‘(In Britain) one out of seven manual workers is an immigrant’[1]. This was the opening line for ‘A seventh man’, John Berger’s book published in 1975. More than forty years later, 9.4 million people living in the UK were born abroad.[2] The migrant is indeed the emblematic figure of a rising global mobility in a context of capitalist crisis.[3] Lately, the migrant has also became a target for right-wing politicians who foster paranoid xenophobia in order to gain the electorate.
On their part, sensationalistic mainstream media and humanitarian NGO’s tend to promote consumable images in order to raise awareness about (against?) migration. Yet as argued by Giorgio Agamben, this practice can be read ‘as a form of depoliticization that ends up knowingly or unwittingly serving oppressive powers.’[4] Photographs of hundreds of people crossing borders in despair, a dead child in a beach and other catastrophic events can show victims but without making the connection with specific western policies, such as those of austerity or military intervention. In this context, the renowned Magnum photographer Chris Steele-Perkins attempts to challenge the conventional rhetoric on migration with his current exhibition ‘The New Londoners’. This work is an ambitious collection and celebration of modern multicultural Britain. During four years, Steele-Perkins searched for settled families in London with at least one member born abroad. Figure 1. Museum of Migration, [website] New Londoners Installation, Chris Steele-Perkins, Photograph, Museums of Migration. Initially, Steele-Perkins planned to cover all the nationalities recognized by the United Nations. However, nations and nationalities are not as static as they seem, ‘national borders loosen and tighten’[5] according to historical and economic contexts. Some citizens belong to countries that do not have official recognition. This complexity led Steele-Perkins to change his strategy: ‘what was a useful guide became a bit of a box ticking exercise – why rule out Chagos Island and not Palau? In the end I have photographed 164 families from around 187 countries, some, like Kurdistan have their own identity if not their own physical state.’[6] A selection of 70 prints is currently exhibited at The Museums of Migrations. The pictures are distributed around the gallery in two rows alternating landscape and portrait formats. With unframed pictures simply pinned on the wall, the display generates a welcoming feeling. A reasonable A3 size and a large depth of field provide sharp and comprehensible detail in every inch of the image. Figure 2 and 3. The New Londoners, [website] The New Londoners, Chris Steele-Perkins, Photograph. The first impression of the exhibition is quite colourful but with an elegant atmosphere. Two repetitive features help us to create a sense of unity: first, formal and pristine social spaces around people’s houses are used as the favourite location for the pictures. Second, families pose playfully in groups in front of the camera but scattered throughout the space, improving the sense of perspective. The concept of family is used in a broad sense including single parents, gay couples, extended families and groups of friends. The rhetoric of clothes, hairstyles, musical instruments and sport gadgets differentiates the personality of each member of the family. While in one picture a kid is wearing a fencing uniform and wielding his sword (South Korea, USA & Mexico), in another a drum is placed under a loft bed (Lesotho, Jamaica & South Africa). For some people wearing traditional clothes was important to emphasize their heritage, but for others posing in front of a national flag was preferred. A mix of cultural decoration, modern furniture, elegant mirrors and electronic devices speaks a lot about their backgrounds. Generally, it creates a sense of a middle class aesthetic going from modern minimalist to colourful. It is possible to argue that The New Londoners’ aesthetic might reflect the contemporary shift from national to global audiences in the art market. This can be problematic. According to some critics, what was a celebration of cultural pluralism in the art scene might be turning into a ‘one cultural form […] being ‘enforced on all’’[7]. It is clear that Steele-Perkins attempts to challenge the mediatic representation of the poor migrant who is always living in extreme conditions and shows them in similar context that a common English (white) family would live. Yet this approach might also reinforce the idea that there is one proper way to live and be considered British. Steele-Perkins, however, has included more complexity to this project by making the whole series available through a website. A friendly home page exhibits all the families’ portraits. Once you pick a family, it led you to more pictures of the same shooting. These additional photographs unmask, in some way, Steele-Perkins presence and reveal his direction of the photographic session. Also available is a friendly text describing their backgrounds, romances and their arrival to London. These features make the experience more engaging and highlight the multiples reasons and histories that there are behind a migrant. It is important to note the personal commitment of Steele-Perkins in this project. His own family’s portrait is included in the display. Steele-Perkins was born in Burma, Myanmar. His British father brought him to England at the age of two. Despite his mixed-raced origins, the father used to rail against non-white immigrants. This contraction between being loved and rejected by his own father, gave him a sense of the complexity of the British society. Although Steele-Perkins cannot recall being bullied harshly as a child, the repetitive question during his life, “Where are you from?” made him aware that somehow he was different. These sensible memories have influenced his photographic approach.[8] Through his career, Steele-Perkins has engaged with many topics going from social rituals to war. However, in contrast to the common sensationalistic approach of the mass media, he has produced thoughtful material. For instance, the photo book “Afghanistan: A Personal Homage” shows the people in their everyday life. Steele-Perkins portrayed them as human beings oppressed by the context of war. He shows them in joy, in sorrow and in ordinary events that go beyond of the stereotypical representation of Afghanistan. This respectful treatment of the other as equal is also present in The New Londoners. Bibliography Agamben G. What is an apparatus? and other essays. Stanford University Press; 2009 May 1. Berger, John and Mohr, Jean. A seventh man. London: Verso, 2010. Charlesworth, J. J., "Global versus Local." ArtReview, [website], November 2013, <artreview.com/features/november_2013_feature_global_versus_local_by_jj_charlesworth_1>. Accessed 26 April 2019. Demos, TJ. The migrant image: The art and politics of documentary during global crisis. Duke University Press, 2013. Steele-Perkins, Chris. The New Londoners, The New Londoners - an introduction by Chris Steele-Perkins [website],2019 <https://thenewlondoners.com/pages/about> Accessed 26 April 2019. UK Parliament Website, ‘Migration Statistics’, House of Commons Library [website], 11 December 2018, <https://researchbriefings.parliament.uk/ResearchBriefing/Summary/SN06077#fullreport> accessed 26 April 2019. Zarzycka, Marta. Gendered tropes in war photography: mothers, mourners, soldiers. Routledge, 2016. [1] John Berger and Jean Mohr. A seventh man. London: Verso, 2010. p 16 [2] UK Parliament Website, ‘Migration Statistics’, House of Commons Library [website], 11 December 2018, <https://researchbriefings.parliament.uk/ResearchBriefing/Summary/SN06077#fullreport> accessed 26 April 2019. [3] J. J. Charlesworth, "Global versus Local." ArtReview, [website], November 2013, <artreview.com/features/november_2013_feature_global_versus_local_by_jj_charlesworth_1>. Accessed 26 April 2019. [4] Cited by TJ Demos in Demos, T. J. The migrant image: The art and politics of documentary during global crisis. Duke University Press, 2013. [5] Marta Zarzycka, Gendered tropes in war photography: mothers, mourners, soldiers. Routledge, 2016. [6] Chris Steele-Perkins, The New Londoners, The New Londoners - an introduction by Chris Steele-Perkins [website],2019 <https://thenewlondoners.com/pages/about> Accessed 26 April 2019 [7] JJ. Charlesworth, Global versus Local. ArtReview, November 2013, <https://artreview.com/features/november_2013_feature_global_versus_local_by_jj_charlesworth_1/>, Accessed 26 April 2019. [8] Chris Steele-Perkins, op.cit.
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Figure 1. Salgado, Sebastian, photographer. “[Bolivia 1983, Other Americas, Aperture Foundation, 1983, 23] Photograph, Salgado, Sebastian, et al, 1986. Figure 2. Blast, Delphin, photographer. “[Cholitas: The revenge of a Generation, ReVista (Cambridge), 2015,] Photograph, Blast, Delphin. 2017. https://www.lensculture.com/articles/delphine-blast-cholitas-the-revenge-of-a-generation#slideshow (accessed in January 3, 2019) Cholas, women dressed in a ‘traditionally indigenous’ outfit, are arguably the most iconic visual symbol of Bolivia’s identity. They have been historically stereotyped as the emblematic representation of the country’s indigenous population by the mainstream media.[1] Yet the meaning attached to their representation has changed substantially in the last years. In particular, the colonial association of Cholas with poverty has been challenged by a variety of photographic essays, exhibitions, documentaries and other artistic and academic interventions.[2] The aim has been to reflect their more prosperous current position with a new (neo-colonial) visual representation as ‘empowered’. While there might be a change in the focus of the visual signs, I argue that the stereotyping process remains. The aim of this essay is therefore to suggest that contemporary representations of the Bolivian Chola go a long with the fixation on indigenous stereotypes, be these of a colonial or neo-colonial type.
In order to do this, I will compare and examine two pictures taken by international photographers that represent both forms of representation. The first one is a black and white photograph took by the first class socio documentary photographer Sebastian Salgado called ‘Bolivia. 1983’, which was included in his 1986 book ‘Other Americas’.[3] The second one is a colour portrait took by the French documentary photographer Delphine Blast that is part of a series of photographs called ‘Cholitas: ‘The Revenge of a Generation’’,[4] published in 2016. These photographs provide a good opportunity to look at some stereotypical elements used by western image-makers. Before examining the photographs, I provide a brief genealogy of ‘indigenous’ women’s identity in the Bolivian racial imaginary and its connection with the stereotyping process of the colonial discourse following the distinctive work of Homi Bhabha. As in the rest of Latin America, the Bolivia’s identity place has been usually uncertain. The Latin American philosopher, Nestor Garcia Canclini, described Latin America’s unclear position as being always fluctuating between the West and the East world, between underdevelopment and modernity, and between its Indigenous and European past.[5] Canclini situated the origin of this contradictory condition in the particularities of our colonial past, where different cultures, powers and ways to see the world clashed. Despite the continent functioned as the space to extract minerals to feed western economy, many conflicts and power disputes between conquers and Indigenous had influenced and shaped our current societies. Since those times, Indigenous people were incorporated in a global political system in a very coercive but complex manner.[6] These conflictive relations are usually dismissed in a permanent representation of indigenous women as victims and objects of anthropological and ethnographic studies. Under the idea of phenotypic variation of the body as a signifier of race, an apparatus of segregation was implemented;[7] in the way described by Stuart Hall as a “dominant regiments of representation” by “a critical exercise of cultural power and normalisation.”[8] From chroniclers, explorers, to contemporary critics, indigenous are continually depicted as people with an exotic appearance and childish attitude, thus incapables of managing their own future.[9] These narratives justify the continuous economic, social and political marginalization of indigenous women by the elites.[10] In this context, the complex ‘indigenous’ women identity has been hidden by a victimized image associated only with her reproductive role. According to Sara Guengerich, it is difficult, if not impossible, to encapsulate native women in a single role during the colonial times. Through a comparative study of archival documents from the 16th and 17th century, Guengerich shows “indigenous” women performing a variety of roles “such us buying, selling and renting lands, claiming inheritances, protecting their dowries, becoming market vendors, businesswomen, and even slave-owners.”[11] However, Guengerich points out that some re-interpretations of colonial texts have simplified the role of these women as passive reproductive objects under constant oppression.[12] Decontextualized repetition of phrases like “imbecilitas sexus” or “invalid(s) in the eyes of the law” [13] have generated an idea of a monolithic patriarchal colonialism. That repetition created a long-suffering woman and caring mom as a central character in modern and contemporary literature, films, theatre and publicity.[14] This stereotyped identity of the Chola can still be found in modern and contemporary photography as I will show. According to Homi Bhabha, one of the ‘strategic’ devices of the ‘colonial discourse’ is the stereotype, which works as an ideological apparatus.[15] The stereotyping process produces social differentiations in a hierarchical society through the rhetoric of signs. These differentiations are based on “cultural/historical/racial difference(s)”[16] that are used to characterise a group of people as the different, as the ‘other’. From this theoretical perspective, the Chola is differentiated from the rest of women by her clothes. As Chola’s outfit is directly associated with an indigenous background. It can be argued that the fixation in her clothes is a device of the colonial discourse to fix Chola’s identity as indigenous, thus the ‘other’. This reductionism-Chola equals indigenous- is a good illustration of what Bhabha calls the “colonial fantasy… that dramatizes the impossible desire for a pure, undifferentiated origin.”[17] Furthermore, the assignation of the indigenous role to the Chola, with all the concomitant stereotypes described before, creates the fantasy for the rest of the population of having a non-indigenous background. With these considerations in mind, I now turn to examine the photographs. Figure 1. Salgado, Sebastian, photographer. “[Bolivia 1983, Other Americas, Aperture Foundation, 1983, 23] Photograph, Salgado, Sebastian, et al, 1986. Sebastian Salgado’s work has been largely feted and criticized by curators and academics from around the world, but especially by the west public.[18] Black and white photographs masterly produced through long-term projects covering social conflicts and struggles of the modern life characterise his work.[19] The selected photograph is called ‘Bolivia, 1983’ [20] and is part of the Photo book ‘Other Americas’ produced from 1977 to 1986. Through the book, Salgado seeks to introduce us to rural areas in various countries of the continent including Brazil, Chile, Mexico, Peru, Ecuador, Guatemala and Bolivia. Sebastian Salgado’s work in ‘Other Americas’ was presented as an attempt to show timeless indigenous communities threatened by a fast modernization.[21] The photographer explained that, while working on those areas, he felt as he was in “a trip seven centuries back in time to observe, unrolling before me … all the flow of different cultures, so similar in their beliefs, losses and sufferings.”[22] Indeed, frozen characters surrounded by mystical landscapes appear to be correlative with his claims. A sense of mysterious poverty and poetic misery is noticeable throughout the book, partly accomplished by the used of black and white. A large range of tonalities from deep dark to pure light are used in carefully enhanced images to impress the eye from the central figures to the whole picture.[23] Salgado argues that his aesthetical approach allows his photographs to be universal and to connect different realities under one discourse that avoids stereotypical views.[24] However, some critics of this work have stated that the universal environment that he creates could be interpreted as a deliberate emptying of socio-political content of such characters in order to satisfy the western art-market.[25] In the particular case of ‘Bolivia 1983’, the photograph shows a woman and a small kid in the highlands of the country. Although the two characters placed in the foreground are looking to each other, we can only appreciate the boy’s face. Clearly highlighted, his face holding a nervous smile while looking towards the woman is the focus of the photograph. The woman figure has been obscured to the point that it is difficult to distinguish her face from her clothes. Even if we cannot assert that they are part of the same family, the gaze of the child may be interpreted as if there was a bond between them. Indigenous women portrayed as virtuous and maternal is one of the most exploited topics in colonial representations, as already noted.[26] From the silhouette of the female figure, we are able to notice a hat and a mantilla,[27] both traditionally wore by Andean Cholas. In contrast, the kid is wearing a beanie hat and a coat, pretty modern clothes. Following Salgado’s logic, these contrasting outfits can be read as the inevitable encounter of different worlds. However, Chola’s clothes are nowadays used in a different representation as it will be discussed in the second photograph. Given that the woman’s image is the darkest part of the picture, it can be argued that she is also dismissed as a subject. For instance, her nose and cheekbone are shown as complete black silhouettes, which is inconsistent with the light that the child face holds. As it is noted by Owens, in a patriarchal system of representation, women are allowed to be represented only “as object or figure for—a representation of—the unrepresentable (Nature, Truth, the Sublime, etc.)” and not as a subject.[28] Following this argument, it is possible to say that Salgado is trying to use her presence as a representation of the passive indigenous world which is condemned to disappear by the almighty modernity. From behind the woman and the child, a train track goes into the hills disrupting the natural context of the background. Just over the hill, where the train tracks vanished, it is also possible to distinguish an electric tower. These elements may be read as threats to the pristine indigenous realm. Another scholar, John Mraz, pointed out that Salgado applied the language of modern alienation of the developed world -despair, isolation and detachment- in an exotic context.[29] A barren landscape with a deep sense of emptiness and sadness seems to surround the kid and the woman. The lack of a clear expression in the child’s face confronted with the mysterious feminine figure produce a sense of loneliness on the characters. As mentioned previously, Bhabha states that stereotyping is a very “complex, ambivalent, contradictory mode of representation”[30] grounded fundamentally in the contradiction of rejection and desire, ‘disavowal and fetish’.[31] The stereotyped group is fetishized under a fixed, repetitive and contradictory discourse, which cannot be empirically proved. The idea of the emptiness of the Andes is another mystical fantasy. Before the colony, the Andes were already a populated zone in constant communication with different parts of the continent. Furthermore, in colonial times the Andes became the centre of the mining activity as around 60% of all the silver extracted came from the mines in Potosi. In fact, around 1625, the city of Potosi was at one of the most densely populated in the world, only behind Paris and Istanbul.[32] Figure 2. Blast, Delphin, photographer. “[Cholitas: The revenge of a Generation, ReVista (Cambridge), 2015,] Photograph, Blast, Delphin. 2017. https://www.lensculture.com/articles/delphine-blast-cholitas-the-revenge-of-a-generation#slideshow (accessed in January 3, 2019) Over the past two decades, many artists and researchers have turned their attention to the Bolivian Chola. This might reflect a broader social process of transformation that led to the election of Evo Morales as the country’s first president of an ‘indigenous’ origin. Delphine Blast is one of those artists. Her work had a lot of coverage on mainstream media and reached the art market of some European countries.[33] Like Blast, other artists and intellectuals have been trying to cast light on the Chola character by producing new portrayals of her identity that challenge the colonial representation. Generally, there has been a replacement of the traditional de-saturated and terracotta tonalities to an explosion of bright contrasting colours in this new imaginary. Urban environments and kitsch architecture substituted arid and rural landscapes. Anonymous Cholas are now shown in new roles: bus driver, teacher, builder, news presenter and models.[34] Blast describes her work as an attempt: “to renew insight into Bolivian womanhood. New identity affirmations reflect the social changes in the country.”[35] The absence of captures on her portraits implies than the author is more interested on the general character than on the individual, which establishes a direct interpellation to the colonial construction of the Chola. In 2016, this French documentary photographer presented the photo essay entitled: ‘Cholitas, the revenge of a generation’. The cover page portrait is the one selected for the purposes of this essay. In the photograph, the Cholita is presented in a medium shoot looking straight to the camera. This format enables the spectator to appreciate the presence of the woman and also to capture close detail. The carefully frontal pose towards the camera gives the Cholita a solemn attitude, different from the high angle of Salgado’s photograph. A circular frame within a square medium format concentrates all our attention into the subject, popping out Cholita’s red outfit. The centred and symmetrical composition with a consistent green circular background produces a perfect balance with the high contrasted use of colour into the image. The young and feminine face, which is the focus of the picture, introduces a fresh air into the striking colours making the photograph very pleasant to the eye. Overall, the greyish and mysterious Chola of the Salgado’s photograph seems to be challenged. The press and critics have praised Blast’s photo essay in this regard. To introduce her photographs, for example, National Geographic said: “Bolivia’s cholitas, with their bowler hats and layered skirts, were once targets of discrimination. Now this fashion is a source of pride.”[36] Beyond its innovative portrayal of the Bolivian Chola, a closer examination reveals the persistency of the stereotyping process but in a neo-colonial form. Cholitas are still the indigenous other. Indeed, it is claimed by Blast that the colourful outfit -obscured in Salgado’s photograph- is exposed in vivid colours and with a lot of detail to highlight Cholita’s pride in their indigenous background.[37] Besides, she also adds that the red background is inspired by the colours of the whipala, a flag considered to be an indigenous symbol. And the round shape is interpreted by Blast as a signifier of a mother earth.[38] All these elements reflect the repetitive discourse of Cholas as pure indigenous. As was established in the beginning, the reduction of the indigenous to one homogenising group identifiable by its external characteristics goes along with the stereotyping process of the colonial discourse. The celebration of Cholita’s clothes as a form of resistance seems to be a new way of fixing their identity as indigenous and, conversely, to negate them as modern individuals with a constantly changing identity.[39] This is not to welcome that women can feel well, and even proud, about the way they dress. It worth noting that the election of wearing these clothes is a personal decision. Nowadays in Bolivia, one can find women that were raised wearing modern clothes and have decided to wear as a Chola in their mature age, just as one can find daughters of Cholas that decide to leave the tradition. The issue, rather, is whether this renewed celebration is been used to perpetuate hierarchical social relations. An unintended effect of Blast’s photo essay can be the reinforcement of the stereotype that can position these women in a vulnerable spot. By emphasising clothes as markers of otherness, the work risks falling into a long tradition of the ‘politics of clothing’ in the country. Since colonial times, the rhetoric of clothes has been used to gain social status in Bolivia.[40] The adoption, imitation, transformation, and distortion of European clothes were used to break the constants boundaries that the elites were creating in order to distinguish themselves from the ‘others’. Interestingly, there was a time when Chola’s clothes were actually used by segments of the elite as symbols of urban society. Not to mention that the wife of the 26th President of Bolivia, Gregorio Pacheco (1884-1888), was portrayed dressing as a Chola.[41] Yet when these clothes were adopted by migrant and peasant women, it led to a re-signification of these by the elites as an undesirable style. Given that the elite’s identity has been constructed by a constant mirroring with the mythical subjugated -the indigenous-, avoiding these clothes eventually became a marker of non-indigenous identity. Lastly, the title of Blast’s series reveals another stereotyping element. Notice that Cholita is the diminutive of Chola. This is not random. It is a politically correct way to refer to a Chola, a term that continues to possess a pejorative connotation. The word Cholita appeared in the 18th century when these women were employed in domestic service by local elites. It was part of a group of paternalistic expressions towards them including ‘daughter’ or ‘girl’ regardless of their actual age or state of maturity. This patronizing view of the indigenous as children goes in line with Paul Verhaeghe statement: “stereotypes have one thing in common: they serve to make us feel superior.”[42] It can also be argued that the second part of the title -the revenge of a generation- suggests a novelty that may well be fictitious. As discussed above, previous generations of Cholas were not simply subalterns, they were economically and politically active. They were involved in social struggle and some even formed a radical anarchist group in 1935, they were revengeful throughout history. This essay tried to show that Chola’s contemporary visual proposal is still stereotyping them as the indigenous other. Through a comparison and analysis of Sebastian Salgado and Delphin Blast photographs, I attempted to exemplify two types of common representations that I labelled colonial and neo-colonial. The examination demonstrated that Salgado’s picture dismissed the Chola as a subject. Her symbolic presence was used to characterize the indigenous realm. In doing so her identity was fixed as a passive indigenous whose agency is neglected. On the other hand, the contemporary portrait by Delphin Blast challenged that colonial discourse by highlighting Cholita’s presense. She allows us to get closer and visualize the woman with detail. Vibrant and contrasting colours have replaced the greyish and dark landscapes. However, the fixation on Cholita’s outfit, as a distinctive mark of her indigeneity, may be considered a neo-colonial dispositive to keep her identity as the other. Besides, there is a risk that the patronizing attitude that consider indigenous as children, might be reproduced in the title. These colonial and neo-colonial representations underpin a fixation on stereotypes that continue to subjugate the Chola identity. Bibliography Aguiló, Ignacio. "Visuality, Coloniality and Modernism in the Gran Chaco: Assessing Grete Stern's Indigenous Photographs." Journal of Latin American Cultural Studies 24, no. 2 (2015): Arguedas, Alcides. Pueblo enfermo. (The sick people) Ediciones Ercilla, 1937; Barragán, Rossana. “Entre polleras, lliqllas y ñañacas. Los mestizos y la emergencia de la tercera república”. Arze, Silvia, et al. Etnicidad, economía y simbolismo en los Andes: II congreso internacional de etnohistoria. Coroico. Lima: Institut français d’études andines, 1992. (pp. 85-127) Web. http://books.openedition.org/ifea/2290 Barrera, Juan. "Me avergüenzan tus polleras." Un humilde origen para una amarga realidad (1998). Blast, Delphine. "Cholitas: The Revenge of a Generation." ReVista (Cambridge) 16, no. 3 (2017): 48-82. Galeano, Eduardo. "Las venas abiertas de Latinoamérica." Santiago de Chile: Catálogos (1997). Guengerich, Sara. "Indigenous Andean Women in Colonial Textual Discourses." (Phd diss., University of New Mexico, 2009), https://digitalrepository.unm.edu/span_etds/20 Hall, Stuart. "Cultural identity and diaspora." In Diaspora and visual culture, pp. 35-47. Routledge, 2014. Homi, K. "Bhabha.“The Other Question: Difference, Discrimination and the Discourse of Colonialism.”." Screen 24, no. 6 (1983): 18-36. Keefe, Alexa “These Women Rock Indigenous Clothes to Reclaim Their History,” accessed December 20, 2018. https://www.nationalgeographic.com/photography/proof/2016/11/portraits-of-bolivia-s-cholitas-celebrate-fashion-and-heritage/ Mraz, John. "Sebastião Salgado: Ways of Seeing Latin America." Third Text 16, no. 1 (2002): 15-30. Nair, Parvati. A different light: The photography of Sebastiao Salgado. Duke University Press, 2011, 1. Néstor Canclini, Hybrid cultures: Strategies for entering and leaving modernity. U of Minnesota Press, 2005, p 46; Mari Carmen Ramírez, "Beyond “the Fantastic” Framing Identity in US Exhibitions of Latin American Art." Art Journal 51, no. 4 (1992). Newman, Rachel. "Primitivism and Identity in Latin America: The Appropriation of Indigenous Cultures in 20th-Century Latin American Art." (2015). Orr, Guillian “Brazilian photographer Sebastião Salgado captures the essence of a continent in his series Other Americas,” accessed on December 30, 2018. https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/photography/brazilian-photographer-sebasti-o-salgado-captures-the-essence-of-a-continent-in-his-series-other-10487443.html Owens, Craig. "The discourse of others: Feminists and postmodernism." The anti-aesthetic: Essays on postmodern culture (1985): 57-82. Poole, Deborah. Vision, race, and modernity: A visual economy of the Andean image world. Princeton University Press, 1997, p 155-157. The author shows an early classification of the Cholas under the title: Bolivians, in an album donated to the Geographic Society of Paris in 1885. Riding, Alan “Faces of the other Americas,” accessed on December 30, 2018. https://www.nytimes.com/1986/09/07/magazine/faces-of-the-other-americas.html Salgado, Sebastião, Léila Wanick Salgado, Claude Nori, Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, Alan Riding, Gregory Dechant, and Molly Stevens. Other Americas. Aperture Foundation, 2015. Sassen, Saskia. "Black and white photography as theorizing: seeing what the eye cannot see." In Sociological Forum, vol. 26, no. 2, pp. 438-443. Oxford, UK: Blackwell Publishing Ltd, 2011. Sischy, Ingrid. "Photography: good intentions." The New Yorker 9 (1991): 89-95. Soruco Sologuren, Ximena. "Colloquium Mestizajes and social ascent in Bolivia." Tinkazos 15 (2012): 9-24. The Guardian “The rise of Bolivia’s indigenous 'cholitas' – in pictures,” accessed December 20, 2018. https://www.theguardian.com/world/gallery/2018/feb/22/rise-bolivia-indigenous-cholitas-in-pictures TJ Clark, “Commentary,” in Migrations: The Work of Sebastião Salgado. ed. Christina M. Gillis, 23-26. Berkeley: The Regents of the University of California and the Doreen B. Townsend Center for the Humanities, 2002. Verhaeghe, Paul. "What about me?: the struggle for identity in a market." (2012). World Press Photo “The Flying Cholitas, Goddesses of the…,” accessed December 20, 2018. https://www.worldpressphoto.org/collection/photo/2011/arts-and-entertainment/daniele-tamagni [1] Deborah Poole, Vision, race, and modernity: A visual economy of the Andean image world. Princeton University Press, 1997, p 155-157. The author shows an early classification of the Cholas under the title: Bolivians, in album donated to the Geographic Society of Paris in 1885. [2] See, for example: “The Flying Cholitas, Goddesses of the…,” World Press Photo, accessed December 20, 2018. https://www.worldpressphoto.org/collection/photo/2011/arts-and-entertainment/daniele-tamagni ; “These Women Rock Indigenous Clothes to Reclaim Their History,” Keefe, Alexa, accessed December 20, 2018. https://www.nationalgeographic.com/photography/proof/2016/11/portraits-of-bolivia-s-cholitas-celebrate-fashion-and-heritage/ [3] Sebastião Salgado, Léila Wanick Salgado, Claude Nori, Gonzalo Torrente Ballester, Alan Riding, Gregory Dechant, and Molly Stevens. Other Americas. Aperture Foundation, 2015. [4] Delphine Blast, "Cholitas: The Revenge of a Generation." ReVista (Cambridge) 16, no. 3 (2017): 48-82. [5] Néstor Canclini, Hybrid cultures: Strategies for entering and leaving modernity. U of Minnesota Press, 2005, p 46; Mari Carmen Ramírez, "Beyond “the Fantastic” Framing Identity in US Exhibitions of Latin American Art." Art Journal 51, no. 4 (1992), p 61. [6] Eduardo Galeano, "Las venas abiertas de Latinoamérica." (Open veins of Latin America: Five centuries of the pillage of a continent) Santiago de Chile: Catálogos (1997). [7] Ignacio Aguiló, "Visuality, Coloniality and Modernism in the Gran Chaco: Assessing Grete Stern's Indigenous Photographs." Journal of Latin American Cultural Studies 24, no. 2 (2015): 226; Poole, Vision, race, and modernity, 167-175. [8] Stuart Hall, "Cultural identity and diaspora." In Diaspora and visual culture, pp. 35-47. Routledge, 2014. 225 [9] Rachel Newman, "Primitivism and Identity in Latin America: The Appropriation of Indigenous Cultures in 20th-Century Latin American Art." (2015), 7-8. [10] Poole, Vision, race, and modernity, 16. [11] Guengerich, Sara. "Indigenous Andean Women in Colonial Textual Discourses." (Phd diss., University of New Mexico, 2009), https://digitalrepository.unm.edu/span_etds/20, 186. [12] Ibid, 4-7. [13] Guengerich, "Indigenous Andean Women," 186. [14] See, for example: Arguedas, Alcides. Pueblo enfermo. (The sick people) Ediciones Ercilla, 1937; Barrera, Juan. "Me avergüenzan tus polleras." Un humilde origen para una amarga realidad (I am ashamed of your polleras) (1998). [15] Homi Bhabha, “The Other Question: Difference, Discrimination and the Discourse of Colonialism.”." Screen 24, no. 6 (1983): 18. [16] Ibid. [17] Ibid, 33. [18] Parvati Nair, A different light: The photography of Sebastiao Salgado. Duke University Press, 2011, 1. [19] John Mraz, "Sebastião Salgado: Ways of Seeing Latin America." Third Text 16, no. 1 (2002): 15; Parvati, A different light, 67. [20] Salgado, Other Americas, 23. [21] “Faces of the other Americas,” Alan Riding, accessed on December 30, 2018. https://www.nytimes.com/1986/09/07/magazine/faces-of-the-other-americas.html [22] “Brazilian photographer Sebastião Salgado captures the essence of a continent in his series Other Americas,” Guillian Orr, accessed on December 30, 2018. https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/photography/brazilian-photographer-sebasti-o-salgado-captures-the-essence-of-a-continent-in-his-series-other-10487443.html [23] Parvati, A different light, 14. [24] Saskia Sassen, "Black and white photography as theorizing: seeing what the eye cannot see." In Sociological Forum, vol. 26, no. 2, pp. 438-443. Oxford, UK: Blackwell Publishing Ltd, 2011, 441. [25] See, for example: John Mraz, "Sebastião Salgado: Ways of Seeing Latin America." Third Text 16, no. 1 (2002): 15 -30; Ingrid Sischy, "Photography: good intentions." The New Yorker 9 (1991): 89-95; TJ Clark, “Commentary,” in Migrations: The Work of Sebastião Salgado. ed. Christina M. Gillis, (Berkeley: The Regents of the University of California and the Doreen B. Townsend Center for the Humanities, 2002), 23-26. [26] Poole, Vision, race, and modernity, 124. [27] A woman’s light cape made of different materials, worn over Chola’s shoulders. [28] Craig Owens, "The discourse of others: Feminists and postmodernism." The anti-aesthetic: Essays on postmodern culture (1985): 68. [29] Mraz, Sebastião Salgado, 17. [30] Bhabha, The Other Question, 22. [31] Ibid, 27. [32] Galeano, Las venas abiertas de Latinoamérica, 39. [33] For example, her work was recognized by Lens Culture awards. “Cholitas: the revenge of a generation,” accessed in January 3, 2019. https://www.lensculture.com/articles/delphine-blast-cholitas-the-revenge-of-a-generation#slideshow [34] See, for example: “The rise of Bolivia’s indigenous 'cholitas' – in pictures,” The Guardian, accessed December 20, 2018. https://www.theguardian.com/world/gallery/2018/feb/22/rise-bolivia-indigenous-cholitas-in-pictures [35] Blast, Cholitas, 49. [36] “These Women Rock Indigenous Clothes to Reclaim Their History,” Keefe, Alexa, National Geographic, accessed December 20, 2018. https://www.nationalgeographic.com/photography/proof/2016/11/portraits-of-bolivia-s-cholitas-celebrate-fashion-and-heritage/ [37] Blast, Cholitas, 50. [38] Ibid. [39] Ximena Soruco, "Colloquium Mestizajes and social ascent in Bolivia." Tinkazos 15 (2012): 13. [40] Rossana Barragán, “Entre polleras, lliqllas y ñañacas. Los mestizos y la emergencia de la tercera república”. Arze, Silvia, et al.. Etnicidad, economía y simbolismo en los Andes: II congreso internacional de etnohistoria. Coroico. Lima: Institut français d’études andines, 1992, pp.24 http://books.openedition.org/ifea/2290 [41] Poole, Vision, race, and modernity, 155-157. [42] Paul Verhaeghe, "What about me?: the struggle for identity in a market." (2012), 6. |
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