lo más divertido para mí sobre la cultura japonesa es la coherencia de la tradición y el progreso, y la forma en que se fusionan. En mi arte expreso un interés muy claro en el lado tradicional, pero al mismo tiempo decidí usar un medio particularmente conectado con la historia moderna de Japón. Creo que sin darme cuenta terminé recreando lo que más admiro de esa cultura.
Y, ¿qué imágen te tomó más tiempo hacer?
Sin duda, la máscara kitsune tomó más tiempo y esfuerzo para hacer, especialmente porque quería crear algo nuevo y personal, pero que se acercaba al modelo tradicional original del que me inspiré. Como hice con las otras piezas, también quería crear un diseño que todavía fuera respetuoso con la cultura pero que expresara mi opinión personal al respecto.
Matilde
Te iba a preguntar por la cuarentena, pero ya me contaste un poco al principio.
Hace unos años, desafortunadamente, tuve una experiencia similar de aislamiento debido a condiciones de salud en las que extrañaba el contacto humano y la motivación de hacer algo. Durante la cuarentena decidí hacer todo lo posible para no caer en ese estado mental e intenté experimentar con lo que tenía a mano para mantener mi mente funcionando. Está vez aprendí pixel art, acuarelas, seguí estudiando para mis exámenes universitarios y leyendo mucho, básicamente tratando de aprender algo nuevo todos los días. Me mantuve motivada principalmente gracias al apoyo de mis amigos y seres queridos con quienes estuve en contacto todos los días y no puedo agradecerles lo suficiente.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
“Perhaps we can imagine the movement for women’s liberation as a colorful, varied patchwork of fabric: each piece of cloth distinct and textured, interconnected at specific points and diverging at others. The absence of a single face is an invitation to all women to weave their narratives into the fabric of genuine women’s liberation. It is this patchwork of cloth that we must carry through the threshold the current pandemic offers: a gateway to a possible world beyond capitalism and its fascist empires, beyond patriarchy and its ruling lords. When we cover our faces, in the tradition of MAKIBAKA and in solidarity with billions protecting each other from disease and resisting injustice, we do not retreat from the world. We equip ourselves with the tools to stitch it anew.”
“Bandanas” by Angeli Lacson
Mask play an important role during social movilizations. Why? To hide the identity? To create a collective identity? This zine is an exploration of these questions within feminisms.
In celebration of their fifth anniversary, Gantala Press (see our previous interview) would like to share with you their new coloring e-zine, Más que la cara: Women, Masks, and Protest. Featured here are brave women all over the world who draw from the strength and power of the collective in fighting for justice for their communities. This coloring zine is a collection of texts and images about women who utilize the mask in protest. Featured are the Zapatistas of Mexico, the MAKIBAKA women of the Philippines, the Guerrilla Girls of the USA, Pussy Riot of Russia, the feminists of Chile, and the face mask-wearing women in the pandemic. Send us a message if you want to access the PDF and the image files for coloring!
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
“Alike to the arrival of that alien spacecraft, the global spread of Coronavirus, or COVID-19, has brought the collapse of one of the thinnest layer of the neoliberal global project”
In The Gutenberg Galaxy (1962), Marshall McLuhan refers to an “instant interplay of cause and effect” (25) in the total structure of society as a characteristic of the interdependence of any oral society. This instant interplay of cause and effect, according to McLuhan, is an inherent feature of a village, and as an extension of what he labels as the “global village”. McLuhan, in the early 1960s, anticipated that technological innovation was going to transform the whole model of human communication to the point of shifting the entire world system from a geopolitics anchored in national divisions to a global order of constant communicative interdependence. Fifteen years before McLuhan’s theoretical approach to understanding future human communication, George Orwell’s 1984 (1949) drew a dystopian portrayal of a society controlled and shaped through the mediation of television screens. 1984 represents society as a totalitarian and communist corporation (Big Brother) that is permanently at war with external forces, and even despite that the members of this corporation only experience this “international” war through the mediation of the messages shared by the leaders on television, fear is the emotional force that weaves the actions of everyone. As it is expected from a totalitarian communist regime, there is a constant interplay of cause and effect in relation to the experience of individual fear, for an action that subverts the regime’s rigorous biopolitical guidelines brings irreversible consequences. We witness such consequences through Winston Smith’s torturing process, who ultimately has to give up his individual mental freedom in order to remain alive.
Not only relationships have to be approved beforehand by the Big Brother, but also individual transit from one place to another within the confines of the regime’s territory. Furthermore, oral expression is constantly monitored and designed to served the Big Brother’s goals. The novel ends showcasing the radical mindset and vital repression of Winston, who after experiencing various forms of torture feels obliged to accept that 2+2=5, thus defying both reason and common sense. Even though 1984’s society is not a global village in a strict sense, we already find in Orwell’s novel the elements – as if it was a piecemeal déjà vu that will add and transform elements over the coming decades – of McLuhan’s global village, highlighting the transformative role that new technologies will enact in future societies.
Radiohead’s tribute to Orwell’s 1984, a song titled “2+2=5”, while it lyrically makes allusion to the sensorial consequences of questioning the government’s authority, it also resonates as a prophecy of what humans worldwide have been instructed, if not imposed, in 2020 due to the Coronavirus pandemic: “I’ll stay home forever/where two and two always makes a five”. Colony, a television series aired between 2016-2018, takes 1984’s communist dystopian elements and translates them to the neoliberal language where – paraphrasing Radiohead – “ego (I) and consumption always makes happiness/survival”. However, as a dystopian series, Colony features a “global village” where constant technological innovations, besides serving superfluous individual needs such as shopping, are the means to monitor and coerce the biopolitical trajectories of a global oral society whose main headquarters are located in Davos, Switzerland (the place where each year a group of various political agents meet to strengthen the interests of the wealthiest of the world).
Colony narrates the end of the human world – who is constantly under the attack of alien forms of intelligence – through a middle-class American family, who are forced to militarize even their youngest daughter in order to remain alive in a global village/community/society that is constantly changing the governing rules to both adapt to alien threats and guarantee the comfort of those in power. At first, the only alien forces that we see in Colony are embodied in the police force, but as the show unravels we also see robots and ultimately an alien form of intelligent military life able to defeat the most powerful human weapons. The show final scenes portray the arrival of an alien spacecraft that only by being present unleashes a sort of global nuclear attack. That is, so to speak, the end of humanity.
Alike to the arrival of that alien spacecraft, the global spread of Coronavirus, or COVID-19, has brought the collapse of one of the thinnest layer of the neoliberal global project, that which anchors our biological nature to our planetary mission as the species that historically has claimed to be the most advanced form of life in the planet Earth. Suddenly, Chinese news from December 2019 became not only viral in media but also a biopolitical message that is reshaping global ecosystems and our understanding of our precarious human condition. Widespread social turmoil, national lockdowns and quarantines, global “stay at home” orders have taken over human lives across the globe as mandates that, according to those in power, are the direct consequence of the Coronavirus emergency. However, even a panoramic look at the configuration that human life was acquiring after the end of the Vietnam War would challenge the notion that our most crucial current global issues are due to the Coronavirus pandemic. Economic inequality, the fragility of national health systems, racial discrimination, and widespread social dissatisfaction have been present, at least, since the inception of Modernity at the global scale in the 15th century.
Both Orwell’s 1984 and Colony portray dystopian social realities in which human beings, even the best equipped to survive, surrender to unknown forces. In the case of 1984, the unknown is only visible through television screens; in Colony, the unknown materializes into non-human entities that, like Artificial Intelligence, at first seem under human control, but as these forces grasp the vulnerabilities of humans – both as individuals and members of a community – they take over the planetary reality. Moreover, in 1984, there is only one path towards survival, which is total submission to the regime’s warfare goals; in Colony, the level of individual survival is based on the social stratum of individuals as the ruling elite has launched a global neoliberal project that aims at colonizing other planets as well. Therefore, both the preservation of the neoliberal status quo and defense are the top priorities of the ruling elite, who through the use of intelligent borders administer the flow of people across the global landscape. In many ways, the current global social environment resembles Colony, with the only difference that humanity is under the attack of a biological weapon, globally called Coronavirus, which has brought health-related consequences unseen during previous pandemics.
While the global population awaits the arrival of a vaccine, we are constantly fed by scientific information and various forms of artistic contents that underline that human reality won’t be as we formerly experienced it. In addition, governments worldwide through media maneuvers have launched a propagandistic campaign pushing forward what is called “the new normalcy/normality”. Nevertheless, this “new normality” has been defined by the deepening of violence among those communities that historically have been relegated to either a submissive status – thinking in terms of Orwell’s 1984 – or a militarized yet subordinated status as it is the case of those who resist the status quo – as it happens in Colony. The killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis on May 25 brought to the global surface the fact that, despite Coronavirus and the radical changes that it has forced into our human reality, humans are indeed the worst enemy against humanity. Android gadgets and the use of media have allowed for the creation of the “instant interplay of cause and effect” that McLuhan attributed to the global village, which is to say a technological ecosystem where individuality runs the risk of vanishing among the waves of virtual reality. Meanwhile, I hope that this new age of protest, which is mobilizing youth worldwide, finds a set of maneuvers that bring an outcome that does not resemble neither 1984 or Colony, all while alien forces have already landed on the Earth under the name of Coronavirus.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
Gabba es una ilustradora, tatuadora y artesana de México que lleva el punk en la piel y a los animales callejeros en el corazón. Compartimos con ella una divertida charla sobre su trabajo y filosofía.
Denle un Follow y no duden en encargarle algún choker o harness para asistir a la próxima fiesta.
Nepantla: Querida Gabba, ¡gracias por prestarte para nuestra sección de entrevistas! Empecemos por los animales siniestros. ¿Cómo se te ocurrió retratar el mundo oscuro y perverso de nuestros animales domésticos?
Gabba: Tal vez me decidí a hacerlo porque me cautivan fácilmente. Su comportamiento, sus sonidos, sus movimientos y su expresión facial. Demuestran ser mucho más empáticos que muchos de nuestros semejantes. Cuando era niña tomaba una enciclopedia vieja de mi papá que tenía un apartado de fábulas ilustradas. Me provocaba escalofrío leer tanta crudeza de la cual entendía la mitad, pero los dibujos le daban equilibrio a esa sensación. Creo que aquellas fábulas que le inventaron voces y personalidad a estos seres son vigentes, y que estos cómics solo tratan de contar formas de crueldad y estupidez más apegada a nuestros tiempos. Bueno…también algunos aciertos. Desde hace unos diez años se visibiliza en tiempo real lo desquiciado y bizarro del comportamiento humano. Cada día resulta un poco más absurdo que el anterior. Las ideas u opiniones de las personas cambian velozmente, las veo encontrar equilibrio y después se vuelven muy complejas
N: Tenés mascotas? Podemos establecer nuevas alianzas con los animales?
G: Tengo dos perras de raza pequeña, y la forma en que son tratadas en casa difícilmente es una relación mascota y amo, y a veces humanizarlas es inevitable cuando paso demasiado tiempo con ellas. No sé si un animal pueda tener alianzas reales con seres cutres y mal intencionados como las personas (jaaaa), quizás sólo si éstos respetan su espacio y su libertad. Creo que nunca seremos lo suficientemente conscientes como para merecer una compañía tan grata como la suya.
Existe mucha información en redes para re-aprender la convivencia con ellos, condenar su explotación y sobre todo ir mucho más allá de las paredes de nuestros minúsculos hogares y nuestras caóticas y violentas ciudades para poner atención en los que sólo reclaman el espacio del que han sido despojados por proyectos progres. Hay gente buena y humilde que los cuida desinteresadamente y pues, me agrada ver como la sociedad se suma con grandes o pequeñas acciones a estas causas, pero lo que dije anteriormente viene mejor de otro tipo de persona; no puedo opinar más al respecto por la forma en que me gano la vida y mis hábitos.
N: Tu estilo tiene algo de punk old-school bien agrio. Cómo lo definirías vos? Qué te interesa mostrar o qué te inspira?
G: No me he detenido a definirlo porque me parece que lo que hago se reduce a tiras simples y dibujos rudimentarios. En el caso de la propaganda, podría definirlo como desechable…caduca la fecha del evento y se autodestruye. No tengo un objetivo, pero procuro enfocarme en dibujar ideas recurrentes cuando tengo tiempo, que muy seguro vienen de leer tanta mierda en internet desde que amanezco… desde la nota más rosa, pop e inútil, hasta la local más amarillista y sangrienta.
N: Tus cómics me parecen geniales. Estás trabajando en algo nuevo?
G: Quisiera dibujar canciones completas, muchas que me gustan y convertirlas en viñetas. Llevo poco en eso, y soy tardada dibujando, por ello es difícil concretarlo, se atraviesan algunas comisiones, de las cuales estoy muy agradecida, pero a veces me impiden darle continuidad. Llevo también algunos años en una serie de dibujos de un formato más grande y son acerca de la muerte (tema sobreexplotado en mi país, pero que me sigue motivando)
N: Además de dibujar haces chokers, harnesses y trabajo artesanal en piel (que, por cierto, están geniales). Cómo es tu día? Dividís tus tareas de modo fijo o es algo fluctuante?
G: Mi horario está invertido. Despierto casi a medio día, si hay mala suerte antes. Ahora todo va de labores domésticas, tiempo para salir a lo estrictamente necesario o cualquier pendiente que surja, no hay una rutina tan marcada. Antes del Covid-19, invertía ése tiempo para hacer entregas de mis productos por la ciudad, comprar material, visitar a mis amigos, andar en bici. Después del ajetreo era llegar a mi casa, cenar y a media noche comenzar a trabajar accesorios o dibujar aproximadamente 6 horas. Ahora el encierro me ha dado más tiempo de ocio pero no ha sido muy productivo porque sólo dan ganas de trabajar en la madrugada.
N: Cómo empezaste a tatuar?
G: Cuando salí de la universidad pasé casi ocho meses buscando empleo sin éxito. Justo la crisis laboral por la que atravesaba me hizo darle vuelta a la página y abandonar la antropología. El boom del tatuaje era entonces, herramientas a la mano y ya… de repente era yo, muy concentrada haciendo servicio a domicilio a algunas personas que quedaban satisfechas con mi trabajo y después de casi ocho años de no tocar ni un cuaderno de dibujo comencé a practicar no sólo dibujando flashes aburridos, sino lo que me gusta realmente.
N: Y cómo empezaste con lo de los chokers?
G: Mi padre, que es un artesano brillante y que admiro, me alentó a aprender el oficio. Esta vez tratándose de él, de manera muy disciplinada seguí al pie de la letra sus enseñanzas, y aún me falta mucho camino por recorrer para llegar a hacer las cosas que él hace y la calidad que logra con el mínimo de herramientas y cero máquinas que le restarían valor a su trabajo.
N: Cómo es el tema con flyers? Cómo te contactas con las bandas? Vas a muchos conciertos?
G: Comencé a frecuentar tocadas de punk local y a hacer nuevos amigos hace unos años. Muchos tenían bandas y de casualidad alguno de sus conocidos que vio mi trabajo en instagram me solicitó hacer uno muy especial y de ahí en adelante. La difusión de algunos flyers en redes y el apoyo de amigas y amigos hacia mi trabajo me trajeron comisiones que disfruté mucho. He realizado algunas comisiones para otro tipo de eventos, diseños para camisetas de algunas bandas y hasta para una casa de modas. Respecto a lo último…en realidad la vida adulta, el no tener salario y las responsabilidades no me permiten asistir a tantos eventos como quisiera.
N: Cómo estás sobrellevando el mundo viral? Hace poco entrevisté a otro artista de Ecuador (Ernesto Salazar Rodríguez) y le pregunté cómo había sido su relación con su cuerpo durante la cuarentena.
G: Ha sido mucho aprendizaje. Cosas simples como cruzar más de 5 palabras con algún vecino o tendero del barrio se convirtieron en un reto para mí. Nunca había permanecido tanto tiempo en éste perímetro. Lidiar con la personalidad de las personas que tienen miedo terrible de ser contagiados, o de manera contrastante, cruzarme con sujetos que tienen el hábito de escupir constantemente en el asfalto, han sido una prueba grande a mi paciencia, muy cretino de mi parte admitirlo, porque tuve el privilegio de aislarme debido a que no tengo necesidad de salir para poder trabajar.
Y bueno, el ritmo que llevamos en una ciudad tan grande y congestionada. Antes de salir unx se pinta tres rayas en la cara en un par de minutos para lucir presentable. Importa un pito si debes viajar en un camión donde ya no cabe ni una aguja, y comer en un puesto callejero de precios irresistibles no te detiene a pensar en una diarrea explosiva y escandalosa. Ahora con la presencia del virus, durante el confinamiento se tiene todo el tiempo para pensar en lo que no funciona a la perfección en nuestro organismo y nuestra imagen. Así que, la relación con mi cuerpo ha sido un verdadero fastidio. Quizás reclama el castigo al que fue sometido todos estos años con mis excesos.
N: La primera vez que ví tus cosas fue en Tumblr, donde tenías un blog de ilustración. Buenas épocas cuando Tumblr todavía era una plataforma más alternativa. Es loco pensar que en internet las cosas también envejecen.
G: Recuerdo que abrí mi cuenta justo en 2010 y se convirtió en un espacio microfamoso. Lo tuve al corriente muchísimo tiempo, quizás en mi afán de no abandonar mi cariño por la ilustración y mi respeto por los ilustradores. Dediqué mucho a la difusión de su trabajo importando muchísimas imágenes a esa plataforma y escribiendo créditos, y ahora cuando lo abro para seguir reblogueando, a veces me doy un pequeño golpecito de aprobación en el hombro que dice “… estuvo bien, Gabba; esto nunca fue tiempo perdido”. En éstos días lo visito y difícilmente comprendo la jerga de los usuarios y solo hay spam en mi bandeja de entrada.
Yo envejecí a la misma velocidad que Tumblr. Y por supuesto que fue tiempo perdido, pero ése casi siempre es el mejor.
N: Alguna rola o libro para recomendarnos durante el encierro?
G: Cualquier recomendación que pudiera hacer sobre un libro apestaría. Quizás de alguna canción no tanto…entonces sería ésta porque la escuche hace unos días y sentí que describía el estado de mi cuerpo y mi mente durante estos noventa días de confinamiento, es de una banda que ya no existe y el vocalista es ilustrador
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
El dualismo entre la corporalidad y lo digital huele a anticuada. Es cierto que un maniqueísmo que oponga los dos polos irreconciliablemente parece destinado al fracaso. Lo digital ya no es el terreno de lo no-real, sino una dimensión (nueva o no) de la realidad misma. Sin embargo, esta reivindicación de lo digital, muy necesaria, conlleva el peligro aledaño de reducir el cuerpo a un papel secundario. Es preciso, por el contrario, pensar cuál es el papel de lxs cuerpos y las corporalidades allí en las fronteras y los márgenes entre los dos reinos.
En su Manifiesto Cyborg (1983) Donna Haraway escribía “La frontera entre mito y herramienta, entre instrumento y concepto, entre sistemas históricos de relaciones sociales y anatomías históricas de cuerpos posibles, incluyendo a los objetos del conocimiento, es permeable. Más aún, mito y herramienta se constituyen mutuamente”. La obra de Ernesto Salazar Rodríguez es especialmente adecuada para repensar estas mito-poéticas de cuerpxs nuevxs. Ernesto Salazar Rodríguez estudió artes visuales en Quito y Buenos Aires y en los últimos diez años expuso su obra en toda clase de galerías y espacios. No sólo nos prestó sus obras para ilustrar estas reflexiones acerca de la corporalidad post-digital, sino que también se prestó amablemente a responder todas nuestras preguntas.
Además de ayudarnos a pensar sobre cuestiones referentes a las estéticas de los postdigital (selfies, glitch, modelado 3D, memes), Ernesto nos invita a cuestionarnos algo más urgente: las políticas de lo postdigital. Qué nuevas alianzas gaymers pueden surgir de la afectividad de internet? Como él mismo afirma, su obra es un tributo a lxs cosplayers, weirdos, drag queens, pieles de colores, formas diversas, voces fantásticas. Estas “oddkin”, para usar otro término de Haraway, nos indican sin duda el compost político del que las nuevas mito-corporalidades podrían tomar su fermento.
Nepantla: Querido Ernesto, antes que nada gracias por acceder a participar en la entrevista! Tu obra me parece muy interesante porque juega con dos dimensiones que a primera vista parecen contrapuestas: la del cuerpo y la de lo digital.
Ernesto Salazar Rodríguez: Hola! Muchas gracias por el espacio! Me anima mucho empezar por el aspecto que mencionas, lo contrapuesto o polarizado. Una de las motivaciones que impulsaron mi trabajo fue precisamente la premisa de ceder en una necesidad de establecer puntos fijos, para más bien permitirme pensarnos en tensión, entre lo que nuestra percepción desnuda nos puede arrojar y lo que las extensiones que nos han dado (tecnologías) nos hacen alcanzar. Puede ser mi interpretación de lo que Haraway propone como cuerpo cyborg, por tomar una fuente. Concretamente, la reciente ubicuidad de las nuevas tecnologías de información, me ha obligado a pensar al cuerpo como un concepto que sobrepasa los límites de la piel y que manifiesta su presencia cada vez de modo más complejo, en tanto los aparatos tecnológicos se afinan y nos acaparan como información multisensorial. Esta es finalmente una clara postura ‘tecnofílica’ de mi parte, pues valoro mucho lo digital, al haberme permitido encontrar espacios de encuentro y protección.
N: ¿Cómo ves la escena del arte digital en Ecuador? ¿Qué anda pasando por ahí?
ESR: Es muy rica y muy bien pensada sobre nuestro contexto glocal. Creo que la comprensión de la tecnología a nivel Latinoamericano es doblemente crítica en cuanto a estrategias de apropiación y resistencia. La producción artística en nuestro país responde con varios acercamientos frente a lo tecnológico, mis colegas se animan todo el tiempo no solamente a ver a lo digital como un medio o plataforma de difusión sino incluso en generar discusiones críticas sobre si misma y sobre alternativas a esta y que sean más acordes a nuestra cultura inmediata. En mi creciente experiencia como docente, intento detonar pequeñas chispas sobre estos cuestionamientos en clase y provocar pensamientos críticos, si bien menciono mi postura tecnofílica, esta debe ser constantemente autocrítica y reacondicionada, hacerla jugar a nuestro favor.
N: Me gustaría discutir un poco tu obra. Empecemos por “Piedra – Papel -Tijeras” (2016). El concepto de lo postdigital apunta justamente a pensar lo límites de lo digital. “Piedra – Papel -Tijeras” muestra muy bien eso, porque además de usar glitches para revelar el sustrato “físico” de lo digital, juega con tres objetos que dan una fuerte impresión de “materialidad” (que se percibe muy bien por medio de sus sonidos). ¿Cómo se te ocurrió esta obra?
ESR: Esta intervención se dio cuando revisábamos en la maestría que realicé en Buenos Aires, sobre el error en el archivo digital, entendiéndolo primordialmente como algo que se produce por fuera de nuestro alcance, por el desgaste o mal funcionamiento propios de la máquina y que el artista señala o destaca. Es una premisa muy interesante sobre las primeras intervenciones no humanas, sin embargo, quise apropiarme de estas ideas para pensar en una manera correspondida entre el humano y la máquina, algo mutuo y afectivo quizás. Al pensar en piedra, papel, tijeras nos imaginamos directamente el contacto humano, el tacto, roce de piel sobre piel, entonces pensé cómo podía jugar con la máquina, cómo intencionalmente podía irrumpir en su circuito, en su balance perfecto, jugar con ella…y lo hice a través del lenguaje. Cada video que registré debía evocar un acercamiento de mis manos con los objetos que vendrían a corresponder al juego, era yo enseñándole a la máquina lo que podía hacer a través del video. Estos videos se desmenuzaron en cada fotograma que les componía y ahí jugué con la idea del lenguaje: la palabra.
Estas imágenes (.jpg) se componen finalmente de un código escrito que la máquina reinterpreta para finalmente arrojarnos una imagen frente al monitor, podemos editar la imagen directamente, pero no le podemos escribir algo para motivarle a reaccionar. Mi acción es sencilla en realidad, pero bastante larga: Abrí cada fotograma como si fuese texto, es decir con el programa básico de edición de texto que viene en MACOS, entonces ahí le quise contar “en palabras” qué era eso que le vulneraba, que le podía cambiar. A las imágenes de tijera entonces, les inserté varias veces la palabra piedra y así con las otras dos. A lo sonoro también quise afectarle, simplemente con alternar los sonidos que cada objeto produce de manera contraria. Me gustó pensar en conclusión que era una especie de glitch inducido de modo poético.
Esta intervención se repitió en otro ejercicio titulado “EL SONIDO DEL VIENTO ME HACE SENTIR QUE EL SUELO EN EL QUE REPOSO SE DESVANECE”. Tenía un video que grabé acostado sobre el césped de un parque, en Buenos Aires. A pesar de estar lejos de Ecuador y tener la oportunidad de repensarme en el espacio, me sentía oprimido por la ciudad, por la forma de la arquitectura y las calles. Me puse a pensar en para quiénes se diseñan las ciudades y si alguien como yo estaba considerado dentro del plan, me agobia esa idea. Esa sensación estaba presente cuando estaba grabando al cielo con mi cámara, el viento se movía fuerte y el árbol encima mío… sentía que me iba a caer a pesar de estar literalmente pegado al suelo. Entonces intervine este video con el título de la obra y le quité el sonido, pues se reemplazó de algún modo con este significado afectivo de la palabra “Viento” y lo inestable, creo oportuno contar un poco de esta obra porque es un eco en mi proyecto #bodywriter
N: Tu obra además trabaja con una variedad de formatos enorme. “Fauna” (2016) es una especie de bestiario surrealista flat-art. ¿Cuál es la particularidad para vos de “pintar” en formato digital (un medio explorado ya en “Versión plausible” del 2013)?
ESR: Fauna y Versión plausible tenían la misma línea de FOB!A, pues abordan en principio, un paralelismo estructural mente-cuerpo con software-hardware de la máquina. En estos tres ejercicios quise comprender la dinámica forma-contenido, aterrizada en conceptos como el miedo, donde hay una idea que a pesar de ser de lo más inmaterial, nos puede condicionar y limitar. Lo mismo con la idea de identidad potenciada en redes sociales (para ese momento usábamos facebook y debemos tomar en cuenta que la gente debía ubicarse en un espacio específico para “entrar” y “salir” de esta página) que indagué con Versión Plausible y finalmente FAUNA, a la que me gusta llamar también Miodesopsias, que hace referencia a cuerpos que se presentan en el campo visual, como bichos que realmente no lo son. Detrás de FAUNA tenía la intención de intentar comprender nuestra obsesión por darle forma a todo lo que se nos presenta, o negarlo. Así entonces el recurso más oportuno para representar estas ideas fue el vector, pues era una herramienta digital que se prestaba para entenderse propiamente desde el computador, lo que quiero decir es que se diferencia de la pintura digital que se podría hacer con programas como Photoshop, en tanto no se presta para “simular” la realidad. El vector se manifiesta como tal, líneas, curvas y figuras que uno ingresa información digital para que sucedan, me gusta mucho el término flat art, no lo había pensado así, pero me aporta mucho, son cosas totalmente digitales y sin volumen, información digital.
N: Lo que decía al principio con el tema del cuerpo se ve sobre todo en #BODY_WRITER. ¿Cómo se te ocurrió modelarte en 3D?
ESR: Pienso que llegó un momento en el que me acerqué más a mi mismo y comprendí la fuente de mi fascinación por lo digital, como un hombre homosexual e introvertido, tuve muchos conflictos (como muchas otras personas) de sentirme cómodo en “lo físico”, desde joven fui un gaymer (creo que a mi edad aun ni existía ese término) y esas largas horas que pasaba con mi primer videojuego de rol masivo en línea, me hicieron sentir que podía vivir sin verme obligado a disimular, tenía frente a mi pantalla una versión digital de mi o más bien, de lo que aspiraba a ser. Creo que es una de las cuestiones que más me interesan del videojuego, la relación de correspondencia que nuestro cuerpo ejerce frente a la posibilidad de idealización con estas formas cada vez más complejas de manifestaciones de identidad, y que, como expliqué en un inicio, involucran de manera más eficaz a nuestros sentidos. #bodywriter tiene muchos acercamientos, el que me gustaría contarles ahora, es la idea de un tributo a ese espacio: fluido, diverso, democrático quizás, que el videojuego me dio. En el ejercicio de medirme a mí mismo era consciente de que, desde niño, la gente se encargó metódicamente de medirme con sus criterios, cómo caminaba, como era mi espalda, mi cabello, que tan niño (hombre) era o no, fue un acto de amor propio. Medirme y traspasar esa información de modo poético, para reafirmarme negándome, en un vaivén: Un cuerpo que no se presenta como cuerpo físico y que en lo digital, se presenta o manifiesta su forma de manera empoderada, posibilitado por la tecnología ubicua de la información. Este proyecto habita una cuenta Instagram, que se presta para jugar, con tus propias reglas.
Es un proyecto donde puse mucho de mi: no sabía nada de modelado en 3D, apenas había experimentado con volumen (escultura) y me enfrenté en detalle a mi cuerpo como masa a replicarse, en un ejercicio de acercamiento y lejanía, me dispuse como un instrumento. Pero tenía muy claro que cada dispositivo tecnológico en el que se empezaría la obra, debía ser un fuerte significante, un propiciador. En ese aspecto quería paralelamente comentar a través del proyecto sobre Instagram, la selfie, el filtro de rostro, la realidad aumentada, la realidad virtual, la impresión 3D, la pantalla, la app de citas, el vibrador sexual, la idealización de la vida, en fin.
N: ¿Qué comentarios recibiste sobre la obra?
ESR: Alguien me dijo: refrescante, jaja.
Quiero pensar que sensibilizó algo que se puede pensar muy frío o superficial, fíjate que las redes sociales tienen muchos usos, entre esos, modos de control y vigilancia y también facilitador de famas cómodas y fáciles. Pero hay mucho más: personas que se visibilizan, gente extraordinaria, era un tributo a esas personas, cosplayers, weirdos, drag queens, pieles de colores, formas diversas, voces fantásticas. Cuando presenté una de las piezas en la Galería NoLugar, aquí en Quito con otros dos artistas, nació la idea de nombrar a la muestra SF de Ficción Especulativa, me sentí muy a gusto con el término, que aportó nuestra colega expositora y me hizo pensar mucho en mi función como artista para propiciar espacios nuevos de relaciones, de tactos. #bodywriter habla mucho sobre el tacto que das a la pantalla y que se manifiesta en el otro, desde algo tan simple como una vibración a su teléfono: un latido de corazón o un impulso más adentro, al afecto y el deseo transmitidos.
N: La idea de selfie a priori despierta una actitud de desconfianza. Se dice que la selfie es narcisismo. Pero la selfie, como bien mostrás puede ser además un medio de expresión disruptivo. ¿Cómo se subvierte ese imperativo de internet de “exponete”, “vendete”?
ESR: Si, en ese aspecto soy muy sensato, somos super narcisistas, de algún modo. Si no es por tu rostro es por lo que haces o lo que tienes, mostramos “eso” para sentirnos mejor. Un día visité el Centro Cultural Kirchner en Buenos Aires, había una obra que lastimosamente no recuerdo su autor, era una pancarta grande con un texto que decía “Estamos condenados al éxito” creo que lo dijo un ex-presidente argentino, debería rastrear el origen :), en definitiva la red social nos facilita eso que de por sí queremos hacer, recibir elogios, sin embargo las cosas son diferentes para el oprimido, son espacios para (re)nacer en ambientes seguros, con plataformas sin trabas, con filtros (pantallas) que hacen de muros contenedores, son estrategias y posturas políticas de reafirmación, en ambientes soberanos, si se juega bien.
N: ¿Tenemos que tener miedo de volvernos memes?
ESR: Meme en cuanto a un mensaje o síntesis cultural que se disemina o viraliza, para nada. Hay que saber cómo volverse meme y romper estructuras con el mensaje.
N: En ese sentido, te pregunto en general, ¿cómo funciona para vos la relación de lo digital con lo analógico? ¿Es una oposición ya superada o tiene sentido seguir pensándola?
ESR: No es una situación superada y creo que no estamos del todo en la capacidad de decidir si pensarla o no. Está, aquí en el presente. Nos interviene de modo directo e indirecto, es ingenuo despreciar este momento, más bien, desde el arte debemos fomentar un uso soberano/propio de la tecnología, exigir el acceso y alcance de todos sobre el mismo, devorarlo y reapropiarnos de este, para que funcione bajo nuestras reglas, un poco así como #bodywriter: un cuerpo que se reafirma bajo sus propios términos de medición.
N: Cuál fue la relación con tu cuerpo durante la cuarentena?
ESR: Extraña, difícil. Con lo que he comentado, sabrás intuir que tiendo a encerrarme, viví mucha parte de mi vida evadiendo lo de afuera y cuando mi obra al fin me llevó a hacer las paces o más bien a situarme reafirmado con mi cuerpo, vino el encierro y aquí estoy. El trabajo en la docencia me tiene muy ocupado así que pocas veces me doy cuenta de mi mismo. Con mi cuerpo es así también, con el proyecto #bodywriter ahora me gusto, me gusto mucho jaja, soy consciente de mis fallas y aciertos desde la piel y hacia adentro, y trabajo a partir de estas. Es algo bueno porque este proyecto me obligó a ser autorreferencial, sin embargo quiero hacer un proyecto donde destaque la forma de los cuerpos para formar una nación o un territorio de la suma creciente de todos nosotros, espero tener un poco de tiempo para concretar esa difusa premisa.
N: ¿Y en qué estás trabajando ahora?
ESR: Creo que en la pregunta anterior me adelanté un poco, quiero volver a pensar sobre lo colectivo, otra vez. Mi tesis de maestría se fue por ahí: cómo conectar con lo esencial a otros, a través de internet, con una especie de acto poético de lanzar un mensaje embotellado al mar. Esta vez quiero sumarnos, una masa creciente y cambiante que se piense territorio, con leyes mutantes.
Por otro lado la pandemia me hizo trabajar en una nueva pieza de #bodywriter, una especie de performance transmitido en vivo por instagram, donde recitaba un deseo de ser tocado y tocar de vuelta desde lo remoto, que por ahora baste con deslizar el dedo sobre la pantalla para poder reaccionar. Saber que estamos ahí. Había dado por cerrado a #bodywriter, pero con estas circunstancias, siento que toma otros valores o que más bien, hay cosas que exploré con este proyecto que ahora se están enfatizando.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
Saki Tominaga is a Japanese painter, hairstylist and make-up artist. We wanted to learn more about her awesome art, so we asked her to do a short interview with us.
Follow her in instagram:
Nepantla: Hi! You’re a hairstylist, make-up artist and also visual artist. How do you combine those different activities?
Saki: The purpose is not to combine them, but just to make art. Whatever the form, if the situation and feeling at that moment and the movement of the hand match, I can come out with something.
N: How did you start making art?
S: I’ve been drawing only girls since I was little. I was painting every day, but when l was a junior high school student, l started going to an art school. I majored in oil painting until high school and 1st year in college, and then majored in printmaking.
N: Your art deals with inorganic forms: water, stones, dry flowers. Why are you interested in that?
S: l think that now it is time to revisit nature. In my work human beings are represented as natural beings. Beautiful things are born from nature, also human beings. l also think that ideas come from visual information. My work is made of wildflowers and grass. But wild grasses are discarded if they grow too much. There is a green that no one can see. Instead of disregarding those leafes I like to use them to my make-up and showing myself a little more pretty. It’s done to satisfy others, but also to satisfy myself.
N: How did the virus affect your activity?
S: l was able to face myself. To be honest, I think l have discovered new aspects of my work thanks to the virus. I wouldn’t have noticed wild grass if l just worked as usual.
N: What are your nexts projects?
S: l have not decided yet. It’s still about making beautiful things.
N: What artist inspires you? Do you want to recommend some book/song/artist?
S: One person I respect is Katsuya Kamo. I especially like the sound of hang drums. I would therefore recommend Hang Massive’s MV.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
What is the place of art? Let me say that art has no place, it has no definite space, but creeps in the spaces in between fixed realities. This is what I have discovered in Jonathan Avinash Victor’s art. His art seems a continuous transition, a journey between sketch and final product, between lines and broken figures, between color and non-color. In between this non-determinacies pockets of meaning appear that both accentuate the discontinuity between the various lines and non-lines as well as bring them all together. These flowing lines intertwined around exploding pockets of meaning are surprisingly simplistic, they do not overstrain the overall structure but invite us to float with them in between forms. This makes Avinash’ art very attractive, giving the nepantla state a peaceful, creative, pleasurable dimension in contrast to the angst of indeterminacy described by Emilio Uranga regarding the same state.
Follow Jonathan on Instagram to see more of his art
I have had the pleasure of chatting with Jonathan Avinash Victor about his art. Here are the questions he was kind enough to answer.
FN: Dear Jonathan, thank you for this opportunity to explore the space of art together. Could you tell us more about yourself and your art concept in general?
JAV: In terms of my foray into the artworld, I have been collecting art for over 10 years. This led me to have many discussions and meetings with artists. One of them, Jeganathan Ramachandram, really saw something in me and urged me to try my hand at being an artist. He claimed that thus far, I had used art collecting as a means of expressing my love of art but that really, I was an artist. It’s only that the idea had never occurred to me before. I then decided to apprentice under him from March 2019 until sometime in December 2019. These art classes were more philosophical than traditional. Most classes were merely conversations in art, religion, life and many other subjects. These were then used as my inspiration to draw and paint. I enjoyed this method of apprenticeship, although it is a very much slower way of learning art, and obviously isn’t everyones cup of tea.
My art concept seems to center around my fascination of how the human mind works. I use the phrase “seems to” because when I first started drawing, I didn’t define it as such. The pattern started emerging in my art and I then linked it back to my fascination in understanding this thing we called our mind. One of the most recurring images in my art is the human face. I use it as a way of expressing and exploring emotions/thoughts which I feel the English language (or at least my grasp of it) is inadequate of doing. It isn’t so important to me to give definition to these emotions or the reasons behind a certain state of mind but more to just describe it in my art and leave it up to the viewer to form her/his own opinion. Sometimes I do tell a fixed story with clearly defined emotive conclusions through a particular drawing. But the human experience is so varied that I am sure even these can be interpreted in many ways by the viewer. At the end of the day, I’m really interested in creating art that gives the viewer (and myself) a language or aid in expressing and perhaps understanding her/his own emotions and thoughts.
FN: You mentioned in our short chat, that nepantla feels close to your art. Could you tell us more about that?
JAV: Before coming across Forum Nepantla’s Instagram page I wasn’t aware of the word nepantla. Reading your website and then doing subsequent research really made me feel that it resonated with me as an artist and human. The in-between states of being an artist or human take on a more beautiful meaning with nepantla. It is an acceptance of the journey between A-B. It is a recognition that in as much as the destination is important, it is the journey (the in between space) that defines, teaches and ultimately molds one. In between-ness is something to be cherished and enjoyed. An example I had mentioned in my short chat with you was questions I get asked often as an artist, “why not use colour? why not try paints? Why not acrylics on canvas?” These are well meaning questions, I admit. Still, for me what is more important is to be comfortable with the in-between-ness, the nepantla. This does not mean one will stay in this space indefinitely or be happy with neither being here nor there but an acknowledgement of the process of being in-between. Another example is how my wife and I live and work between Malaysia and Singapore. Many times, we feel stretched or torn between juggling various elements such as career, money, family and our relationship. It definitely is a state of nepantla! We do try to feel comfortable with this in-between state as much as it is difficult.
FN: Do you think art has a specific space? Or does art create new spaces? Or is it spaceless so to say?
JAV: This is how it think of art in relation to space. Art originates from the mind of humans, as a thought impulse brought to life in many different forms, be it visual arts, or performing arts or something else. Thus, it already took up a certain indeterminate space in the mind, its subsequent expression gave it a physicality. Art then is really a thought impulse finding its physical space. In that sense, I do think it finds a space to exist every time it comes into being in terms of its physicality. In that sense art almost has to find a space to exist in fixed reality. The art produced is definitely influenced by the particular space the artist is in, and that’s why we see a certain geography or society produces a certain type of art. Still with the internet and travel being so cheap this seems to be a boundary that will constantly erode. In as much as art finds a space to exist in reality, in the first place, reality itself has such a big influence on the thoughts of an artist and thus her/his art.
FN: What is your personal creative process?
JAV: I usually get sparks of ideas from pictures (Instagram), movies and the people around me. I am constantly watching faces. I then start thinking about some emotion or a cocktail of emotions that they are feeling and try to mirror that in my mind. Because there are so many impulses in any given day, a particular work of art is usually an amalgamation of these impulses rather than one particular observation. Though, sometimes, it is. I just let these ideas brew in my mind. After this, the process gets a little less defined. When I pick up my pen or pencil to draw, I trust that something of these thoughts will guide me. I then start with just a line and see where it takes me. Usually, after the first few minutes the ideas start solidifying and images start appearing. Once I get hooked onto a certain concept for that piece, I make a more conscious effort to define the work. I do think this creative process has its limitations especially when it comes to painting big pieces of art. More deliberate planning will have to come into play, especially with the images I want to create.
FN: Who are your greatest influences?
JAV: If I had to pick one artist that I have researched and draw a lot of inspiration from it is Picasso. He went through many phases in his art life, wasn’t afraid of experimenting, constantly pushed his own personal boundaries. Clearly, he was very comfortable with nepantla because his phases sometimes lasted years. My art guru, Jeganathan, has also really shaped how I think about my art journey. He always allows me to venture at my own pace while constantly getting me to improve my skill as an artist. One really needs the skill of drawing and painting properly to express the complex ideas that come.
FN: Do you have any specific projects that you are working on?
JAV: Somewhere in September 2019, together with my art guru I came up with the idea of creating 100 small (A5 and A4) size pen drawings since it looked like I just had so many ideas flowing when it came to this method. Painting or drawing with colour felt harder for me and I just wasn’t getting the flow to produce. I think it will take a lot more practice and then the flow will come. I have already hit the 100 mark, in no small part because am currently in lockdown known as “circuit breaker” in Singapore. I would really like to have an exhibition of these drawings in an art space in Singapore or Malaysia but with the Covid-19 situation things are in flux. In terms of artistic expression, I want to start painting with acrylic (on canvas) rather than just focusing on ink and paper.
FN: Thank you. Would you have any other points important for you that you wish to share with us?
JAV: Circling back our discussion of art and the concept of nepantla I would like to say to anyone reading this, enjoy the in-between-ness of life. This is opposed to angst, unhappiness or anxiety often felt by us when we are in an in-between space.
FN: Thank you a lot for this wonderful interview. I hope to see more of your art in the future.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
Berlín, verano del 2016. En la última casa perdida en tierra de nadie, detrás de la nueva estación ferroviaria Nola, Katja y Martina comparten su vivienda y conforman una pequeña comuna de artistas. Pero se les acaba el tiempo, ya que pronto se edificará en este lugar el emprendimiento de desarrollo urbano Europacity. Las jóvenes mujeres pasan los últimos días en su departamento siguiendo su modesto estilo de vida, hasta que Nola decide hacer una película para indagar sobre este cambio de era. Puesta en escena como ensayo teatral discursivo, El largo verano de la teoría aborda un gran número de cuestiones en torno al feminismo, al espacio público, a la gentrificación, a la teoría y la práctica.
El largo verano de la teoría sigue el día a día de Martina (una fotógrafa), Katja (una actriz) y Nola, la más jóven del grupo, que se dedica a entrevistar personas para su película. Como otras películas de la productora de Heinz Emigholz Filmgalerie 451, El largo verano es bastante pretenciosa. A pesar de eso, en comparación con otras películas pretenciosas, es jovial y llevadera. En parte debido a que dura solo 82 minutos y en parte porque sus diálogos son ingeniosos y entrevista a diferentes pensadorxs de la vida real que viven en Berlín.
Las entrevistas resultan interesantes, así como el hecho de que las entrevistas completas puedan verse en la página de Filmgalerie 451. Esto nos hace preguntarnos si las entrevistas forman parte de la película, o la película es un anexo de las entrevistas. Lxs entrevistadxs incluyen a : Jutta Allmendinger, Rahel Jaeggi, Lilly Lent, Andrea Trumann, Carl Hegemann y Philipp Felsch. Éste último, por cierto, es el autor del libro homónimo Der lange Sommer der Theorie, el nombre con el que se refiere al período de revueltas entre 1960 y 1990.
“Theorie ist selber eine Praxis”. Uno de los temas que discute Felsch con Nola en su charla es el rol de la lectura y la escritura en las universidades, donde Felsch remarca que el nuevo enfásis puesto en la escritura (publish or perish, etc). En este sentido, la película misma tematiza el problema de la teoría y la praxis. Ahora bien, muchas veces el exceso de teoría lleva a consecuencias poco felices como es la ironía fílmica. La ironía fílmica nos lleva a reflexionar sobre todo. Todo es una parodía, todo enunciado debe entenderse como incluyendo su opuesto. El film tematiza la teoría, tematiza el tematizar la teoría. El exceso de “meta-niveles” crea un entramado opaco que termina opacando todo pensamiento crítico. En los 70 el cine-teoría no era una rareza, pero la teoría era asumida como teoría y no como meta-teoría. Pasolini es teórico pero no es irónico. Incluso Godard, a pesar de ser un teórico, sabía cuando dejar paso a la imagen.
Si estamos en el invierno de la teoría es porque nos cuesta comprometernos con una teoría del cine. La película de Irene von Alberti habla constantemente de la necesidad de una revolución. Lo pone sobre todo en boca de Nola, la jóven idealista. Así, pareciera que intenta utilizar el cliché una vez más en busca de ironía. En vez de asumir ella misma el lenguaje de la revolución, lo pone en boca de la jóven idealista.
Es cierto que la película da lugar a las voces de lxs pensadorxs y ese gesto intenta tomar en serio la teoría. El problema es que que la escenificación transforma a esa meta-teorización en ironía. Quizás esxs filósofxs deberían ser personajes dentro de la película, en lugar de elementos externos. Es la ficción, pues, la que podría salvar a la teoría.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
The French artist, Camille Claudel, was born the 8th December 1864 in Fére-en-Tardenois.
At an early age, Camille was interested in sculpture. Before she turned 18 years old, her family moved to Paris, where she visited courses in the Academie Colarossi and established her own atelier together with two other young female sculptors. The sculptor Alfred Boucher (1850-1934) visited their Atelier and provided advice to their works once a week.[1]
Later in 1883, Claudel had the possibility to study with Auguste Rodin, and shortly after, she began working in Rodin’s Atelier. They worked together for several years and kept a romantic relationship.
In Claudel’s works, a special skillfulness and exploration of the material as well as a unique style exploration are visible. There have been lots of discussions about the influence of Rodin in her work and vice versa. Camille confronted recurrent comparisons with Rodin during her art career.[2]
“During Camille Claudel’s lifetime, she pursued a career that was largely defined in terms of Auguste Rodin. This perspective of her work may be seen most notably in the reactions to her sculpture L’Âge Mûr. This work was interpreted as an allegory of two women’s struggle for one man – the artist Rodin.” [3]
The interpretations of Camille Claudel’s pieces have frequently been biographical. Paul Claudel, a poet, and her diplomat brother established this tradition of understanding Claudel’s art pieces as a visual representation of every stage and event of her life, above all about her romantic relationship with Rodin. Years after Camille’s death, Paul Claudel published an article for an exhibition catalog at the Musée Rodin, describing and interpreting her works merely with a biographical approach.[4]
Intending to find an economical and artistic independence, and most importantly, to distance her work from Rodin’s influence in order to gain her own artistic recognition, Camille aimed to develop her own artistic style totally different from Rodin. In search of an artistic independence, Camille created several pieces where her artistic pursuit began to be visible.
Here it is important to remark as well the artistic environment that surrounded Camille Claudel, namely Paris the international cultural center at that time. The Royal Academies of Art were well established in Europe and represented the most significant professional art societies. The art academies established an important artistic tradition. Besides the artistic instruction, they held the annual or semi-annual exhibitions. The Academies were places to display and show to the critics the artist’s works.[5]
“However, by the mid-nineteenth century, academies across Europe were undercut by what would later be seen as avant-garde movements. Some artists sought change from within, exhibiting their radical works at these official venues.”[6]
Consequently, this means that the artistic environment that surrounded Claudel was rich in variety and, most importantly, inspired by challenging the academic dominance of the art sphere.
Claudel’s art-piece Clotho, a plaster, and later marble female sculpture, which is the main focus of this article, was probably the beginning of Claudel’s own artistic style exploration,[7] doubtlessly influenced as well by the academic and nonacademic artistic environment at the moment.
Camille Claudel’s Clotho
In 1893 an older woman who worked as a model in Rodin’s atelier posed for Claudel for the creation of Clotho.[8]
Camille, Claudel: Clotho, 1893, plaster, 90 x 49.3 x 43 cm, Musée Rodin, Paris.
Camille Claudel named her sculpture after Clotho, one of the three Fates from Greek mythology; the goddesses in charge of threading the destiny, a topic to which I will refer back later.
The drafts of the torso figure are exhibited in Musée d’Orsay. The plaster version of Clotho was exhibited at the Salon of 1893 and is nowadays kept in the Musée Rodin
The final marble piece was completed in 1897; however, its whereabouts are unknown.
“Through Clotho, Claudel is able to show the viewer once again that, though she may be working from similar themes as Rodin and his other assistants, she still has the creativity and skill to create an individual work of art. Not only did she create a sculpture that called upon classic literature, but she also found technical inspiration in Rodin’s studio – and possibly even Art Nouveau – in one work of art.”[9]
Claudel’s sculpture portrays an old naked woman standing over a roughed textured basis. She is thin, almost skeletal, with visible traces of the aging body. Her posture is slightly leaning to a side with her head and neck much more inclined like bearing the weight of her voluminous hair.
Clotho’s posture is evoking a flowing movement. Her arms are positioned in an intent to counterbalance the weight of the head, her separated and slightly bended knees in conjunction with the one arm holding her hair. She looks like she is about to take a step or that she is standing and “captured” in a moment of free and dynamic movement.
Her face with prominent cheekbones is half-covered by the hair. The rendering of the neck, breast, and stomach show baggy flesh by age, which allows the ribs to be visible through the loose skin.
The voluminous top part of the sculpture, the figure’s hair has a strong, heavy rendering. The texture is rough and split into thick parts, like thread or roots. The voluminous and roughed textured hair has different sizes, it is tangled at the level of the back and neck and comes down tangling up on her arms and legs. The sinuous shape of the hair falls down to her ankle, rounding her left leg. All the parts that formed the voluminous hair are eventually divided into just two thick sections, which are rooted in the basis.
Despite the volume and length of the hair, it has no weightless mobility. Instead, it twirls and has a similar structure of wet, thick hair or tree roots. Her right arm is holding her head and hair, and the left one is stretched out with a section of hair over the hand. Her tilted head reveals a deep look in her eyes and her mouth sketches a grimace.
“Clotho’sspindly hair, for example, speaks to the sinuous lines that were so revered in Art Nouveau.”[10]
It is clearly visible that Claudel’s figure does not follow the classical academic ideal standards closely. Though the old Clotho from Camille Claudel is a full-body standing figure, its posture is not following an academic pose. The sculpture’s posture has seemingly an engaged leg carrying most of the weight and a free leg that enhances the perception of a walking movement, which portrays Clotho as if she is about to step, or walk, like a contrapposto. But Clotho is not portraying the gracefulness and elegance of ancient antique figures. Instead, her posture seems to be purposely unbalanced by the weight of the hair, which forces the figure to break the elegant academic body position.[11]
Claudel didn’t portray the Fate goddess following the ancient Greek tradition with the folding garments, nor is she depicting it as a beautiful woman, which would follow the academic ideals. However, despite all the aforementioned, it seems she is not either desisting entirely of these standards. Claudel is indeed depicting an antique Roman-Greek motif, namely a myth, and here might be highlighted as well that Clothohas a powerful theatrical posture, she seems to be emerging from somewhere, heading forwards.
The Fates myth
The Moirai or Parcae in the Greek Mythology also commonly known as Fates, were three sister deities named: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. The description of the three goddesses appears first in Hesiod’s epic poem the Theogony (ca. 700 B.C.E.).
Hesiod presents the three fates as the daughters of Zeus and Themis. The goddesses personified the destiny and life: they were in charge of spinning “the thread of a mortal’s life at birth and thus determined his destiny.”[12]
Every goddess had a specific task and a special attribute that distinguish her: Clotho being the youngest, is presented as “the Spinner.” Clotho held the distaff to spin the thread of life and therefore was the one who decided birth; Lachesis “the Apportioner” measured the length of the thread and spun out the course of life; and Atropos the eldest sister, “the inflexible” had the task to cut off the thread which turned her in the Fate of death.[13]
Thomas Blisniewski, explains in his book „Kinder der dunkelen Nacht “(1992), that the Fate sisters determine not only the duration of life but the quality of it as well. Blisniewski describes how in various myths, the thread had a specific color and structure that could bespeak for the quality of life; for example, a strong thread predicted happiness and good luck while a black thread bad luck.[14]
The three Fates represented the supreme arbitresses of humanity’s fate, and they often appear together in many classical traditions. The artistic representations of the three sisters have some variations according to the time as well. Nevertheless, in most of the depictions, they are represented as a group and carry their attributes, which have made them identifiable.
Fig.: Peter Paul Rubens: The destiny from Marie de Medici, 1621-1625, 394 x 155 cm, Oil on canvas, Paris, Musée du Louvre.
Depicting the three sisters together, as aforementioned, completed the allegory of fate portraying the three stages of life and symbolized by the attributes and the task of each one of the goddesses. This means that the three sisters together summarized the human existence.
Claudel’s Clotho
It is undoubtful that the representation of the Fates has not been static over the years but, despite the changes, their attributes (distaff, scissors, and the measure of the thread) were usually the elements that allow the spectator to understand the allegory.[15]
Some artworks depicted the Three Fates as youthful and graceful women, representing the goddesses of fate in the strict sense of the term, reinforcing the idea of the goddesses in charge of the construction of the path of life, from birth to death. In the depictions in which the goddesses appeared like three old and ugly women, Goya’s painting Atropos or the Fates (1820-1823)serves here as an example, the motif of the Fates is directly related to death. They represent an allegory of the duration of life, threading the path of life to an end.
Francisco, de Goya: Las parcas, 1820-23, oil on canvas, Museo del Prado, Madrid.
There are interesting comparisons to be analyzed between the tradition of the Fate Clotho and the depiction of Camille Claudel’s figure. Clotho is normally the fate in charge of the beginning of life. Camille Claudel’s Clotho however is depicted as an old, nearly skeletal woman, with all the traces of an aged body. She doesn’t carry the distaff, nor is she depicted doing her task as the “Spinner.”
The connection of Camille’s Clotho with the myth, besides the name of the art piece, might be the rendering of the hair. In Claudel’s figure, the strands of hair are thick with a rough texture, which could evoke to the texture of a thread.[16]
Determined by her biography and her own artistic development, it is known that Camille Claudel had knowledge of classic mythology not only because of her earlier works and studies but thanks to her father´s book collection, too[17].
Nevertheless, Claudel’s Clotho is represented separated from her sisters Atropos and Lachesis and depicted without the traditional attributes. Claudel’s aged figure with her impressive heavy thread-like hair portrays a woman whose hair/thread has grown rampantly and begins to entangle itself. In this figure, Claudel seems to have depicted the goddess like a Clotho who is tied in her own hair, in her own life thread.[18]
Despite this and the fragile thinness of the sculpture, it does not show a dying or shamed woman, she looks strangely empowered by her hair and standing pose.[19]
This feature can be described in connection to the depiction of Venus by William-Adolphe Bouguereau.
Venus description in relation to Clotho
Bouguereau’s oil academic painting The Birth of Venus (1879) was exhibited in the Paris Salon from 1879. It won the Prix de Rome as well and was bought by the Musée du Luxembourg in Paris where it was exhibited until 1920. Nowadays, The Birth of Venus is exhibited in Musée d´Orsay in Paris. The art-piece represents an exemplification of the academic art of that time[20], the rendering of Venus follows the example set by the classic tradition and Bouguereau portrays Venus with a dynamic elegant contrapposto, which enhances movement and displays an idealized Venus.
Adolphe William, Bouguereau: The Birth of Venus, 1879, 300x 215 cm, oil on canvas, Musée d’Orsay, Paris.
Venus (or her Greek counterpart Aphrodite) is associated with love and feminine beauty and has been a popular subject in art since ancient times[21].
On the one hand, Hesiod describes that Aphrodite/Venus was born out of sea foam after Crono emasculated Uranos and his blood dropped into the sea. Venus stepped on a scallop shell ashore. On the other hand, according to Homer, Venus was the daughter of Dione and Zeus.
“The Greeks explained her name as deriving from aphros, or “foam,” seemingly concurring with Hesiod in respect of her origin, though this is not a “traditional” Olympian origin, as it would make her more ancient and therefore more essential than Zeus.” [22]
The myth presents Venus as a docile female principle related to water and in charge of providing balance to life. Venus balances the opposite tempers, connecting the male and female.[23]
Venus was usually depicted naked or partially naked. The goddess’ attributes are among others: the swan, the pomegranate, the dove, Myrtle, and sparrows were sacred to her. It is believed that the goddess of love renews her virginity periodically in the sea at Paphos[24].
She is usually depicted as a beautiful, docile, but simultaneously extremely powerful woman. All this, considering what Hesiod mentions in Theogony that her very birth resulted from the castration of Uranos,
“Venus, goddess of love, has provided the perfect subject through which twentieth-century artists have expressed their association of humanistic and aesthetic ideals with a woman. Because she has represented the standard of beauty through the centuries, Venus has lent herself to historicizing more than any other mythical figure, and artists wanting to comment on earlier art are likely to turn to her.”[25]
In association with the tradition of the depiction of Venus, the mythological scene from Bouguereau shows the naked Venus standing in the center of the image, she has just been born and stands on her sea-shell. Various other characters are gathered around her with admiration in their gaze. The brushstrokes are so soft, they are not visible, and the rendering of the characters has a porcelain-alike finish. The application of light helps to increase the importance of the goddess, and soft highlights are visible all over the right side of her body and hair. Though the treatment of the flesh colors is relatively similar in all the female characters of the painting, Venus stands out with her warm-pink undertone.
Venus is elegantly standing while she raises her arms, and both of her hands are holding several hair strands, it seems like she is arranging her hair. Venus’s head is tilted to a side. Her face is slightly covered by her left arm, and she seems to be looking downwards. The expression in her face bespeaks serenity and a solemn look. The goddess’ hair is striking and captures special attention, her hair is long and reaches her thighs. The depiction of her locks is carefully rendered; they look thick and voluminous. At the tips of the hair, we find it divided into several wavy hair strands.
Though she is accompanied by several creatures, her position is not only highlighted by the composition of the image, which places her in the middle occupying more than half of the space, but also, most importantly for this paper, her relevance is portrayed through her elegant, sensual posture, which presents a soft contrapposto.
Comparison Venus with Clotho
Interestingly, there are some formal similarities between the Venus by Bouguereau and Clotho by Camille Claudel as well as extreme differences that could help us better understand Claudel’s Clotho.
Observing the figure of Venus in Bouguereau’s painting in relation to Claudel’s Clotho, we find the depiction of two naked women, who are standing on a base. Both, Venus and Clotho have long, voluminous and heavy hair and a comparable rendering of it, being in both sculptures the most remarkable element. Clotho’s hair presents a thick texture. Claudel’s Clotho could represent an aged version of Venus. The posture of both images is similar as well, and above all, the placing of their arms holding the hair.
The standing pose of the women is similar. Both are depicted leaning slightly to one side. On the one hand Venus shows an elegant contrapposto, and on the other hand Clotho has a naturalistic standing pose; she seems to be in motion. On both figures, the weight of the body is placed on the left leg, though Clotho seems to be losing her balance because of the fragility and the weight of her thick, heavy entangled hair.
Clotho is standing over a rough-textured base. The base is essentially shapeless and has a non-finito rendering. As such, much like the shapeless depiction of Clotho, the shapeless representation of the base can be seen as the sea-shell that transports Venus to shore.
Clotho is portrayed presenting a dichotomy of a fragile, withered woman while simultaneously looking sort of empowered by her hair. Her body looks fragile, but she looks undoubtedly powerful.
Finally, it is clear that Claudel’s Clotho representation is not portraying or following in a precise manner the tradition of the voluminous, young beautiful female nude we find in Bouguereau’s Venus. Nonetheless, as mentioned before, along with this comparison, we’ve observed that Camille Claudel might have depicted her Clotho as a Venus. In the formal language, we’ve already found some similarities. Now it is important to try to understand the reason of why Claudel might have used both traditions for her sculpture, to portray a Clotho that resembles an aged, withered Venus and a Venus that is lacking beauty, youthfulness and being alone.
What does it mean that Claudel presents Clotho like Venus?
Up to this point I’ve analyzed that Camille Claudel’s figure oscillates between the Venus and the Fates tradition. Despite them being considered as opposite, it is exactly this dichotomy that enriches the figure’s discourse. Considering this interpretation, it is proper to wonder: why would Camille present Clotho as Venus and Venus as Clotho? Why did she borrow features of both traditions for her figure? It is also important to consider that despite this oscillation in-between traditions, Camille guides the interpretation, providing the figure a specific name, which leads to a certain lecture of the sculpture.
Claudel created a figure, that implies the conjunction of opposites. In other words, Clotho seems to sway between the personification of an academic Venus (Like Bouguereous) and an anti-academic Clotho. Maybe, the representation of an aged, ugly Venus or an empowered portrayal of destiny, birth and death.
Apparently, Clotho is portraying a visual representation of an agreement/relationship/conjunction between opposites “or the simultaneous unity of past, present, and future”. [26]Here, it could also be mentioned that certainly the birth and death are interpretations closely linked to Venus and Clotho, and of course, despite being totally opposite, both are featured in Claudel’s sculpture
This concern about destiny and life was a recurrent theme in Camille’s oeuvre, for instance, the figure of The wave, where three naked women are portrayed awaiting with impatience the arrival of a big violent wave.
These pieces reflect Claudel’s own style and her seek for her own representation and “understanding of life, love, destiny, death, and God.” [27]
We might understand the presentation of Clotho as an old Venus and the involvement of the traditions as a deeper reflection of life, which Claudel was perhaps interested in showing.[28]
Taking into account that Claudel’s Clotho involves a reflection of life, like mentioned by Angelo Caranfa “a sculpture that contains the simultaneous unity of signs or gestures and silence, time and eternity, a sculpture that articulates the human condition in its transit between birth and death,”[29] all previously mentioned artistic motifs make sense, and show how destiny, the transition of life, the deep and even silent observation of all of this[30], appears not only in Clotho but in many of Claudel’s sculptures. Clotho’s connection to Venus finally has to lead us to understand this duality presented in just one sculpture better and guided us to inquire deeper in Claudel’s art process.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
Every week Amanda Vox documents life in lockdown/quarantine via collages. A collage seems most appropiate to depict such a multi-facetted phenomenon, as it combines images, faces, elements that normally don’t belong toegether, but nevertheless intertwine in a meaningful visual experience. A collage has the advantage of being able to portray how the life of one thing gets interrupted and at the same time completed by other, unexpected things. Such a descriptive logic fits well with the everyday experience and confusion of self-isolation, that paradoxically connects us to a global pandemia, to an indefinite and indeterminate event seeping in every corner of our lives.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
Plusieurs films de René Laloux s’inscrivent dans une lignée qui met en scène un enfant-orphelin plongé dans une aventure extraordinaire. Figure récurrente dans la littérature de science fiction, dont ce réalisateur s’est inspiré pour créer ses scenarios, elle occupe une place centrale dans ses deux premiers long-métrages, La Planète sauvage (1973) et Les Maitres du Temps (1981), ainsi que dans son court-métrage La prisonnière de 1985.
Le présent travail propose une réflexion autour de la figure de l’enfant et de comment ces multiples significations enrichissent les interprétations de l’œuvre du réalisateur. L’étude sera abordée à partir les personnages de Terr et Piel dans les deux films mentionnés auparavant, pour ensuite les confronter aux enfants-orphelins de Hayao Miyazaki. Enfin, en analysant les liens qui s’établissent entre l’enfant et l’adulte, on s’interrogera sur cette figure comme véhicule de l’idéologie du réalisateur.
L’héro orphelin
L’enfant a été souvent associé à l’innocence et à la vulnérabilité. Quand il est exposé à un monde où il est dépourvu de la protection de ses parents, comme les orphelins protagonistes des histoires de René Laloux, sa situation renvoie à une forme de solitude plus extrême, avec laquelle il est difficile de ne pas sympathiser. Le spectateur comprend immédiatement que la survie de l’orphelin est en jeu et qu’elle dépendra, en partie, de la chance de ses rencontres et surtout, de sa propre capacité d’adaptation. Tel est notamment le cas de Terr et de Piel, et dans une moindre mesure car le court-métrage n’est pas trop développé, des jumeaux qui arrivent à la cité du silence.
Bien que certaines scènes captent la relation de l’enfant émerveillé par la nature, les films ne cessent de remarquer le danger latent de l’environnement. Nous pensons, par exemple, au moment dans lequel Terr marche à côté des cristaux qui risquent de l’emprisonner, ou quand Piel explore la planète Perdide sans être guidé par un adulte. La situation d’être abandonnés dans une planète hostile, qui n’est pas originalement la leur, sans parents pour les protéger ou avec lesquels s’identifier, renforce l’isolement de ces personnages. Sur ce point particulier, il est intéressant de noter que dans le roman de Stephan Wul, Oms en serie, la disparition de la mère de Terr n’est pas énoncée, tandis que dans La Planète sauvage, c’est justement sa morte qui ouvre le récit. Cette modification, faite par le réalisateur, vient souligner la grande détresse, tant physique qu’émotionnelle, qui caractérise le personnage de Terr et plus tard celui de Piel, lorsqu’il perd son père dans les premières minutes de Les Maitres du Temps1.
Cependant, ces orphelins ne sont pas identiques. Terr est un enfant en révolte permanente, qui cherche dès le début à s’échapper de « sa mère de substitution », alors que Piel adopte rapidement l’œuf-interphone comme son tuteur. Terr est presque machiavélique dans sa relation avec sa propriétaire, de laquelle il profite pour avoir accès aux connaissances de Draggs ; Piel qui est au contraire, plus doux, peut-être plus proche de l’idée qu’un adulte se fait d’un enfant (même si un enfant est manipulateur dès le plus jeune âge), est attaché à son œuf parce qu’il a besoin d’aide et de compagnie.
Malgré ces différences, les deux enfants partagent le fait que leur survie dépende de leurs capacités à prendre de décisions sans guidage adulte. Piel désobéi à l’œuf-interphone lors qu’il s’aperçoit du danger dans la grotte dans laquelle il lui avait été ordonné de rentrer; Terr est méfiant du primitivisme des hommes et, affrontant la loi de son clan, il avertit ses rivaux de la « déshomisation ». Dans les deux cas, ce type d’acte subversif pendant leurs enfances2, seront ce qui déterminera leurs vies adultes. Délurés et indépendants, ils deviendront respectivement un personnage clé de la résistance contre le Draggs, et le seul habitant d’une planète merveilleuse.
Leur apparence d’enfants vulnérables cache leur résilience. Orphelins de fait, mais aussi d’une idéologie qu’ils auraient pu hériter de leurs parents, ces personnages se construisent eux-mêmes en dehors d’un système de valeurs préétablis et deviennent, de cette façon, des adultes en pleine possession de leur liberté.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0uInFdJRUc
L’enfant libre, l’adulte responsable
Cela est peut-être la raison pour laquelle les enfants de La Planète sauvage et de Les Maitres du temps grandissent, contrairement aux enfants-orphelins des films de Hayao Miyazaki (réalisateur contemporain à René Laloux avec lequel il est souvent comparé). Les enfants de Laloux s’insurgent contre la domination dès leur très jeune âge et restent rebelles toute leurs vies. Il ne s’agit pas d’une attitude de révolte appartenant uniquement à la jeunesse, mais plutôt d’une façon de penser et de vivre pendant l’âge adulte.
D’autant plus, ces personnages ne sont pas les descendants d’une lignée royale avec des qualités hors du commun (comme la princesse Nausicaa, la princesse Mononoke ou Sheeta du château Laputa) sinon des gens ordinaires, portés par les circonstances. Des situations complètement accidentelles comme le faux contact du collier de Terr qui lui permet de « s’imprégner » des connaissances de Draggs, ou la communication que le Petit Piel peut avoir avec son Moi du futur ; les transforment en héros, malgré eux, et nous rappellent à quel point nous pourrions tous en devenir un.
Une dimension, si l’on veut, politique de la figure de l’enfant s’ouvre à nous à partir de cette réflexion. Pour Laloux « l’enfant s’amuse à découvrir le monde et lorsqu’il le découvre désagréable, rêve de le refaire »3 ,alors que contrairement, « les adultes se détériorent rapidement »4. Le risque, donc, que l’humanité tombe sous l’influence d’une entité totalitaire qui écrase la capacité d’élection de l’homme en le menant vers sa propre destruction, est toujours latent. Pour faire face à cette menace, le réalisateur oppose son individu libre à l’état pur : l’enfant solitaire (ou bien l’enfant-orphelin). Que se soit une domination de la part de Drags de La Planète sauvage, du people de Xuls dans Les Maitres du temps, du Métamorph dans Gandahar ou bien de la propre nature monstrueuse de l’homme dans Les Temps morts, ce serait aux adultes de garder intact leur « désir de rêver » d’enfants, pour résister et se révolter.
Il n’est pas anodin que ce soient également les voix des enfants qui véhiculent les questionnements philosophiques dans Les Maitres du temps à travers les personnages de Yula et Jade (notamment quand la création de ces gnomes est due à Rene Laloux et non à Stephan Wul), ou bien que ce soit sur une image d’archive des enfants que la réflexion sur la nature violente de l’homme dans Les temps morts est lancée.
Compte tenu de cette dimension, l’enfant devient aussi un rappel de notre capacité de transformation de la réalité, qui entraine la responsabilité de le faire.
Conclusion
Il devient clair qu’a partir de cette figure, Laloux a su, non seulement, créer des personnages attachants, mais aussi élargir les problématiques développées dans ses films. Les enfants, étant porteurs d’une symbolique sociale préexistante, sont utilisés ici pour créer des héros tenaces, tout en restant en contact avec la profonde solitude qui les habite. Des personnages qui réussissent dans des conditions adverses, ils incarnent l’espoir de changement, de liberté et de lutte que caractérisait l’idéologie de René Laloux.
En considérant sa filmographie, il est évident que bien que sa production soit qualifiée de fantastique ou de science-fiction, elle est fortement ancrée dans la réalité et dans le contexte politique des années 60, 70 et 80. Dans ses portraits des planètes merveilleuses, de papier coupé et celluloïd, aussi surréaliste soient-ils, nous pouvons toujours entrevoir les ficelles invisibles qui les connectent avec notre monde.
BIBLIOGRAPHIE
Ouvrage sur la filmographie de René Laloux:
BLIN, Fabrice, Les mondes fantastiques de Rene Laloux, Chaumont France, Le Pythagore, 2004
KAWA-TOPOR, Xavier, Cahiers de notes sur la Planete Sauvauge, Paris, Les enfants de cinéma, 2005
Articles sur la filmographie de René Laloux :
CIMENT, Gilles, « Entretiens avec Rene Laloux : Né un 13 juillet » dans Positif, N° 412, juin 1995, p 90-95
GOIMARD, Jacques, « Présence de la science-fiction à propos du festival de trieste 1973 », N° 156, février 1974, p 58-61
ROUYER, Phillipe, « Bilan provisoire du court métrage français : L’animation à Marly-le-Roy », dans Positif, N° 343, septembre 1989, p 56-57
THIRARD, Paul Louis, « Gandahar : Du temps à revendre » dans Positif, N° 325, mars 1988, p 76-77
Ouvrage sur l’animation écrit par René Laloux:
LALOUX, René, Ces dessins qui bougent : Cent ans de cinéma d’animation, Paris, Dreamland, 1996.
Article sur Hayao Miyazaki écrit par René Laloux :
LALOUX, René, « Mon voisin Hayao » dans Positif, N 412, juin 1995, p72-79
Articles sur la filmographie de Hayao Miyazaki :
CIMENT, Gilles et CIMENT, Michel, « Entretien avec Hayao Miazaki », dans Positif, N 472, juin 2000, p 82-3
NGUYEN, Ilan, « Hayao Miyazaki : Profil d’une découverte » dans Positif, N 472, juin 2000, p. 90-92
HOUGRON, Alexandre, « Monstres d’ici et d’ailleurs : pourquoi notre imaginaire est un bestiaire » dans Science-fiction et société sous la direction de HOUGRON Alexandre, 2000, p. 19-92, Paris cedex 14, Presses Universitaires de France, « Sociologie d’aujourd’hui », sur https://www.cairn.info/science-fiction-et-societe–9782130506423.htm-page-19.htm
FILMOGRAPHIE
Films écrits et réalisés par René Laloux
Les dents du singe, 1961, France, 11 min.
Les Temps morts, 1964, France, 10 min.
Les escargots, 1966, France, 10 min.
La Planète sauvage, 1973, France / Tchécoslovaquie, 72 min.
Les maitres du temps, 1982, France / Suisse / Alemagne de l’ouest / Royaume-Uni / Hongrie, 78 min.
La Prisonnière, 1985, France, 7 min.
Gandahar, 1987, France, 78 min.
Films écrits et réalisés par Hayao Miyazaki
Kaze no tani no Nausicaa, 1984, Japon / Etats Unis, 117 min.
Tenku no shiro Laputa, 1986, Japon, 125 min.
Tonari no Totoro, 1988, Japon, 86 min.
Porco Rosso, 1992, Japon, 94 min.
Mononoke Hime, 1997, Japon, 134 min.
Sen to Chihiro no kamikakushi, 2001, Japon, 125 min.
1 Ce film a été adapté par Rene Laloux du roman L’enfant de Perdide de Stephan Wul, ce qui pourrait signifier qu’il s’est inspiré de cet ouvrage au moment de l’adaptation d’Oms en série.
2Terr est peut être adolescent à ce moment du récit mais il n’est pas encore un adulte.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
I’m sitting at the kaiten-sushi restaurant. Spring has just begun and I decided to stop after work here since it’s been a while since I had sushi last time. The sushi plates rotate around me, or I rotate around the plates….I don’t know. It’s a colourful spectacle. This dance combines sensuality and death. As any dance. The smell of fresh fish and green tea. I place my selection on the screen and a gentle computer-voice confirms my order. If I had a girlfriend, I would like her to have that robotic voice. There is much to choose. I’m lost. What should I have today? Kani (crab)? Hirame (flatfish)? Anago (conger)? Ikura (red caviar)? I keep ordering and ordering. I can’t have enough of these sushi-girls. I’ve even got a discount today, 10% off. When I start to feel lucky, suddenly, I realize that they are aware of me and I feel observed. Now it’s me who rotates. It’s me who is dancing. Now it’s me who is going to end up covered with wasabi and soy-sauce.
We couldn’t resist it. Frau Katzenfisch drawings are too…cute?….sexy?….tasty?…don’t you think so?
If you didn’t read yet, check out our mini-interview with her.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
“Zine” is usually used to refer to self-published or “non-professional” publications (short form for “magazines” and “fanzines”, the last one being a kind of zine fandom-oriented). Zines are not just a good medium of experimentation, they are also spaces of expression and creation. Zines might be unsophisticated, but they offer an unique platform for freedom of expression.
Although the golden age of zines was the punk era, the internet and digitalization did not destroy independent publishing. Zines meetings are in a healthy state, truly spaces for political exchange and discussion. The anarchistic and horizontal nature of zine culture makes these places oasis for minorities and subaltern voices. Anyone can make a zine, anyone. That’s the power of zines.
Kotono is a Japanese zinester based in Osaka. She edits BGMzine, a zine about LGBTQ+ and “girl culture”. This last term could be understood as the aesthetic of “cuteness” or “kawaii-ness”, that is, an aesthetic that tends to re-appropriate the elements of “feminity”. I met Kotono in 2017 at the Zine Day Osaka. There, she told me about an article of her zine about selfies. Up to that moment, I hadn’t reflected upon the possibility that a selfie can be empowering. Usually, selfies are seen as superfluous and narcissistic. Men usually don’t permit themselves to do selfies, because it’s seen as something vacuous and girlish. However, selfies can be a form of expression, so intimate as a self-portrait in painting.
After 3 years, I wanted to catch up with Kotono and she accepted to be in my mini-interviews section.
Nepantla: First of all, thank you for letting me do this interview! How are you doing during the quarantine?
Kotono: Thank you too! Anyway, I sleep, sleep and sleep😴 haha. I also watch Instagram live streamings of different people, participate in online zine events and post about LGBTQ, feminism, etc. Also everyday I do exercise with my 2 dogs🐶🐶
N: The BGM zine has 5 issues already! Congratulations. Why and how did you start with it?
K: Thank you. First, Why＝I don’t know~~ but I just do it. How＝ I found out about them for the first time, because my favorite illustrator was making zines. She made a collection with illustrations. So My first zine was also an inspiration’s collection (illustration, pictures, calligraphy).
N: BGM zine offers a place to discuss themes about the LGBT+ community. How do you see the situation of the LGBT+ community in Japan?
K: Ah~… This question is difficult for me… Because honestly I don’t really know it.
Do you know Shinjuku 2chome in Tokyo and Doyama in Osaka? These are gay community’s districts in Japan. But I don’t really go there. Of course I like it though!♡ Umm…how should I say… Japanese gay community is really wonderful, but…umm. I don’t think “Here is my place!”
Anyway I go anywhere, I meet a lot of people, and I talk to everyone, that’s all.
N: What do you think about the representation of the LGBTQ+ community in Japanese television?
K: I think Japanese television is too old-fashioned. Sometimes I would like to say:「Do you know now is 2020?」. But it’s improving little by little.
N: What do you think then about queer figures in Japanese television like Matsuko Deluxe?
K: It’s a difficult question. Almost all Japanese people are interested in what she says. She expresses her opinions very clearly. They don’t care about her gender and sexuality. I don’t know if that is good or not.🤔
N: What is “girl culture” for you?
K: I think everybody’s different, but everything can be empowering. “Girl culture” is about that.
N: What is for you the magic of zines?
K: Nice question♡ It constructs a warming communication with a lot of people. So amazing.
N: Are you working on the next issue of BGM?
K: Yes. I am making the next issue about my 3 friends’ shared life of 1 year.
N: Thank you a lot for your time!
K: My pleasure! My English is not good, but I hope I can transmit you my feelings.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
Every week Amanda Vox documents life in lockdown/quarantine via collages. A collage seems most appropiate to depict such a multi-facetted phenomenon, as it combines images, faces, elements that normally don’t belong toegether, but nevertheless intertwine in a meaningful visual experience. A collage has the advantage of being able to portray how the life of one thing gets interrupted and at the same time completed by other, unexpected things. Such a descriptive logic fits well with the everyday experience and confusion of self-isolation, that paradoxically connects us to a global pandemia, to an indefinite and indeterminate event seeping in every corner of our lives.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
Il est dit que Wong Kar-wai filme Hong Kong de manière fragmentaire, sans utiliser des plans généraux d’endroits célèbres qui rendraient la ville facilement reconnaissable. Un sentiment fortement local est atteint dans ses films, car il arrive à capter le vrai esprit de sa ville avec ses pulsations et son rythme. Ce même regard est porté sur Buenos Aires dans Happy Together. Une tâche d’autant plus difficile, qu’il s’agit d’une ville inconnue du réalisateur et que le risque de tomber dans une vision « éxotissante » d’une destination -pour lui lointaine- était grand. Au contraire, fidèle à son style, il a tourné la plupart de ses plans au plus proche de ses personnages, de leurs actions, sensations et émotions dans les petits espaces de la vie quotidienne. Grâce à son refus de « montrer la ville comme Evita l’avait fait »1, Buenos Aires émerge davantage comme le milieu aux visages multiples avec lequel les protagonistes interagissent, que comme un arrière-plan générique, basé sur les imaginaires communs de la capitale argentine. Mais, est-elle la seule ville à émerger?
Le présent travail propose une réflexion autour des thématiques qui s’offrent à partir de comment la mise-en scène de Buenos Aires évoque Hong Kong. En partant d’une analyse de l’image, nous allons étudier comment l’ambiguïté scénographique de l’espace sert à renforcer les problématiques des personnages. L’exil, la solitude, l’immigration, la nostalgie et l’identité, reviennent dans cette œuvre à travers un miroir déformé de Hong Kong, qui met en évidence l’héritage métis du réalisateur et son ressenti envers la situation politique de sa ville au moment du tournage. D’autres références externes comme l’utilisation de la musique et l’influence de la littérature argentine, sont également mentionnés pour compléter l’analyse.
Une appréciation personnelle est donnée à la fin.
Buenos Aires et Hong Kong, l’ambivalence de l’espace dans l’image
« J’ai tourné Happy Together à Buenos Aires, loin de ma ville, mais le film ne parle que d’elle »2. Comment un endroit situé de l’autre coté du globe et soumis à des processus de colonisation et migration complètement différents de ceux de Hong Kong, peut ressembler esthétiquement à la ville du réalisateur ?
Pour répondre à cette question, étudier la manière par laquelle Buenos Aires a été filmée est fondamentale. Loin de faire un portrait qui souligne l’altérité d’une autre culture à travers d’endroits stéréotypés, le film se concentre sur des quartiers peu connus. En priorisant comme décor des passages mal éclairés, des tunnels et des trottoirs proches du port, les possibles similarités entre ces deux villes augmentent. Si on ajoute que la caméra est toujours près des personnages et, qu’a travers eux l’espace révélé est souvent la pièce d’une auberge à palette saturée (comme dans In the mood for love, 2046 ou Chungking express) le film s’inscrit dans une espèce de continuation de l’univers esthétique de Wong Kar-wai, qui excède les limites géographiques. Ici, Buenos Aires existe uniquement à partir du regard subjectif des personnages (sans mentionner celui du réalisateur) qui teinte, morcelle et modifie l’espace, jusqu’au point de l’assimiler à leur ville natale.
Au niveau de l’histoire, cette ambiguïté est pertinente pour accentuer la déconnexion que les personnages sentent vis-à-vis du lieu qui les accueille. Ho Po-wing et Lai Yiu-fai sont deux hongkongais qui, habitant provisoirement en Argentine, reproduisent leurs modes de vie asiatiques dans un contexte occidental. Au-delà des jeux d’acteurs, l’ambivalence du décor accentue leur ressenti, assez commun parmi des immigrants, d’être simultanément immergés dans une culture étrangère et éloignés d’elle. L’exemple de Lai Yiu-fai vers la fin du film est intéressant, car son détachement de Buenos Aires se traduit par une forme de proximité avec Hong Kong. Il préfère travailler de nuit dans un abattoir, afin d’être réveillé en même temps que les habitants de sa ville, et arrive à l’imaginer inversé (car elle se situe géographiquement à l’opposé de l’Argentine). Il est important de souligner que, quand il décide finalement de rentrer à Hong Kong, Happy Together se clôture avec un plan général de Taiwan. Même si Hong Kong a été évoquée en permanence, la ville n’est jamais proprement montrée. Elle est présente soit par son absence, soit à travers le reflet d’une autre ville.
Faisant écho à l’indifférence des personnages envers Buenos Aires, la silhouette de la capitale reste à l’écart de l’action. Le seul plan général du monument emblématique -l’obélisque- est montré détaché d’éléments humains (caméra en plongée, accélérée, qui transforme les voitures en mouvement en rayons de lumière multi-couleur) ce qui le rend encore plus irréel. Il semblerait que, tout comme le plan général des chutes d’Iguaçu, l’intérêt de ces images n’est pas d’ancrer le récit dans une carte postale identifiable, sinon de présenter un espace vivant, capable de révéler l’intériorité des personnages. Pour traiter l’exil et la nostalgie, ce n’est pas indispensable que l’action se déroule dans un archétype de l’Argentine. Ce qui est essentiel est que l’espace accepte la projection de Hong Kong sur soi, et/ou qu’il puisse évoquer ces sentiments à travers des images. Le résultat est un espace métis, perméable, qui montre l’une et l’autre de ses façades simultanément.
L’introduction d’éléments orientaux –peu communs dans le contexte argentin classique– collabore également à la création d’une atmosphère hybride. Par exemple, plusieurs moments de l’histoire ont lieu autour de la préparation de repas asiatiques (utilisation d’un wok, des baguettes) ou dans la cuisine d’un restaurant chinois dans laquelle les employés jouent au majong. De plus, les protagonistes ne parlent qu’à peine l’espagnol, et les dialogues pertinents3, ainsi que les réflexions en voix off se déroulent en cantonais ou en mandarin. Cette distance des personnages envers leur entourage implique, également, que les échanges oraux ou sexuels avec les argentins, soient caractérisés par leur superficialité. Les porteños sont montrés uniquement comme une masse générique, presque comme une autre manifestation de l’espace non-approprié, avec lequel les protagonistes n’ont pas de relation proche.
Tango, littérature argentine et exil
Néanmoins, s’il existe bien un terrain de communion pour les hongkongais et la culture argentine, c’est celui du tango. Au-delà de la tendance de Wong Kar-wai à utiliser de la musique latino-américaine dans ses films, le tango fonctionne ici comme un des rares référents directs du pays. De plus, ses paroles et son rythme mélancolique -souvent associé au désenchantement amoureux-, accompagnent plusieurs séquences de Lai Yiu-fai et Ho Po-wing. Symboliquement, cette union se matérialise dans la cuisine de l’auberge où le couple danse un morceau du Tango Apasionado, l’un des trois thèmes de cette album d’Astor Piazzolla utilisés. Le choix de cet interprète est intéressant parce que ses compositions sont déjà un mélange de mélange du tango classique et de jazz. Exilé lui-même, il a adapté le tango pour en faire un moyen d’expression singulier.
Par ailleurs, le tango est en soit une musique métisse. Amalgame de la habanera, le candombe et le valsesito, il est le résultat de l’entrecroisement culturel qui a eu lieu en Argentine, au début du XXème siècle.
Un autre point de contact avec la culture argentine qui mérite d’être cité est celui de la littérature. Bien que le film se soit librement inspiré du roman « The Buenos Aires affaire » de Manuel Puig, il garde une affinité plus profonde avec « Rayuela » de Julio Cortázar (un autre écrivain exilé, mentionné comme influence importante par le réalisateur). Dans cette œuvre, le duo de protagonistes vit à Paris. Déracinés et en permanente crise existentielle, ils n’arrivent jamais à avoir une relation stable. Une boucle de commencements et ruptures, similaire à celle de ses homologues asiatiques, les conduit à errer dans une ville que n’est pas la leurs. Comme Stephen Teo le signale «Paris, dans cette instance, est un substitut de Buenos Aires, de la même façon que Buenos est un substitut de Hong Kong [dans Happy Together] »4.
Au delà de ces rapprochements, une certaine similitude socio-historique est aussi tangible. Ces deux villes sont le produit d’un métissage ; même si les processus varient, leurs identités ont été marquées par l’immigration. L’Argentine a reçu plusieurs vagues d’étrangers à partir du 1900 qui, forcés par différentes raisons d’abandonner leurs pays d’origine, s’installent majoritairement à Buenos Aires, dans des logements très précaires proches du port. Les sentiments d’exil et de mélancolie de cette génération vont laisser leur empreinte dans la culture populaire, notamment dans le tango. Pareillement, la culture de Hong Kong, qui a été depuis toujours une ville-port, est forgée par l’échange, le passage et l’immigration.
Dans le film, ce parallèle est visible par le choix de situer l’action dans le même quartier dans lequel les premiers immigrants se sont installés, La Boca. Là où les conditions de vie sont précaires et les espaces communs, étroits. Les voyageurs de Happy Together, qui sont devenus temporairement des immigrants, véhiculent leurs difficultés matérielles aussi bien que leurs conflits internes. Malgré leurs désirs de rentrer, ils sont empêchés de partir de Buenos Aires par des problèmes financiers, mais surtout, à cause du manque d’un lieu vers lequel revenir5. Cette contradiction augmente la sensation d’exil, même s’il n’y a pas de références politiques directes. Néanmoins, plusieurs auteurs6 ont signalé que le vrai exil est méta-filmique : montrer l’histoire d’un couple homosexuel, au moment de la rétrocession de Hong Kong à la Chine. Autrement dit, amener à l’écran la thématique d’une communauté qui avait beaucoup à perdre en termes de libertés individuelles et civils, et le faire le plus loin possible de Hong Kong, dénote déjà une prise de position assez claire. « […] Le cinéma de Hong Kong n’est pas politique, si ce n’est par allusions ou métaphores […] »7. Bien que cette dimension sociopolitique mérite un examen plus profond, nous nous contenterons d’en avoir fait mention pour compléter l’analyse.
Dernière réflexion
Lors dans un premier visionnage, il semblerait que Wong Kar-wai se sert de Buenos Aires comme d’un canevas indifférent, sur lequel il imprime sa vision de Hong Kong pour l’évoquer à la distance.
Cependant, au fur et à mesure qu’on avance sur l’analyse des éléments communs entre les deux cultures, on s’aperçoit de la profondeur de ces échanges. Le réalisateur, avec son bagage cultural et son histoire, s’approprie de ce qu’il connaît et qu’il aime de l’Argentine, pour créer quelque chose de nouveau, qui n’est ni Buenos Aires, ni Hong Kong et qui est pourtant les deux. Une telle ambivalence ne serait pas possible sans la création d’un nouveau langage composite, produit par la circulation des formes culturelles diverses et capable d’opérer à de différents niveaux.
On pourrait se demander s’il existe encore aujourd’hui, dans un monde tellement traversé par le globalisme et l’interculturalité, des expressions artistiques qui ne seraient pas le résultat d’un entrecroisement.
Étant argentine, regarder mon pays à travers la caméra de Wong Kar-wai est une expérience étrange. Sa manière de filmer est tellement personnelle qu’il n’y a aucun doute qu’il s’agit là d’un de ces films. Contrairement, il est moins évident de reconnaître Buenos Aires dans ses images. «Peut son art être global et local simultanément? » est une question que nous devrons poser à chaque fois qu’on regarde un de ces filmes.
1 JOUSSE, Thierry, Wong Kar-wai, Paris : Cahiers du cinéma, les petits cahiers, 2006, p. 84
3 La plupart des dialogues en espagnol ne sont pas sous-titrés, faisant parti du fond sonore du film. Il s’agit des conversations banales, que n’ont pas de relation directe avec l’histoire ou les personnages.
4 TEO, Stephen, Wong Kar-Wai, Londres: Bfi publishing “World Directors”, 2005, p. 104
5 Lai Yiu-fai a eu un problème avec son père qui le maintienne éloigné de Hong Kong, tandis que les motifs de Ho Po-wing restent un mystère.
6 Acbkar Abbas, Stephen Teo, Jeremy Tumbling et Bérénice Reynaud. Cette liste n’est pas exhaustive. Les œuvres des auteurs cités sont inclues dans la bibliographie.
7 REYNAUD, Bérénice, Nouvelles Chines, Nouveaux cinémas, Paris : Cahiers du cinéma, 1999, p. 23
8 TEO, Stephen, Wong Kar-wai, Londres: Bfi publishing “World Directors”, 2005, p. 1
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
Lucía Brutta es quizás una de las autoras más auténticas de la escena comiquera, ska y cervecera de Argentina. Sus cómics no reproducen el mundo del sub-/postmundo con la mirada sarcástica de la intelligentsia de la línea clara. Por el contrario, pareciera que sus cómics, como las películas de Herzog, fueran concebidos como documentales de ficción, una mirada desde el campo de batalla. Muchxs historietistas se apropian de la estética punk, pero Brutta es una banda punk. Sólo que en vez de sacar discos, saca cómics (y remeras).
Brutta publicó numerosas historietas que aparecieron en fanzines y publicaciones como la antología legendaria Informe e incluso en la Revista Fierro. Además de eso, ella misma editó diversas antologías, entre las que cabe destacar la colección risográfica Capisci? Si quieren saber más sobre Brutta lean las notas de La Nación, Página 12, Clarín y la entrevista en Revista Kirk.
Aquí me interesa concentrarme en algunos aspectos conceptuales de su obra. Hasta ahora, su cómic más extenso es Un millón de bandas malas, una antología a color de historias cortas que retratan, como decía, el mundillo de las bandas, la noche y los fanzines. Uno de los comentarios maś agudos sobre esta obra es quizás el de James Scorer. Coincido con él en que la “postpolítica” de Brutta no es anti-política. Al contrario, es en el post-mundo donde las micropolíticas se reorganizan bajo la forma de nuevas comunidades. Es por eso que el gesto de poner la atención en los maŕgenes de la subcultura tiene que ver con construir un lenguaje de la periferia. Scorer escribe:
“Un millón de bandas malas propone, por ejemplo, una lectura política de la ciudad. Los barrios periféricos del cómic son intersticios de la gran metrópoli capitalista moderna, espacios “exteriores” inherentemente incluidos en la gran ciudad a través de su propia exclusión. En “Antifanzín”, la protagonista viaja a una estación llamada “Zona Norte”, unas coordenadas que bien condensan la dinámica espacial del episodio. Lo hace para vender allí su publicación DIY (Do-It-Yourself). La historia critica el intento de los habitantes urbanos adinerados de la zona por apropiarse de la estética under. Y en “Las fisu”, los protagonistas viajan por la ciudad en bicicleta y visitan un bar donde son tratadas como sapos de otro pozo. Sin embargo, a pesar de no poder cumplir su objetivo de seducir a los hombres del lugar, las “fisu” terminan haciendo suyo ese lugar que las desprecia, como cuando abren a la fuerza una caja de electricidad de la calle para ocultar allí el vino a medio terminar que no pueden llevar adentro del local.”
Buenos Aires es un monstruo que como Saturno devora a sus hijxs. Afortunadamente hay un grupo de historietistas como Pedro Mancini que des-dibujan los márgenes y ofrecen una visión de lo “ultradeforme”. Brutta hace lo suyo desde la periferia de esa ciudad deforme, dándole voz a los que son sino residuos patéticos de la cultura de masas.
2. La línea turbia
Se habla de “línea clara” para describir un estilo de dibujo nacido en la escena francófona del cómic que se caracteriza por la pulcritud estética (ejemplo Tintín). La línea clara es el cómic de diseño, un cómic con contornos precisos y académicos, que separan a los personajes de los edificios y transforman a los edificios en personajes.
En un comentario sobre un cómic de Brutta, alguien escribió:
“La historia de Lucía Brutta es muy breve, pero está muy bien. Buen ritmo, buen dibujo… lástima el rotulado, con pincel grueso, que hace difícil la lectura de los diálogos (que también son excelentes)”.
En ese sentido, me pregunto si se puede llamar al estilo de Brutta, por contraposición, “línea oscura” o “línea gruesa”. Una línea, en sí, es siempre oscura, no puede ser clara, pues de ser muy clara se transformaría en un haz de luz. La línea clara quizás aspira a ser luz, a viajar a la velocidad de la luz, elongándose en el espacio infinito de la hoja. La línea gruesa, por el contrario, se ensancha, busca volverse noche. Si ambas líneas fueran potencias, serían potencias contrarias, la potencia positiva que busca limitar, “aclarar” con la luz de la razón técnica, y la potencia negativa que busca rebasar los límites. Breccia el viejo es sin duda un ejemplo de la línea gorda. Scorer escribe “Los cuerpos de Brutta son sitios de exuberancia y ruptura, sitios que producen vómito y semen, donde circula la droga, el alcohol y el deseo”. Esto sólo es posible mediante la línea oscura, porque la línea oscura es la línea de la materia. Es la oscuridad la que construye la materia de la página. La línea clara es clara porque deja espacio a la luz de la hoja. La línea oscura reclama la presencia del fondo oscuro. No es coincidencia que Pedro Mancini trabaje con la predominancia del negro. A pesar de que su línea no es “gruesa”, sino onírico-fantasmática, sí es oscura. La línea de Brutta es oscura y gruesa, es decir, es una línea pantanosa, espesa.
Mientras esperamos que el fin del mundo pase de largo, les dejamos una mini-entrevista con Brutta.
3. Entrevista
Nepantla: Cómo la estás pasando en la cuarentena? Recomendanos un cómic y un disco.
Lucía Brutta: Bien dentro de todo, bancando la toma. Buscando trabajo. Un cómic: “Vida Nuda” de Lautaro Fiszman lo tengo en el baño no puedo parar de mirarlo. Un disco Straigh Outta Compton de N.W.A.
N: En qué estás trabajando ahora? Escuché que es un comic sobre bebes . Contanos un poco de eso.
B: Si, Abortos y Bebés. Hasta el momento 4 historias de 6 pág. sobre abortos y sobre bebés. Recién dibujé una así que falta mucho.
N: Heidegger escribió un texto que se llama “¿Por qué permanecemos en la Provincia?”, donde explicaba que prefería vivir aislado en el campo y fumar pipa con los campesinos, en lugar de volverse famoso en la ciudad. Vos podrías escribir uno que sea: ¿Por qué permanecemos en el Conurbano?
B: Yo no podría escribir un texto pero tal vez podría hacer un cómic.
N: Leyendo otras entrevistas que te hicieron nombrás a autores que te influyeron como Robert Crumb, Peter Bagge, Julie Doucet, Charles Burns, pero me pregunto cuáles fueron las primeras cosas que leiste, cuando eras chica digo.
B: Mafalda a pleno. Fontanarrosa. Humor gráfico en general.
N: Cuál tu comentario favorito que te hayan hecho sobre Un millón?
B: “Es gracioso porque es verdad”
N: Después de la publicación de Un millón de bandas malas te ví hacer muchos flyers. Los flyers son un género inusual, pero tiene mucho sentido. Siento que es una continuación de Un millón de bandas malas por otros medios.
Si siempre me gustó ver música en vivo. Qué mejor que laburar de lo que te gusta.
N: Qué otros proyectos tenés en mente?
B:Supongo que no me queda otra que hacer barbijos.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
What I meant. A story based on abstract expressionism.
Any beginning gets an empty canvas.
Thought empty, it’s still an intention of expression, so to say. At first sight one would say the “ethereal” artistic experience of an abstract painting dragged through the café entourage of Montmartre should suffice: where the “bearers of pineal glands” talk endlessly of culture, politics and sneakers. This might well be the case in a post-truth (non-binary) society. It can be anything, anyhow. Anyways, I try not to be that way.
The above is meant as a critique both to a gratuitous artistic spectacle as well as of the superficial spectator (art is lately mere sports, but this is for some other time).
I was talking about the (mis)fortuitous canvas. Just wait and see what I am going to do to it when I get my hands on it. Or better yet what I am going to tell it. Because yes, it’s more than some paste on a rag, or a pixel on a screen, reasonably assembled for the ocular feast. It’s a dialogue. A dialogue with myself, with you, with “factories and plants” (the author alludes here to the post-communist decay of a gloriously praised communist industry, so typical for the Balkan sceneries).
A painting with no voice, with no communication (yes I know it’s vague) is a mere object. It’s just wallpaper. It’s a design piece that never goes beyond itself, and this is the biggest danger of the niche.
And now, lacking any formal training in art, I wish to refer to my own process.
First of all, sketches by the dozen. Not necessarily on a specific topic, but more or less compositional. A sort of initial humming of any tune at any given time. This can be for me a mere form of stress relief, but also a conscious effort to create.
In time, these transform themselves in reflexes, gestures (or even nervous ticks) that become a sort of second nature. It’s something of a personal alphabet in which I transcribe the experiences I cannot verbally express. This is the most pleasant part of my process.
The concept I sketched above needs something palpable. A piece of meat. Some muscle. Something that can catch the light. The color forms the body that tells my story. The solid forms, the gradients and fresh knife touches help me to incrust decisions (yes / no) with each gesture. These decisions are my merit. They distinguish me from the old paradigm of abstract painting being nothing more than random acts of paint splashing.
Paradoxically, the unprecedented artistic freedom leads me to this form of expression. Through a conscious effort I make art out of wallpapers.
It is generally accepted that the artist bears no responsibility, or that they need not excuse themselves for their work. Yes, excuses are not required, but the responsibility is enormous, related to one’s system of meanings. Monet or Goya. To paint Mohammed: an act of bravery or bad taste?
Here’s the catch, the subtilty, the art stripped of its raw rebellion. Personally I stick to seeing my painting as guitar solos with no voice covering it up, that through assumed compositional rules and personal innovation arouse more the soul than the mind.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
Every week Amanda Vox documents life in lockdown/quarantine via collages. A collage seems most appropiate to depict such a multi-facetted phenomenon, as it combines images, faces, elements that normally don’t belong toegether, but nevertheless intertwine in a meaningful visual experience. A collage has the advantage of being able to portray how the life of one thing gets interrupted and at the same time completed by other, unexpected things. Such a descriptive logic fits well with the everyday experience and confusion of self-isolation, that paradoxically connects us to a global pandemia, to an indefinite and indeterminate event seeping in every corner of our lives.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
Nepantla: How are you doing? How are you spending the quarantine?
Frau Katzenfisch: I’m fine, I’m by nature an indoor person, so I’m enjoying doing yoga, going for a walk, cooking, eating, cooking eating…
N: In which project are you working right now?
FK: I’m doing a picture quarantine diary.
N: What artists inspire you lately?
FK: I’m trying not to pay much attention to other artist’s works lately… because I don’t want to get affected by them.
N: I really like the way in which you combine sexy intimacy, feminism and Japanese elements in your drawings. How do you feel that these elements interact together?
FK: Thank you, Well… I think when those elements come together, you’ll see myself. The hidden eroticism is my motivation to draw, and I’m trying to add Japanese elements as my background. It was unconscious, but I realized that I was a feminist because others often pointed me that out.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
Este es un poema visual hecho a base de experimentos con VHS, algunas técnicas de glitch y datamosh. Es un collage visual primitivo. Todavía no estaba de moda el vaporwave, pero si había una rehabilitación de la estética VHS como en Trash Humpers (2009) de Harmony Korine.
Every week Amanda Vox documents life in lockdown/quarantine via collages. A collage seems most appropiate to depict such a multi-facetted phenomenon, as it combines images, faces, elements that normally don’t belong toegether, but nevertheless intertwine in a meaningful visual experience. A collage has the advantage of being able to portray how the life of one thing gets interrupted and at the same time completed by other, unexpected things. Such a descriptive logic fits well with the everyday experience and confusion of self-isolation, that paradoxically connects us to a global pandemia, to an indefinite and indeterminate event seeping in every corner of our lives.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
Mathematics, astronomy, irrigation, sewer systems, rubber…there were many technological advances made by the indigenous people of the Americas that most people are not aware of. The Uncolonized is an interactive installation inviting the viewer to walk through a glimpse of a parallel universe. A universe where the western hemisphere was not colonized and the indigenous people were allowed to advance without outside interference. Creating a new world of solar powered Aztechnonauts, systematic Mayathmaticians, computing Incanputer Scientists, problem solving Zapoteknical Engineers and experimenting Olmechemists. The installation presents an alternative realm which invites the viewer to create a dialogue in the history of the Americas and its indigenous people. Instill a curiosity into the untaught histories of our heritage while using a science fiction twist to nurture the pride in one’s ethnic heritage, creating thought, generate conversation and discussion to forge a strong sense of pride in who we are as a people. The work, created through multimedia sculptures, laser cut resin paintings, video, music as artifacts are laid out in an archeological museum motif including dioramas of key points in this new history. A mural of divergent timeline includes the histories of the universe, the new paths taken and points of divergence.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
I am an Edinburgh based multi disciplinary artist working in a variety of mediums: oil on canvas, stone carving and clay sculpture and more recently, traditional hand cut photomontage. I exhibit regularly and am always touched that the viewers are genuinely moved by the work. To create something that reaches out to the human spirit is very rewarding.
The paintings and sculptures often portray the juxtaposition of a strong exterior presence but unmasking the soft vulnerability that lies beneath. Continually fascinated and inspired by the human form I draw upon feelings of isolation and alienation; people connecting or not connecting
“Quiet figures occupy barren landscapes; still monuments that focus on unspoken communication, the subtlety and complexity of a moment, the simple gesture loaded with meaning”
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
Every week Amanda Vox documents life in lockdown/quarantine via collages. A collage seems most appropiate to depict such a multi-facetted phenomenon, as it combines images, faces, elements that normally don’t belong toegether, but nevertheless intertwine in a meaningful visual experience. A collage has the advantage of being able to portray how the life of one thing gets interrupted and at the same time completed by other, unexpected things. Such a descriptive logic fits well with the everyday experience and confusion of self-isolation, that paradoxically connects us to a global pandemia, to an indefinite and indeterminate event seeping in every corner of our lives.
The role of photography in the construction of identity. An encounter between observing and being observed; detailed colored large-scaled depictions...
Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives Cynthia Enloe University of California Press, 2000, 437 pages. ISBN: 9780520220713 Traducción...
Tender Care Piñata is a visual commentary on children in detention centers presented at Cabrales’ exhibition It Came From Beyond the Border
The exhibition depicts the epistemic conflict of a fictitious danger – in the form of UFO’s – that is in fact completely benign – the UFO’s are in fact Mexican sweets called conchas.
To the untrained eye, the conchas are not self-evident, they do no present themselves immediately as benign, nor as neutral sweets. They are as the title of the series suggestes something from beyond the border. As unknown objects they can become objects of fear, they can become the transitive target of projections of fear and hatred.
The choice of depicting the threat from beyond the border as flying conchas reveals the ridiculeness of fictitious danger, of defense mechanisms and of exagerated measures against migrants.
The core of this ridiculuous fictitious danger is exposed in the video featured at the It Came from Beyon the Border, that shows the mundane triviality of life beyond the border. It presents it however in a diffuse manner, in an almost tyring play of colour saturations. This manner of depicting mundane life functions in the same logic as the posters: it shows how fear is projected onto its imagined object, and does not reside within it. Here is the video, which will act as context and reinforcer of the message of Tender Care Piñata, that follows immediately after.
Original Score by Henry Van made for the It Came From Beyond the Border exhibition by Angel Cabrales, all rights reserved by Angel Cabrales. The Video and music was originally projected on a faux border wall at the Ro2 gallery in Dallas TX in January of 2019
In the background of the above video and posters, the brutality of the Tender Care Piñata apears more evidently. Here is Cabrales’ description of the Tender Care Piñata:
The traditional seven-point piñata is a representation of the struggle against temptation and sin. Each point represents one of the seven deadly sins: envy, sloth, gluttony, greed, lust, anger/wrath, and pride with the center representing evil. The candy in the center has been said to represent the good taken from the world. The stick which is used to break the piñata symbolizes love. It is supposed to destroy the sins by hitting and breaking the pinata into pieces. The candies and treats that come pouring out from the broken piñata symbolize the forgiveness of sins and a new beginning.
The Tender Care Piñata takes this meaning and replaces the candy with children wrapped in survival blankets, representing the children taken to detention centers throughout the United States due to the current administration’s immigration stance. The pinata is now a steel cage, unbreakable, unwavering, cold and uncaring.
And here is the installation itself:
Putting the posters and the It Came from Beyond the Border video together with the Tender Care Piñata the conflict between the benign danger of flying conchas orpeople selling fruit and the draconis measures that cage a fictitious threat becomes manifest.
Every week Amanda Vox documents life in lockdown/quarantine via collages. A collage seems most appropiate to depict such a multi-facetted phenomenon, as it combines images, faces, elements that normally don’t belong toegether, but nevertheless intertwine in a meaningful visual experience. A collage has the advantage of being able to portray how the life of one thing gets interrupted and at the same time completed by other, unexpected things. Such a descriptive logic fits well with the everyday experience and confusion of self-isolation, that paradoxically connects us to a global pandemia, to an indefinite and indeterminate event seeping in every corner of our lives.
Deriva Ediciones, editorial especializada en cómic experimental e independiente, está liberando parte de su catálogo para sobrellevar la cuarentena con historietas deformes y fantásticas.
Marius Bercea is a contemporary Romanian artist. His paintings immediately reproduce in the observer facial expressions of people that I often wondered at in my trips to Romania: the uniqueness of their smiles and serious gazes. After shortly speaking with him (via Insta), I made a selection of some images taken from Instagram due to the fact that his archive is at his studio and the corona/crisis prevents him from leaving home. I hope you enjoy this marvelous artistic input!
Every week Amanda Vox documents life in lockdown/quarantine via collages. A collage seems most appropiate to depict such a multi-facetted phenomenon, as it combines images, faces, elements that normally don’t belong toegether, but nevertheless intertwine in a meaningful visual experience. A collage has the advantage of being able to portray how the life of one thing gets interrupted and at the same time completed by other, unexpected things. Such a descriptive logic fits well with the everyday experience and confusion of self-isolation, that paradoxically connects us to a global pandemia, to an indefinite and indeterminate event seeping in every corner of our lives.
