textiles.

For those who know me well, you know how excited I was for the textiles of Peru. Though textiles have always been necessary for any civilization to keep warm and to be clothed, textiles amongst the Andean and coastal people of ancient Peru exceeded necessity – they held symbolic importance as well. To quote from my newly-purchased, beautiful little book Textiles of Ancient Peru:

Textiles provide the mirror in which the economic, social, political and religious development of every culture of ancient Peru is reflected, as well as defining the rank and status of the individual for whom they were made, possessing as they do a great mythical-sacred content through the incorporation of iconographic elements. (16)

Initially vegetable fibers were woven (depending on the archeologist – around 8000 BCE), but by 2500 BCE cotton was cultivated and by 1000 BCE llamas, alpacas, vicuñas, and guanacos were domesticated to produce wool. Remarkably there are textiles that remain intact after several thousand years, though most textiles from rainy climates have deteriorated.

camelid family tree

Part of our guided tour through the Sacred Valley included a visit to a llama, alpaca, and vicuña reserve. Our group helped stuff these gentle animals with green goodness and naturally I recorded the process. We were also able to see what plants are used to create dyes and I was excited to see the enticing cochinillo (a beetle found on prickly pear cacti - read: A Perfect Red: Empire, Espionage and the Quest for the Color of Desire) turn things a brilliant red. Yeah, I’m a dork. At the end sat perfectly placed women weavers (historically apparently both genders wove in Incan society) and we were told we could take pictures of them – as if they were another species in the animal reserve. So... I didn’t take pictures of them weaving, nor did I buy any of the very expensive items in the gift shop, conveniently placed at the exit.


Several weeks later we visited the Centro de Textiles Tradicionales del Cusco, a weaving workshop in Chinchero, a town outside of Cusco. Easily, this was what I was most excited for in our time in Peru. At first we were shown the process of spinning and weaving, but the rest of the day was dedicated to dying wool. We were split up into seven groups to create seven dyes – peach, yellow, orange, red (cochinillo!!), burgandy, purple (nearly indigo), and green. I was on team burgandy, though we tended to circulate and help when needed. Essentially the dying process goes as follows: boil water, add the dyestuff, add wool, let it boil for awhile, add more dyestuff if necessary, boil, remove wool from water, let cool, rinse, ring, dry. We all were able to take skeins of wool home, though yellow ran out before I was able to grab one up (which I’m pretty disappointed about – I’m the damn knitter after all!! ughhhhh). Our bathroom smelled like wet alpaca for several days while my roommates and I dried our newly dyed wool.

getting the fire started

burgandy pot - stirring dye and wool

burgandy pot

rinsing the red yarn

our yarn!

I did take pictures of some of the women from Chinchero, as the experience was far more collaborative than at the animal reserve. I also bought several woven pieces, each with a little tag that includes the name and picture of its maker. While our visit to the CTTC helped fund the non-profit, all purchases go directly to the women who work there. This may not sound that significant, but its good to see where your money goes, unlike in the markets where pieces very well could have been made in factories and going to undeserving pockets.

My, this is a monsterously long post – will leave it be for now. Coming soon... pictures of Machu Picchu, I promise!

solidarity.

While I am currently in Cusco, there are a few things that I still want to address from my time in Lima. Though not unique to the nation’s capital, the topic of solidarity was a core theme in our ventures in Lima, namely in our visit to Villa El Salvador and the artist community, Lurín.

The story of Villa El Salvador is pretty amazing – it began as a shantytown in the middle of the desert, just 20 kilometers south of Lima, but by 1971 a city was in the making. (insert name), a leftist dictator leading Peru at this time, allowed for the city planning of Villa El Salvador. This is pretty incredible given that the government never attends to its poor, before or since. Through united group efforts, city planning commenced and people began to build - there is a tremendous amount of pride in the residents of Villa El Salvador.

Nevertheless, the standard of living in Villa El Salvador is far lower than anything I've seen in the States (which granted, I haven't been everywhere in the US of A) - most people spend their lives waiting and hoping to build their homes out of brick (as opposed to plastic, sheet metal, or woven fibers attached to a more flimsy structure), and if that's achieved, the next dream is to build a second story. To illustrate, there are a lot of buildings with rebar jutting out of the top in anticipation to build up. The city is also expansive. Because of the inability to build up, it sprawls out, causing its residents to rely on modes of transportation other than by foot. Trash can be found nearly everywhere, illustrating the country's lack of appropriate waste management, or at least outside of tourist destinations (which tend to be emmaculate).

I didn't take many photographs of Villa El Salvador, in fact, I really only took photos in the cemetery. There was something off-putting about getting off a chartered bus and taking pictures of people's homes. I feel it necessary to illustrate this city's story and all it entails, yet not at the expense of treating people and their belongings as if they are safari animals. Guess that's a mentality that will never allow me to be a great photographer...

view of Villa El Salvador from the cemetery

Anywho. On to Lurín. Lurín is an artist barrio made up of artisans from Ayacucho who mostly fled their Andean homeland to escape the violence during the 80s and 90s (Ayacucho was hit the hardest by the Shining Path and the military). We visited with a few ceramic and textile artists and they all were very excited to welcome us into their homes and workshops, likewise it was wonderful to visit them.

The amount of work that goes into the artists' respective pieces compared to the prices they sold them for amazed me. Being a craftsperson myself, I never know what to charge for my work, but I know I would charge more than they were for their work. Life is constantly a learning experience, and this was just another encounter that made me further appreciate the work of others.

One of the artisans said (or something to this effect), "though we are artisans, we are very much connected to the modern world." This struck me and I feel there is more behind this comment, including the common assumption that artists and artisans differ in sophistication, importance, and value. This of course is false, though the art world as we know it continues to perpetuate these assumptions.

Apparently art isn't for everyone though, and some of the students chose to play soccer with local kids. They lost sorely to the niños. And that's all for now.


artisan making all the tiny details the molds could not make

Andean angels

to be continued.

Ughhhhhhhh, I have so much to say and no time or internet access in order to post. I promise I will post something soon!

amazing artists (amended).

During our stay in Lima we have met with a fair amount of artists (though no female artists - arg!), whose work I think poignant, beautiful, and necessary. It's difficult to know to what extent artists in Peru create art as a form political awareness and critique, but according to our guest artists, it seems to be a fairly consistent within the art world in Peru. I shall attempt to comment, critique, and praise the following artists...

Jorge Miyagui, left: "Llapa", right: "Alerta"

One of our professors met Jorge Miyagui at an art show some years past and has to a large extent been our main contact in Lima. He was so kind to not only connect our group to these artists, but to join us on each venture to meet the artists. Jorge says he doesn't think about his work while he's making it, but makes connections after the matter. I'm not sure to what extent I believe that - perhaps he may not be conscious of the way in which he uses images and such, but I think it's a process of his synthesis of visual and material culture of Peru, Japan (his ancestory and a considerable component in Peruvian history), and the US (thanks to globalization and other factors). For instance, PokeMan makes an appearance in a lot of his earlier work. My favorite piece of his I saw was "Llapa" (above, left), which speaks strongly to the social conditions of Peruvians. The image of the condor tied to the bull on the far left depicts an indigenous tradition (I'm still a little confused about it); the far left represents the story of the saint, Santiago Killer of Indians (same saint: Santiago Killer of Moors) in the modern context of Peru's dirty wars, trampling on a war victim, presumably indigenous; lastly the middle figure represents the aspect of transition Peru is attempting to make. One must question to what are they transitioning and to whose betterment? Is not Peru still a classist, even racist society, which neocapitalism (as we know it) continues to perpetuate?

Mauricio Delgado, left: "El Ekeko Atlas", right: "Mamá Macha"

Mauricio Delgado was the first artist with whom we met, immediately after visiting the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) exhibition at the Museo de la Nación. The first group of work he presented took the images from the TRC's exhibition (which were a compilation of images from newspapers and magazines of Peru) and painted them on floral upholstry (seen in "Mamá Macha" that shows mothers holding photos of their missing children from the dirty wars). I thought this was a beautiful - figurative and literal - way to allude to social strata in Peru. Images of mothers from Ayacucho juxtaposed on fabric used by Limean middle class creates a sweet but tragic composition and recollection of Peru's recent and present history.

I also adored Mauricio's "El Ekeko" series, including "El Ekeko Atlas." Ekeko's are Andean figurines that symbolize luck and fortune - but only if given to someone (meaning you will not receive luck and fortune if you keep it for yourself - throw back to gift societies perhaps?). His description of "El Ekeko Atlas" was a bit comedic, though mostly tragic; translation: "he's the Atlas Ekeko because the weight of dreams in Peru are so heavy," a comment that puts privilege into perspective.

Both Mauricio and Jorge belong to La Brigada Muralista, a group of artists who paint murals throughout Lima.

Javi Vargas Sotomayor, clockwise from top left: "Farrah-Amaru", "Dina-Amaru", "Frida Amaru", and "Marilyn-Amaru" from La Falsificación de las Túpac

The art of Javi Vargas Sotomayor is especially subversive when considering the political and religious enivorns of Peru. Javi critiques gender constructs in La Falsificación de las Túpac by superimposing campy makeup and female faces on mostly male figures important to Peru's history. History lesson: Túpac Amaru was the last Inca ruler and was beheaded by the Spanish in 1572 for helping to murder priests in Vilcabamba - a crime he likely did not commit. He remains an important cultural figure to indigenous people in Peru.* Back on the topic of gender, pre-Hispanic culture in Peru did not construct gender identification so rigidly as we presently understand it - gender was more fluid. I thought his show was amazing and I applaud him for making such a statement in a socially and politically conservative country such as Peru, though I wonder to what extent he perpetuates the modern/post-Hispanic constructs of gender with the hypersexual representation of men and women in the show. Something for him to think about...

Alfredo Marquez, left: "Mao", right: "Babel of Paradise"

The previous three artists are from the same generation, perhaps just a few years older than I am (which naturally makes me feel underaccomplished, as per usual). Alfredo Marquez, on the other hand, is perhaps a decade or so their senior, and has experienced the atrocities of Peru's dirty wars first hand. In 1994 the Peruvian military (under the government of Fujimori) stormed his house and found an image of Mao, comparable to the image above, leading Alfredo to be charged and sentenced for 20 years in prison for allegedly supporting the group Shining Path (a Maoist group in Peru, see prior post). He was released in 1998 when his case was finally made - that the image of Mao was subversive not only in that he dared to make an image of Mao, but that he dared to paint Mao's lips red, "as if he were a prostitute" - Alfredo likely would have been threatened or killed by the Shining Path, had the group remained strong, for such an act of defacement. Though he served 4 years in a maximum security prison, and given only 30 minutes a day to spend outside of his cramped cell, his spirit was and remains remarkably unbroken. I consider myself very fortunate to have met him.

"Babel of Paradise" explores aspects of capitalism and communism and their effects on Peruvian and global society. A neat and tidy description of the layers: Tatlin's Tower (commemorated the Third Communist International in Russia) rises out of the traditional mythical image of the Tower of Babel, which rises out of the ruins of New York's Twin Towers, surrounded by the ruins of Lima's own buildings bombed by the Shining Path (just a few blocks from my hotel in the neighborhood of Miraflores in fact). The woman in the image should be familiar to anyone who reads the news - she (Specialist Lynndie England) is convicted of abuse of prisoners in Abu Ghraib. Alfredo had an interesting take on her, commenting that she, just like many Americans, joined the military in order to go to college and make a better life for herself. As represented in the painting, she, as with us all, depend on unstable, decrepit hegemonic foundations that help shape our perceptions and actions, including our most malevolent ones. I don't think he was trying to forgive her, more that he was making a statement about there being larger forces than those of a few individuals.

My my, this is rather long. I'll end it now in hopes to continue later. Adios for now...

*additional information that actually reflects the show: Túpac Amaru II created a rebellion against the Spanish in 1780. He suffered an even worse death than his namesake - he had to witness the death of his loved ones, suffered a failed attempt at quartering, had his tongue cut out, and was then beheaded.

vandalism.

When people ask what I'm doing in Peru, I tell them I'm studying the politics of Peru via the art produced in the country, I normally get a slightly confused look from my audience. I could make massive generalizations, but in sum I think those in the US of A normally don't associate politics and art beyond propaganda posters. Of course, a lot of art is political under a broader understanding of what "political" means - art that broaches social, gender, economic, labor, etc. issues. Art that goes beyond being art for the sake of art.

The art we are seeing in Peru presents these various aforementioned issues, but universally the artists we have met address the violence produced by groups such as the Shining Path and MRTA, as well as by the Peruvian government and military (especially under the presidency/dictatorship of Fujimori who is currently imprisoned for war crimes), in one way or another. While the nation acknowledges the atrocities committed by the prior, not everyone admits the government also committed atrocious acts, and if they do, they are considered the unfortunate byproducts necessary to eradicate such groups as the Shining Path. These "excesses" by the military being that of torture, rape, and murder of many innocent people.

One of the forms of addressing war crimes and the suffering of innocent Peruvians (a large majority - roughly 70% - of those directly affected lived in the Andes) is through public memorials and monuments, such as El Ojo que Llora (The Eye that Cries). El Ojo que Llora is a beautiful, meditative monument that includes tens of thousands of small stones on which are written the names, ages, and year of death of people killed during Peru's "dirty war" (they are in the process of carving them, as the ink is fading). These stones form a path around a sculpture that cries, or mourns, for the dead. Tangent interjection: this symbolic gesture is fairly obvious, but I see a second reading of a breast attempting to nurse a broken nation...

Naturally, dissent occurs under the form of vandalism and the monument was defaced by supporters of Fujimori (the color orange is used by Fujimori's party). Though it saddens my heart to see it - that people choose to remain so ignorant of political abuses, in some ways I think it's appropriate to be reminded of the pervasive ignorance and denial that remains within Peru (though applicable to any nation really).

El Ojo que Llora

the eye (breast) - water was not running that day, but you can see the mineral deposits left by the water, as well as the remaining orange paint from the vandalism

stones with carved names

orange paint from vandalism and the remnents of stones with ink inscriptions

a mural about human rights, also vandalized

(re)presentation of lima.

¡Hola amigas! Estoy aqui en Lima. And let me tell you, I need to brush up on my supposed "knowledge" of Spanish.

As previously posted, Sunday was a long day, and it wasn't until the 13th that I was able to see Lima beyond the heavily tinted glass of our car ride to the hotel. Our first day was really about the (re)presentation of Lima. That's right, guided tour, big bus, florescent visors. I jest, I jest, no visors, but we did scuttle about in a big group to see Plaza Mayor (seat of both government and religion - which is interesting in that the two share the same public space), the catacombs under the church of San Francisco, and Parque del Amor. As with any guided tour, it's definitely pick-and-choose, alluding to the curious combination of what (certain) locals think you want to see and what they want you to see. Not to delegitimize any of the aforementioned places - just interesting that other places weren't included. Guess that might come down to time and Lima traffic (chaotic).

La Catedral in Plaza Mayor was especially fascinating in its construction. Unlike the majority of cathedrals, which are built in masonry of some sort, this was actually built in wood. This is very unusual for a building this large and from this time period. The guide told it was to counter earthquakes, though I wonder if it was also due to the lack of knowledge of local material (on the European's part that is), as Andean civilizations had built extremely sturdy constructions out of stone.

I'm also crazy about local artisanship (from anywhere), and I was happy to find in the church the following. I'm really intrigued by the representation of saints, disciples, and such with long necks.




The day came to a close with dinner and multiple performances of Peruvian dances. Imagine a luau - it was a bit like that (tourists UNITE!), except we had a buffet rather than a roasted pig. The dancers were amazing, but having no prior knowledge of the traditional dances in Peru, one wonders how stylized, how exoticized, and how eroticized the dances were. For me, the Amazonian dance was especially hard to watch. It felt more interpretative than the others - interpretations dependent on how Amazonians are portrayed in society.

More could be said, but I'm exhausted, again, and we don't want that, again (see prior post). I'll leave you with this.

Plaza de San Francisco

houston.

So, let me tell you a few things about my time in Houston. I arrived on an overnight flight - the kind that you're supposed to sleep on (though I know no difference - yes, you know me and my sleeping habits). Yet, apparently I can't sleep through the piercing noise of screaming children. Maybe it's my maternal instinct, maybe it's said child sat immediately behind me, regardless, I was pulling an all-nighter come our arrival in Houston 6am central time.

In my infinite wisdom (though not regret), instead of passing out, I decided to spend my day in Houston. Which was wonderful, besides nearly throwing up on one of many Matisse paintings in the Menil Collection. Guess I just can't handle my exhaustion anymore. Seriously, I already looked like a vagrant dragging all my carry-on items with me, but nevertheless was thisclose to passing out on one of the plush benches.

Anyway, photos weren't allowed within the museums (Menil, Rothko Chapel, and the Byzantine Chapel - the last my absolute favorite), otherwise I would have captured the beautiful, but dizzying floors that gave me vertigo in the Menil, or the cool, dark beauty of the Byzantine Chapel. Instead, you get the muggy outdoors.

The Menil Collection, Renzo Piano

Broken Obelisk, Barnett Newman (UWers - familiar?), outside the Rothko Chapel

enclosed courtyard, Byzantine Chapel, François de Menil