Archive for July 2007

Urban Art: Fun To Look At

Chilean professor Pedro Celedón studies arte publico and spoke on that subject last week in Paraguay. But before he could talk about artistic interventions in urban space, he started by speaking of The City, with the way it’s changed since the industrial revolution as a major transformation that must have ramifications for art. Prior to the industrial revolution the city was, universally, a civilizing space (i.e. by going to it, walking among the temples, participating in rituals) individuals and peoples became civilized. Even the word “civilization” comes from the word “city.” These functions as ritualistic, political, and religious centers sharply diminished with the industrial revolution, however. With the growth of factories, the city became a site of economic production. And this, so-and-so says, has effected the visual performance of a city (walled enclaves, non-existent public gathering places).
And so, the interventions of urban artists are all the more disruptive. And, to me, all the more important because they are a way that individuals reassert themselves in a homogenizing, sterile environment. Also, I think it’s pretty.
(All images are from Porto Alegre)
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Yaguaron's Fiesta Patronal (or, Cowboys Everywhere)

Yag me in balco
What for many of us might have been a childhood fascination, historian Richard Slatta has admirably turned into a career: studying cowboys and bandits. The gaucho, before recently referring to capri pants, was the South American cowboy of the Pampas, the vast fertile expanse that is Argentina . Although now romanticized in literature of the southern cone, the gaucho was seen as a ne'er-do-well (or, in academic speak, as a "social criminal") who was lazy because the land he roamed was so productive that he didn't have to work to get his food. Purported indolence morphed into intransigence and disrespect for non-horse-handy urbanite ruling classes and gauchos were generally eliminated through outright combat or through changing legal codes (for example, anti-vagrancy laws that required people to have proof of employment).
Some cowboy-ish behavior must have survived, however, based on Christine's activity du jour.
Yaguaron was originally established as a Franciscan mission in 1586 into which native communities were "reduced" (i.e. organized and relocated). This weekend isn't just Bastille Day, itís the weekend of the feast of the patron saint. So, what happens is that the people construct a make-shift wooden colosseum in which a rodeo-of-sorts takes place for three days. This involves toreros lassoing bulls, clowns doing dare-devil tricks with the bulls (and any unfortunate dog that manages to stray into the pit), and little children competing in a dance-off with great gusto to the polka band which plays nearly non-stop. Yes: Polka. Mostly in Guaraní.
The dudes who own a bunch of cattle sacrifice at least one a day to feed everyone. I still haven't figured out how they decide whose turn it is, but I did get specially invited by this yearís lucky guy to sit in the palco (their "balcony" or boxed seats) and partake of the family stash of Brahma (a Paraguayan pilsner). He explained that while those in the palcos have to pay (although no one ever asked me for money... I was the norteamericana who quickly became associated with the local elite... I guess 'cause I sat with them), underneath the palcos people can stand and peer through the slats for free. There's a free raffle for Those Who Stand where one of them will win a young cow or bull, as an instance of poverty-reduction.
This is an interesting example of the redistribution of wealth and yet the maintenance of class power even through doing that. It's easy to imagine this kind of event taking place a century ago, with the same families in the same relationships.
Intrigued about cowboys, bandits, outlaws, and other frontier types? Do what I did. Check out Comparing Cowboys and Frontiers where Slatta looks at different cowboy types from North America to South America (the US, Mexico, Venezuela, Brazil, the northern and southern Pampas i.e., Argentina). Also Bandidos: the varieties of Latin American banditry.
Yag torero action Yag patron y toreroYag tug of bull Yag post swoopYag swoop

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Gratitude, Hospitality, Privilege, and Magical Churches

I sat in another palco the night before attending the sortija (horse races) at Yaguaron. This was at the Teatro Municipal in Asunción where the orchestra was performing Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No. 2. This piece is one of my favorite things ever. The first time I heard it , I felt like I'd found something I'd lost. And since this was a chance to hear it live, not to be missed. (N.B. This piece frickin' rules... Listen at your own peril.)
The two palcos in which I sat illustrate a key issue in this trip: the tensions between privilege, gratitude, and hospitality. It's fundamentally dishonest to act as if I don't have access to power in this country as an American, as a college graduate, and as someone who passes for a European in appearance. So, I'm wrestling with how to use that power (rather than pretend I donít have it or wallow in guilt about it). Wisdom and humility. What I've come to so far is that it's really important for me to accept whatís offered to me-- in food, in housing, in the gift of a pañuelo (the trophy scarf one of the men who successfully snatched it up in the horse race).
Paraguay is an incredibly hospitable place. And not just in terms of food and lodging (though that, too). Every time I meet someone, visit a library or archive, once I express my interest in Paraguay (I'm here to learn some Guaraní, I'm an anthropology doctoral student who'd like to do her research here), people offer whatever it is that they have: experiences, patience, tutorials in Guaraní, their relationships and connections, and tereré or mate (depending on how cold it is).
A few years ago in Mexico, a woman who works with the rural poor said, "to refuse the generosity of the poor is to make them poorer still." Or, as my host here said, "la ingratitud es el peor pecado." And I think he may be right.
Which means that I, at Yaguaron, partook of fattier "meats" than I have ever in my life. I have a cool plan for the molasses (miel de caña), though... and one that'll certainly involve as many of you as are game.
Yag grill Yag beef fatYag pig fat
Also, below this unassuming altar at Yaguaron supposedly lies a well that is so deep that it's quite literally unfathomable. It also apparently contains a tunnel in its depth whose other end is the mountain range kilometers away. This is but one example of mission myths that abound attributing all kinds of savvy tricksy undergoings to the Franciscans and the Jesuits.
Yag magical pozo
Other shots of the church:
Yag pulpit angel Yag franciscan skull Yag confessional Yag church door light

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Sapir-Whorf revisited.

After my first day of Guaraní I’ve discovered a number of very interesting things. The nasality of the language makes me giggle to myself when I hear myself try to replicate it. I’ll absolutely inflict it upon you when I return… mostly because I’m so bad at it and, you know, “pain that is not transformed is transmitted,” as one of my few spiritual gurus likes to say.

Until the 20th century, Guaraní only counted up until the number “four.” After that, they used the word “many.” In the meantime, they’ve added numbers up to a gazillion. Do you remember the article about that Brazilian tribe that only counted up to two and that some offensive/problematic-sounding study showed they weren’t so hot at math, reigniting the debate as to how the structure of our language shapes/influences/limits our capacity to understand the world? I do. Here’s one quote from the lead researchers: "Producing simple straight lines was accomplished only with great effort and concentration, accompanied by heavy sighs and groans." To me it sounds like they might have just been tired from being poked and prodded.

Talking about the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis is one of my favorite exercises in my Anth 101 classes, partially because it scandalizes the students twice. I start by having them spew out insults. Usually this produces awkward tension while someone musters up the courage to say “idiot” or “you dumbhead”—which we all know is not their usual word choice. When I ask them to notch it up to rated-R, they really squirm (although often someone gets into it and uses the customary bad words with a little too much glee). And then we look at the gendered nature of these insults and they are stunned to find how many of them have to do with insulting women.

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