The Lorax

Thursday night I went to the Museum of Antioquia for the opening of an exhibition by Paula Rincon. There are works by other artists there as well, but I spent my whole time there with her piece. There are three leaders from different indigenous tribes gathered around a fire, and surrounded by a number of symbols significant to their cultures. And they are there to talk. Wayra Chasqui (Nación Yanacuna), Asdrúbal Torres (pueblo Arhuaco) and Mauricio Gañán (pueblo Embera). I talked most with Wayra, who actually came from Ecuador. Conversing was difficult (Spanish is both his and my second language), but neither of us had a problem speaking very slowly. He spoke about the four sided symbol we were seated upon that represents the four elements, the rotation of the nine planets, the lunar cycle, functions as a calendar, indicating crop cycles, and more. He wore a similar symbol on his wrist. The fire at the center rest upon a small pile of rocks, was surrounded by water, and the room was open to the air to the wind could be felt and seen moving the fire about. Just a few symbols function as references points for every component of life for him. A rainbow banner expresses the essential unity of the variety of life. He has a small cane, with a rainbow ribbon on it, that symbolizes that he may speak on behalf of his community. He spoke of the non-violent resistance movement among the indigenous peoples here, trying to secure their land from the intrusion of a variety of groups resulting from Colombia's armed conflicts. There have been very large marches in the streets of Colombia's cities, with indigenous peoples from Colombia's eight-five distinct indigenous cultures, asking for peace and for rights, which have been met with violent force by the Colombian army. And moreover, he made a plea overall for a worldview which sees people as part of the earth, as opposed to the view where nature is to be tamed or conquered by man, its rightful master. When offered some beer by a girl next to him, he accepted, poured the beer on four different places on the fire as an offering, then had a sip. The kindness and constancy in his eyes, the calm sincerity in his voice throughout our conversation, the care he took setting and blowing on the fire, the gentleness of how he touched the sacred symbol on his wrist, all felt to me like a type of connection and engagement with the world that is worth having. When he talked about materialism resulting in detachment, I thought of Marx, and when he talked about setting up boundaries as unnaturally dividing up an essential unity, I felt hesitant for a moment about the veracity of his convictions, but from the look in his eyes, his unworried brow and creaseless forehead, it was hard for me to deny that these things really change human nature. Although this was the opening day of the exhibition and it was very crowded, I was one of less than five people who came to the center to speak with the indigenous people over the course of the night. I asked Wayra if he felt it was an unintentional metaphor created by the art piece, that he had come to speak to people about his beliefs and traditional, and people stayed on the periphery, looked in, and talked to each other, rather than come to the center to hear what he had to say and engage in a genuine dialogue. He looked sad, said nothing, and gave a slight solemn nod. I'm not so connected to the art world, but it also might be the case that people go to openings more for handshaking than for the art, and ideally return another day to really experience the work. I actually returned the next day, and talked more to Asdrubal, or 'Koki' to the people in his pueblo, a name meaning 'Senor de la noche,' because he was born at night, who was stuffing his mouth with coca leaves throughout our entire conversation. More other people stopped in on this day, most for no more than a minute, but some stayed to talk for a bit. Some took pictures with the indigenous people. One woman asked if they were being paid, Koki said they weren't, and she gave him a few pesos. One man shouted 'How!' and raised his right hand from the stairway, before approaching and asking for a picture. Koki let out a soft displeased grunt.

Friday morning I posed for half an hour for the weekly group drawing session at Taller 7. Then to the museum the second time as I mentioned. That night I went to see "...menos que caricias," based on "Caricias" by Sergei Belbel, at 'La Caja Negra,' from a group in their second to last semester at University de Antioquia. It was a work representing the psycho-sexual basis of familial relationships, and the inability to form genuine connections, using a lot of violence and strong sexual imagery. The set was a large rotating circle, with a bathtub/table in the center and a birdcage above that could be lowered. A number of interesting images were created, but I can't say I found it overall appealing. A character had two possible states, as the smirking violating perpetrator, or the weeping struggling victim. I understand the attempt to represent an 'id' like force, as irrational, ridiculous, comically-evil, relentless, and without sympathy, but I found it too silly and repetitive. The actors were also very rough with each other, actually pushing each other off the stage, hitting each other, pulling each others' hair, slapping each other. I can understand that maybe they were doing this to make the audience more uncomfortable, but I think that lack of safety creates a type of discomfort that results in detachment from the piece overall, rather than a representation of violence that would make its terror tangible. At least that was my experience. Then we went of dancing in Castilla at 'Yage.'

Saturday I went to a traditional Colombian dancing presentation from a group of University of Antioquia students, at a school in Estrella, a little outside of the city. It was an interesting cultural school event, with traditional foods, presentations by student musical groups, then finishing with the wonderful traditional dancing. They also had a young boy leading a an auction at the end. I don't think in the US we usually give children that sort of power. That night I went to two birthday parties, one for Maricella, where we went out for ice cream, and then for Viviana a house party.

Sunday I played guitar to Dr. Seuss books in the Jardin Botanica, as a part of the Colombo's section of the 'Festival de Libros.' I didn't have very large audiences, and the children didn't understand what I was singing because it was in English, despite my elaborate epic version of 'Oh, the places you'll go' and Jimi Hendrix inspired 'The Cat in the Hat,' so I started just asking kids their names, things they like, and making up songs for them. I'll only be back there one more day this coming weekend, but this is a ten day long festival, and a very large cultural event here. There's nothing really similar in the US. It's like a gigantic book fair, with representation from every publisher, book store, library, cultural center, etc. And there are loads of events for children: a circus, science experiments, sing-alongs, trucks loaded with toys in the back for kids to use, small wandering performance groups, people posing as statues all over the place, and books and books and books.

Monday I worked with actors/teachers from Nuestra Gente in the morning. It feels quite different working with actors than students in the high schools. There are much different things to focus on, and its relief not having to say 'sin hablar' or 'en silencio' every five seconds. I was glad to hear that most of the exercises were new for them as well. They are developing a piece through improvisation, without words,about people living together, or sharing space, and Thursday I'll see some of their work and do some things to contribute to its development. I worked with Circo Momo teachers in the evening, and I felt like the work accomplished there was also excellent. I'm really gaining confidence in my instincts for what is necessary to move a group forward. When things need to be said, and when things don't need to be said.