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Saturday, November 16 NIGHTS OF UNCERTAINTY
Before I start, please excuse the awful state of my voice.
I'll do my best to make my questions
audible for you, ladies and gentlemen.
It's a magnificent exhibition, and the artists--
Not all will be able to speak due to lack of time--
But the artists present should feel free
to share their reactions,
to speak up, to make comments,
to participate in this shared moment.
You are welcome to speak, just wave to me.
Don't hesitate to react, to comment on what you're hearing.
This exhibition, which I visited earlier,
is absolutely extraordinary
because it's the story, spanning over half a century,
of a continent.
We'll discuss that later, but my first impression
on seeing these images, these photos and videos,
was the extraordinary capacity
you all had for seeing.
I say this because I'm a journalist
in a society where I wonder if we still know how to look,
if we still know how to see things.
Earlier, the first thing I noticed
was your ability to see.
Your narration of a continent's history, over more than 50 years,
is absolutely extraordinary,
a tool which is cultural,
anthropological and political,
and of admirable richness. This isn't an introduction.
I'm just sharing how I entered
this exhibition.
In the front row is one of my Nights of Uncertainty accomplices.
His name is Michel Cassé. He's an astrophysicist.
Michel and I have taken part in many Nights of Uncertainty,
so, my friend, if at any time you wish to speak...
In the shadows, I can make out another accomplice, Hervé Chandès.
Perhaps...
with this huge body of work,
it's best to first sketch out
its general context.
Fredi Casco, you'll soon speak, you made a superb film,
but first, allow me to introduce Claudia Ahdujar,
a photographer, whose work is extremely interesting.
In a few minutes we'll speak with you in depth
about the Yanomami, who we have often seen
and spoken of here at the Fondation Cartier.
Hervé Chandès is very concerned by the Yanomami situation.
Next to Fredi Casco is Luis Camnitzer,
artist and author.
And finally, Paolo Gasparini, photographer.
They are all renowned in Latin America.
Gasparini's work
is incredibly well-known and important in Latin America.
This is Fredi Casco.
I'll start with you because
you studied law,
- you're a writer... - In another life.
- Long ago. - Speak into the mike.
You're a documentary filmmaker,
you made a film which is part of the show, screened in this room,
entitled Reveulta(s) .
With your camera, you followed 30 artists
from 8 Latin American countries.
The term "road movie" has become clichéd from overuse,
but your voyage across Latin America
is incredibly rich.
My first question is: You met and interviewed them,
so what have these past 50 years told us?
And your opinion, as well.
First, I'd like to say, it isn't a road movie,
it's a testimony.
We knew that from the start,
that what we needed to make was a testimony.
After that, the whole filmic aspect,
if that worked,
that was less important.
We saw we had three generations of artists and photographers
speaking for the camera,
sharing many experiences.
For us, the crew,
for I wasn't alone,
I was with Renate Costa, my co-director,
and Luis Arteaga, the director of photography.
The three of us travelled through Latin America
from south to north to seek out these magnificent artists.
Something striking, from the first frame of the film,
which reminds me of the exhibition's power,
is the importance of framing: The way you frame an image,
the way you show the artists.
You alternate shots: we're in the film, then we stop
and it's a photo of a man looking directly into the camera.
Earlier, I spoke of the ability to see.
Your film shows these artists' extraordinary ability
to see, I think.
I was lucky to work with such an exceptional team.
We had many discussions.
When we realized we'd be meeting with
people who work with images, notably photographers
and artists who work with photography,
we wanted to give the film this "portrait" aspect,
and see how we could
do portraits of these magnificent artists
using video. That was the idea.
We also wanted to capture how these artists saw things.
And not only artists-- The way you...
do a freeze-frame on the faces of people in the streets,
the people of that continent,
is pretty interesting.
We'll talk about this with Mr. Gasparini later,
but this manner of freezing an image
to show you're looking at him and he's looking at us.
In fact, we talked about
what a shame it would be
to go to 9 cities in Latin America,
no, 12 cities, and not film these cities.
For quite a few artists,
their place of Annunciation is their city, these cities,
so filled with magnificent, monstrous contradictions
so we also wanted to capture images of these cities today
before going to see the artists in their studios or homes.
What stayed with you after all those long interviews?
Of all they said, what stayed with you?
After all, it is 50 years
of powerful testimony.
To me, they are incredibly political images,
in the best sense of the term.
But if something were to--
I was impressed by the unity of the exhibition.
Before seeing it, I might've feared
it'd diverge wildly.
But as we walk among these images,
exactly the opposite happens:
We get a sense of homogeneity,
of power, of density,
and thus, an organized message.
What did they say to you?
First, I think there is a plurality of vision, of ways of seeing
in this continent. What is Latin America?
Maybe it's a myth, a magnificent myth
in which we work.
We work politically, socially, artistically, poetically, etc.
That's what I saw.
I saw extraordinary ways of looking and speaking
in all these artists who are nothing alike.
Each way of seeing had such honesty,
power and poetry. It was extraordinary.
I didn't see Peruvian,
Venezuelan, Cuban, or Mexican photography,
I discovered several ways of seeing
focused on their country, their Annunciation places,
parts of this continent called Latin America.
What I find quite astonishing
is that they all say almost the same thing:
A sort of denunciation of lies.
The lies of advertising,
the lies of facades,
the lies of "Enter our shop. You can buy all you need to eat,"
the lies of political platforms,
almost as if, once again, they had the ability
not only to see, but once it has been seen,
to denounce it.
I noted something down to say. It really touched me.
I found extraordinarily moving--
Among others, for there are so many magnificent things--
the work of Lotty Rosenfeld.
The broken white lines of the road. They're nothing.
But if suddenly that white line becomes a cross in Santiago,
it's a political message of extraordinary violence
with all the risks that come with the context.
That's what I find powerful about all the artists' messages.
In an interview I did with Luis Camnitzer,
he has some extraordinary concepts
attempting to see how artists,
notably, conceptual artists,
worked in the '60s and '70s
which was to use--
These aren't his words,
- we'll leave that to Luis. - To each his own words.
What I learned was their way of using elements
taken from Europe, the US, and so on is a sort of--
The Brazilians have a magnificent concept describing this:
"Anthrophagia" meaning "cannibalism".
A sort of cultural cannibalism in a few cases,
and others try to use these elements
taken from the domain of conceptual art
of North America, Europe or elsewhere
and to transform it through "détournement",
to do it differently.
For me, that's much more interesting
and more poetic. That's what I learned.
"Détournement" is the key word.
It defines your work, it's exactly what you did
with the photos you bought at flea markets
and reworked their verso side.
This made me think-- Especially you, as a filmmaker,
but we all know film has a negative and a positive,
in fact, there are two images.
But they differ depending on from which side you see them.
It's what is so interesting in this exhibition:
We constantly see the negative and the positive.
In this, I think it has extraordinary demonstrative power,
notably, to denounce
these past 50 years of utter madness,
mostly composed of dictatorship, violence, and savagery,
also including economic savagery.
Mr. Gasparini's work gives us an edifying point or view.
I can find references...
Sometimes it reminds us of Warhol,
except that Warhol becomes almost trivial
compared to the violence of the denunciation
of that woman we see in every image.
Each time, in the corner, is the look
of that woman that you're actually denouncing,
representing the look of the lie.
Incredible work emerges from this intention to "tell".
That's what is most striking about the work.
Can you talk briefly about your work with these flea-market images?
Was your intention to demonstrate
that this whole ritual of receptions and etiquette
is yet another form of the lie?
Yes, I think... They are parties, official receptions,
notably, at the Foreign Affairs Ministry
of the Stroessner dictatorship,
a very long dictatorship, from mid-1950s
until 1989.
Basically, the entire Cold War.
When I found these photographs
in a small flea market in Asunción
I immediately knew I wanted to make
a horror movie with them!
I grew up with those B-movies, science-fiction and all that,
shown on TV under the dictatorship.
It was an afteraffect.
I instantly knew what I'd do with it.
The first part of that series,
done as photomontage, called Return of the Wizards ,
El Retorno de los Brujos ,
also refers to the constant return of dictatorships,
even the image of the dictator who fell in '89
constantly returned post-dictatorship,
during the "transition to democracy".
About the drawings I did later, the Foto Zombie series,
I was in Valencia
and I'd just met Eugenio-Dittborn.
We were discussing exhibitions and stuff
and we went to see my Return of the Wizards show,
the photomontages.
In a display case, I'd placed all the photos
but face down, so you could read
the photographers' notes, the official seals, etc.
Eugenio asked me,
"After these photomontages, what will you do next?"
I saw it. Without thinking, I saw the drawing.
It appeared before my eyes, like in a developing bath.
That's basically the process I use,
I redevelop the back of the photo with these drawings.
- It's a sort of photography. - It is photography!
It goes back to this idea of positive/negative.
It's a way of "disassembling" the photo.
It's how you show the incredible vanity
of this etiquette and protocol in a coercive, totalitarian society.
In any case,
the diplomatic image is always the facade
for every type of government,
whether democratic, imperial, or dictatorial.
The facade is always these same ceremonial banalities.
I didn't want to directly show the violence and horror,
I wanted to show something else.
I wanted to show...
the sinister aspect of these banalities,
these receptions and all that frivolity.
- That's what I tried to do. - I think you succeeded!
One last thing before listening to Mrs. Andujar:
Your film was also interesting due to its generational variety.
You, yourself, are a young documentary filmmaker.
I don't consider myself a filmmaker.
It's my first time. Renate and Luis are the filmmakers.
I encourage you to continue because it's a really fine film.
- Thanks. - Back to this generational variety,
does a real transmission occur between you all?
"You all" meaning Mexico, Brazil,
all the countries contributing to this exhibition.
We sense a sort of bond, something that links all of you,
even across generations.
I can only speak from my own experience.
I wanted to meet all these artists.
There were a few I didn't know,
but I greatly admired most of these artists,
so it was a fantastic opportunity for me,
not only to learn about their work,
but also to meet them and speak with them.
It was a huge privilege. So, yes.
Even without a history of contemporary art in Latin America,
we have a network and we admire these artists.
Yes, I knew these artists and they influenced my work.
Mrs. Andujar,
the network Fredi Casco speaks of,
is it even stronger
due to the continent's dark past,
notably its incredibly violent and terrible dictatorships?
Did that contribute to make all the artists present
"weave" something which today tells us
about the last half century of the Latin American continent?
Is your bond stronger due to all that?
I hope there is a strong bond between us.
It's at an exhibition like this, at the Fondation
that we really... see it as a whole.
Finally, each of us
sees things in their own way,
has a personal interpretation,
but probably, when it comes down to it,
we have something in common
You discover that now?
Yes.
It's marvellous.
It must be quite moving for you all
to see what reunites you.
Without a doubt.
No, I didn't realize all that.
Even though you're very involved,
in a very particular domain.
For those in France who don't know you,
you're a photographer, living in Brazil for many years
and very quickly you became interested in,
as I said earlier, the Yanomamis, the Amazonian people,
living in awful conditions, who, today, risk extinction.
What brought you to the Yanomami?
They are the main axe of your work.
I think it's what you said:
to try to save them from extinction.
That's the main axe of my work,
both my photography and political activities,
my attempt
to create conditions
which in my case means
to try to convince the Brazilian government,
who know nothing about the Yanomami,
to recognize their territory.
That was one of the first,
essential battles I fought.
It was possible
thanks to my long stays with the Yanomami,
as a way to try to understand who they are,
which means to learn about their culture.
This took several years.
At the start, I mentioned what struck me in the exhibition
and in the works of you all
was the capacity of seeing,
to see these men and women.
It's extraordinary how your photos
not only look, they stare at them.
There's a link between the photos and us,
looking at these people, which is astonishing.
No one looked at the Yanomami before you started.
That's true because
when I started working with them in 1971,
they'd had very little contact with the outside world.
This contact arouse from the construction of a road.
- The Transcontinental? - No.
It's called Perimetral Norte .
Or used to be, because in the end,
the road wasn't built. Construction began in '74.
The government saw it as a way of occupying
the entire northern territory of Brazil
in order to develop it, economically.
And politically, to ensure
it would continue to belong to Brazil.
At the time, they were very afraid the United States
would come in and occupy the whole Amazonian area,
causing Brazil to lose an huge chunk of territory.
The people living there, the Indians, didn't interest them.
I spoke earlier of the political violence of the dictatorships,
but for the Yanomami,
there was also the violence of deforestation,
the violence of the arbitrary path of this road,
causing incalculable damage, both to the environment
and these human societies.
There was the violence of disease...
- That was a consequence. - Of course.
These diseases, before the arrival of the road workers, didn't exist.
They were unknown.
They arrived with them.
Hundred and hundreds of people died.
This marked the start of
your powerful, affecting work: Marcados.
What does Marcados mean?
- "To be marked." - I read the introduction.
it's very powerful, very moving.
Your father was a "Marcados"
because he was a Jew forced to wear the Yellow Star.
It's awful to mark a person.
So there's this ambiguity that you evoke
when you mark each Yanomami that will be vaccinated.
Without a doubt.
In my childhood, I was 13
when my father and my father's entire family
were marked by the Nazis
and then deported and they all died.
Of my family, none...
- Survived. - Exactly. Survived.
So it was something
that remained with me for life.
When I saw the Yanomami falling ill,
entire villages disappearing due to the epidemics
that we'd brought in,
for me, it was awful.
In addition to struggling to defend their territory,
I was also very concerned by their health problems.
At that time,
the end of the '70s,
was when we decided to start a health program
to save them.
Conditions were unbelievable.
Apart from the road invasion,
there were only a few missionaries,
insignificant compared to the violence they suffered
from construction of the road
and also due to...
gold because on Yanomami territory--
- Gold prospectors. - Yes, prospectors.
They caused and continue to cause problems today.
They poison the forest, the men and women.
Exactly.
Problems that...
we still haven't resolved.
It was then, around '78-'79
that we started creating a health program.
I live in São Paulo
where there is a medical school
which worked for many years
in another part of Brazil,
a territory called Xingu.
I asked their aid to do something for the Yanomami.
Finally, I met two doctors
from the São Paulo medical school
and we launched the health program.
To do so, we had to travel from village to village
and to create a system
using forms
on which we noted each person's initial medical exam
and recorded the past illnesses of each person.
The Yanomami don't have names like we do.
For example, my name is Claudia. They don't have that.
I can be identified by my ID card and my name.
This doesn't exist in Yanomami society.
So we used a system that had been developed in Xingu:
Assigning a number to each person
at their first exam and vaccination.
I photographed each Indian
that was examined and treated.
In this way, we created an identity for them
to help them survive.
It's interesting--
This fits what Fredi Casco said earlier
about flipping a photo and modifying it
to change its meaning.
Photographing the Yanomami with a number has a function,
it might save their lives,
but this labelling, this "Marcados" in a way, you also denounce it.
Your work has two aspects, and one is "Attention! Danger."
In my work at that time,
I never imagined
using these photos for anything but these ID cards.
In addition,
some of these ID cards are on display here.
You can see
these very small photos.
They were taken to set up the health program
and try to save them,
which is the opposite of what happened in my childhood,
which marked me deeply.
"Marcados" ...
instead of killing them,
putting them in death camps,
we tried to save them.
Now, much later,
around 2000, 2001,
I started reviewing all this work.
I thought I'd use it to denounce the whole situation.
This is why a certain number of these photos are here today:
To denounce a situation.
This is what I find passionate about this exhibition:
These common bonds you all share.
It's the same with you, Mr. Camnitzer.
To look and to denounce.
You use other means,
for example, magazines and newspapers.
But it forms an incredibly virulent political sequence.
You speak as if that were the principal
objective. But that's not the case.
The principal objective
is to expose a problem and to try to solve it.
In this case, the problem was
to pay homage
to those who fell in the struggle
against repression and imperialism.
After all...
the political content of my work
does not lie in narration
but rather in the act of making art
like a geographical place in ethics.
In some cases, it might be a formalist solution,
in other cases a philosophical solution,
or even a political solution, as it was in this case.
But I don't like to limit the definition of my work
to one sole theme.
I had the impression that's what you were doing.
Yet at the same time-- I understand what you mean,
but what is striking and very interesting in your work
is it's like in film: The way a film is edited
is a statement, a point of view, a view of a situation.
In a way, you do the same thing by assembling
photos, which, taken individually, don't express much,
but when shown in your "edit", in your "scene",
they make an incredibly political statement.
Honestly, Nixon standing up in the car with his arms like this...
If that isn't a political photo, what is?
It's a work in itself.
It makes me uncomfortable to realize
that you consider Latin America
as a single entity. That's the first thing.
It's like we'd organized an exhibition entitled "Europe".
Imagine what that would be like,
an exhibition entitled "Europe".
I understand what you mean, but that isn't the case.
You attempt, with each one of your questions,
to obtain a response that corresponds
to what you want to hear.
- If... - No, wait a moment.
Wait. Where do you stand?
Where do you stand, as a Frenchman
who has, or whose parents have lived in a city
occupied by the Germans?
You keep talking about repression
and denunciation,
and have us talk about it in a political way.
But we'd like to know how you,
as a Frenchman, stand in terms of repression.
Because it seems to me, based on what you've said,
that this is a sort of common denominator.
I assure you
that many Latin American artists
feel the same unease I do at this moment.
Give me a second to respond to the important point you made.
If you'll allow me-- Very briefly.
If you feel this way, I must have expressed myself poorly.
I do not believe, not at all,
that you are all the same. That'd be ludicrous.
However, and perhaps I'm mistaken,
but when I see the exhibition, what strikes me
is that each of you, with your experience, differences,
your culture, your sensitivity,
ends up saying something with a common meaning
that tells how-- In my opinion.
I'm not imposing it on you. I'm saying what I felt
when I saw your images. That's all I meant.
What I saw was a coherency,
a density, a message. I'm not denying your differences.
On the contrary, I find them extremely interesting and rich.
If you were able to believe I thought it was like Europe--
That said, there's a lot to say about Europe.
But that's not what I think. If I expressed myself that way,
please excuse me, for that's not what I meant.
Neo-liberalism is global,
isn't it? It's a global phenomenon.
Capitalism, in its ultimate stage,
effects the entire planet. Doesn't it?
So there is a sort of romanticism
when you say that we don't have iPhones
or that we don't have McDonald's.
What matters is to see the political problems
as they really are and to not idealise us
as if we existed outside the world,
the United States, the war in Iraq,
or the situation in the Middle East.
Except that no one is saying that.
Excuse me, but it's my turn to say that you didn't understand me.
I believe that...
I'd like to go back to the work of Mr. Camnitzer.
His work uses different images,
completely unrelated, but assembled, they say something.
To me, it's a work with political meaning,
in the best sense of the word,
meaning to attempt to understand the workings of a city.
That's the feeling I get from your work.
Yes, we live in a global system.
I don't doubt you have an iPhone in your pocket.
But that's not the question.
Once again, it's how you see and say things differently
that is interesting,
at least in the work I saw here.
What interests me...
is to invest as little energy as possible,
out of laziness and to be economical,
to get the maximum effect with minimum effort.
This creates an elegant result in terms of creation.
I both agree and disagree with Eugenio.
I disagree with him in the sense that McDonald's,
although it globalises
the society of mass consumption,
is perceived differently
in Latin America than in the United States.
In the United States, it's a franchise which is accepted,
even loved.
My wife, who is American, adores their hamburgers,
while for me, they make me vomit.
There is a difference in consumer ideology
between us that remains unresolved, even after 34 years.
So icons exist, which, although global,
differ in the way they are perceived.
I don't believe there is "global" or "international" art.
There are dialects and a creolization of language.
There's always the risk that an exhibition like this,
which I greatly admire,
requires an archaeological viewpoint
for those who know nothing of the events
and another, less archaeological, more direct and interactive
for more informed viewers.
I think Latin America is a conceptual work
which has never been finished.
At the same time, it's also an island,
not in the purely geographical sense because in the north, there's a wall,
but it's surrounded by water.
In this sense, there is an insularity
which brings us together, through language, religion,
or the phenomena of repression, oppression and imperialism.
So it's not surprising to see a certain aesthetic unity
take shape.
Even if the artists aren't in direct contact.
That is why I find this exhibition fascinating.
I know many of the artists in the show,
but I've also discovered many new ones and noticed the similarities.
Speaking of McDonald's, we also have McDonald's in Europe.
It's the same, probably as bad as yours,
or as good, for those who like it.
Very simply,
the big, big difference is-- I'm very interested in photography.
I go to every photo exhibition I can.
Yet I've never found elsewhere,
as powerfully as in this exhibition,
the denunciation of what that means.
Especially the challenge to denounce the lies
in advertising, through the images.
This is notable, once again in Mr. Gasparini's work.
It's extraordinary, the repetitions of that covert glance
which refers to that sort of intention to say... To be outside reality.
And this, I'm sorry, but I must insist,
all throughout the exhibition and all your works,
the challenge to expose this mechanism is present.
Yes, but the message isn't in the photo.
It is in the denunciation of montage.
Photography doesn't interest me as an artistic practice.
I use it when it suits me,
when it seems inevitable for my project.
Sometimes it is inevitable
due to an old prejudice
which says what I photograph is real,
that the image I capture is real.
It's an idea from the 19th or early 20th century.
But today, it no longer works.
Today, photography has become fiction, thanks to Photoshop.
What we see in a photo is fictional.
It's not a testimony.
We still haven't adapted to this cultural change.
As long as it was real, it was useful.
If I proposed photographs in the last century,
I knew that in the communication process
the public accepted them as something real,
as a real documentation,
freezing a specific instant
and preserving it as something objective.
What interests me is not
this direct transmission,
what interest me is that the informative data
contained in the photo,
or in whatever medium,
triggers something else.
That is why I use everything that I do
like a lever
which draws energy from the context
in order to expand itself.
Once again, minimum effort
for a maximum result.
A photo, alone, has no weight.
A photo has an impact, like everything,
when it touches a chord
and exploits the cultural context,
the knowledge of the public
and the tacit references
that I have in common, as a member of this society,
with the viewer.
Such work is in direct opposition
with something that exists in your countries as well as here,
the non-work of the 24-hour news channels.
A continuous flood of information which is never analyzed,
only superimposed, which accumulates
until it forms a framework which no longer conveys meaning.
It no longer says anything.
You're the exact opposite of this mechanism.
I intended to wait until you'd finished to make a comment.
But from the start, as my comrade Dittborn
pointed out, I think we're on the wrong track.
You said, and I'll quote you,
"50 years of madness, violence and savagery".
And you repeated the word "dictatorship",
because in the end, all that is linked to the denunciation
of lies in advertising.
I'm Peruvian. We didn't have a dictatorship
like what you're describing.
In Peru, we had the Shining Path,
a Leftist proposal,
which utilised the worst savagery to impose its ideas
and finally obtained a response from the Peruvian government.
But we were a democracy, not a dictatorship.
So, to talk about
what is making us uncomfortable right now,
let's quit believing that Latino art stops at magical realism
and also throw out the cliché that contemporary Latino art
only deals with dictatorships, savagery and death.
It's true, and I'll finish with this,
that there exists a denunciation of lies in advertising
but it is mostly linked to the idea
that the government and State are the "bad guys".
In my personal experience, in Peru,
the State was bad, certainly,
but so was the armed subversive movement
which led to State repression.
This is what sets my country apart from other Latino countries.
I could keep my mouth shut and listen
but for French audiences who don't know much about Latin America,
I think we're on the wrong track.
All this is too oversimplified. That's what I wanted to say.
I understand your reaction.
Simply, once again, when you look at what is exposed here...
Unfortunately, Stroessner is a reality.
Chile is a reality.
Dictatorship, in many Latin American countries, is a reality.
A reality that filled a considerable span of time
and led to tragedy for a large number of men and women.
Perhaps in Peru you experienced less of these violent situations,
but I think it is impossible,
especially when seeing the work here, to not think of that.
Going back to your work, Mr. Camnitzer:
When you create an assemblage of photos
of that man, in Cambodia,
holding a severed head in each hand,
when we see images of Vietnam,
images of what also happened in Latin America,
what you tell us about this political and historical series
is of terrible violence.
Perhaps it bothers you, but it is a reality.
What I find admirable, and I'll keep repeating it,
is the convergence of your viewpoints.
All different, each with their own culture and history,
but converging on the denunciation of political violence,
economic violence...
A certain number of things whose mechanism you have exposed.
I'm sorry to insist, perhaps I'm on the wrong track,
but I defend my opinion of what you showed me.
Once again, since there is the risk... as this gentleman said,
and it's interesting... The risk of taking the wrong track.
Perhaps I am on the wrong track.
I've been wrong before and maybe I'm totally mistaken
about what you're doing.
Latin America knew Operation Condor,
a wave of repression
which raged in southern Latin America.
Certain countries had no need of this operation.
Belaunde Terry, in Peru, supplied oil
without complaint to the United States,
despite missing pages in the contract.
Later, the violence was reciprocal.
It's another story, but I don't find it
so far away,
unlike certain countries. No matter...
What matters is to define our role
as artists.
In our societies, artists are individuals.
Recently, we've seen
the emergence of collectives,
artists who no longer present themselves as individuals
instead, they work towards a common cause.
Actually, art doesn't really interest me.
I became an artist by accident.
What I love is ethics,
and politics as a study of strategies
in order to find that ethic.
Art interests me
from an ideographic point of view,
as an instrument with which
I implement political strategies.
So for me, it has only minimal importance.
What matters is to be a good citizen
in a society of my imagining
and try to allow everyone to be a good citizen in that society,
which of course I know is a utopia and will never exist.
But I try. It keeps me from suicide.
I think that is the core that links us all together:
To try, with various levels of clarity,
to work towards that goal.
Certain things unite us. Others separate us.
I feel very distant from formalist artists
who produce objects to sell them.
And I feel very close
to artists who try to change culture
by generating a progressive dynamic in culture
and by reinforcing the rest of society.
Paulo Gasparini-- Excuse me, sir.
In that sense...
I try, without great success, to make my work
be inevitable
in the process of communication.
Once I've started working,
the work must be necessary
to get my message across.
In addition, I try, as an artist,
to be dispensable.
In a way, as soon as
I must continue making art,
I admit the failure
of my mission.
The day where I am no longer useful as an artist,
I will have succeeded.
Michel Cassé,
before I give the floor to Paolo Gasparini
and in the risk, which I assume completely,
of taking the wrong track:
In terms of everything you're heard, does this risk exist?
Certainly. Actually, I had a few proposals,
but I find them so naive that... I decided to keep quiet.
That's the best way to avoid taking the wrong track!
Paolo Gasparini,
I'll ask the same question. You've been listening to us.
You're an extraordinary observer
of the living conditions in the urban centres of Latin America.
You've been to Mexico, Brazil, you work in the United States.
In everything you've heard tonight: wrong track or not?
If I'm wrong, help me to get back on track.
No, no one was mistaken.
This is about the encounter
of several ways of interpreting
the continent on which we live
and the way it has been represented
and interpreted by artists or photographers.
Call it what you like.
I believe it's mostly about how to approach
each artist's work.
There's always the question of the photographer's ideology.
His beliefs
will always wind up
in his work, in the photo.
Whether it be my idea or the ideas of others,
like in Camnitzer's case.
I agree with almost everything he said.
- Not everything? - No.
I have a few of your photographs,
present in the show, here in front of me.
Returning to what seems an important point about this show:
The intent to expose things.
Through these images drawn from advertising,
which lure us toward an almost imaginary world,
and underneath them, the men and women of the streets,
most of whom live in terrible poverty.
The contrast between the two is very powerful, but also very violent.
The work you speak of
is a reflection
of my career. I was an architecture photographer
for many years in Italy and Venezuela. I was 20.
I lived in Cuba for 4 years
when I returned to Latin America.
Then I was hired for an architecture project.
I went to Mexico and Argentina.
They were architecture photos
not only in their context...
But shown as the work of certain architects
or architectural firms.
They were photos of buildings, banks, schools,
houses, big estates, etc.
It all dealt with urbanism.
I took these photos
with professional equipment
for everything had to be...
as sharp and clean as possible.
And I realized that the life around this...
Of course, I'd already realized that.
Around these banks and buildings I was photographing
there was...
There was a chasm between the two worlds.
The social reality surrounding that urban environment
was always in contradiction with what I saw.
The same thing happened with what I was seeing
in advertisements.
It was in contradiction with the people below the billboards.
There are two worlds: One above and one below.
There's also something which--
Yes. May I? I wanted to add,
in reference to this conversation,
that this is the Latin America 1960-2013 exhibition.
We are 30 living photographers,
all present tonight.
Our work doesn't only speak of the past
but also, fundamentally, of the present and our interpretation
of the present.
Everyone in the audience, the curators,
all the visitors to the exhibition,
will react in terms of the present,
whether the present be Latino or European.
Which is why we,
who come from Latin America,
with the weight of our past... Going back to what Eugenio said,
Europe has also known traumatisms.
And we are not here to be complaisant
and admire the greatness of Europe
when today, Latin America
has things to say
about fascism, racism,
or the rejection of diversity.
I believe that in a certain measure
our conceptual work, presented here,
deals with a set of ideas linked to our problematics
but also those of Europe,
with common themes,
like the rejection of diversity,
racism, violence
and the political manifestations
which we have witnessed.
Paolo's photos of banks
are still topical. In Latin America, yes,
but also in the suburbs of Paris where the riots began,
like those in Rio de Janeiro or Istanbul.
The present is part of this exhibition.
What are the problems exposed here?
The link between word and image,
between writing and thought,
the possibility that art can question and change society.
Does a Latin-American entity exist?
A question asked since the 1st Forum in Mexico in 1978,
and which we were still debating in São Paulo 3 weeks ago.
But beyond the question of a common identity,
our sentiments don't uniquely concern Latin America.
The current rise of fascism isn't happening there,
but in Europe.
Yes, Paolo Gasparini? My voice is definitely wearing out!
Just one small...
precision about what Marcelo said.
Fascism isn't present here and absent there.
I think it is everywhere.
Supposing that...
the role, or the need, as you call it,
or the inevitability of doing something in relation to it...
The role of the artist
is the same everywhere
according to what they think
and how they think.
According to me, one must always take the position,
from an ethical point of view,
of considering mankind
as the indispensable argument.
Paolo Gasparini, as a photographer, you've worked everywhere.
In terms of what was said about the problems also affecting Europe
like violence, fascism, an out-of-control economy...
We're also faced with these questions.
But the strength of this exhibition,
once again, because it really struck me,
is its ability to see and to ask the right questions.
I'm not certain that in Europe today,
work in photography,
film and in art in general,
takes it that far, sees as far as that.
That's why the work of the artists and photographers in this show,
seems to me, and I hope, all of us, particularly powerful
as a way of seeing questions that we, here in Europe,
haven't seen as clearly as you in the last 50 years.
That is why, for me, the exhibition is so striking.
I don't know what you, as a photographer, think,
in comparison with what you've seen elsewhere.
Certainly, for during the last 50 years
Latin America experienced
a profound crisis which touched the awareness
of artists and pushed them to express themselves.
What was the other question?
Do you feel,
since you travel a lot and see a lot of photography,
that there is something equivalent to what is on show here
in terms of denunciation and exposure.
I don't know any work in Europe
that is comparable to what is shown in this exhibition.
That's what I mean.
Well, I think
the exhibition is very well arranged
to allow us to understand this process.
It reflects...
in a well-organized way,
the work of all these photographers
throughout these difficult years,
and also the contradictions.
The latest contradiction we're experiencing
is to be looking
at this tragedy
while sitting in a place
which is the symbol of luxury.
It's the Fondation Cartier.
It's an additional paradox.
Because at the same time, it is thanks to the Fondation
that we may expose our work.
The only thing that bothers me-- I'll ease into the conclusion,
we'll leave about 20 minutes for your comments.
The only thing that bothers me
is that all of you might imagine
that we have assumptions
about who you are as Latin Americans.
All the questions I've asked you in these last two hours
are the result of the feeling
I got from seeing your work.
Maybe I'm wrong. Yet, you're artists.
You transmit a message to me and the other visitors to the show.
I'd be very upset if all of you thought
that the way we see your work is loaded with assumptions.
It'd be a real shame if you thought that.
It's not the case at all. We have no assumptions.
I think those who visit this show won't have any
and it's almost impossible to have them
for the work is so present, so descriptive,
and so rooted in a reality
that we in Europe have drifted away from.
If there is a difference between us,
it lies in your ability
to see the reality around you
and in our inability in Europe
to have that same demand to see things clearly.
Today we live in an age of denial,
of blindness to reality.
That's why seeing an exhibition like yours,
for someone like me, is such a powerful moment,
for you bring me back to reality.
Our society, here in Europe, is moving away from reality.
That is what I wanted to say through my questions.
- I'd like to say something. - Please do.
I'll speak in Portuguese and someone will translate.
I am a Brazilian artist.
All the questions asked during this conference...
I will not get into them. I am an artist...
But I wanted to say certain things...
about the interpretation one may have
of Latin America.
When we make an interpretation of Latin America...
It is obvious that such an exhibition...
I'm not trying to flatter, but it is very beautiful,
perfect...
What is Latin America?
As a Brazilian, I see Latin America as the Pacific side
and Brazil as the other side.
Various historians have already written on the subject.
The questions we raise here:
Europe on one side, Latin America on the other,
the United States on yet another.
I don't understand them. I'm not stupid
but I don't understand what you're seeking.
An artist works despite the words,
despite the contradictions and all the rest.
We're speaking together here as artists
who deal or have dealt... They are still alive.
They deal with questions
of art
and politics.
Numerous artists of Latin America and Brazil
developed this work, mainly in the '70s.
Political art...
I'll go back to Portuguese.
It's like the Tower of Babel in my head.
Political art...
Up until now in my work...
My work, I won't define it here,
but the work I present in the exhibition
Latin America, 1960 - 2013,
shows my work from the '70s.
There is no doubt
that these works,
in spite of the differences between the artists,
and even between the works of Brazilian artists of the time,
all deal with the question of the dictatorship
that we lived under for 21 years,
and that is not nothing.
And so,
I said that the reality
in Brazil...
In the '60s...
From 1964 until 1981,
the dictatorship pushed
artists
who were politically aware
to protest
through the production of artwork.
The situation in Brazil,
metaphorically,
in its reality,
or symbolically,
is linked
in an important and concomitant way
to that of various artists in Uruguay
and Argentina.
I'm more familiar with those in Uruguay and in Argentina.
Actually, if you compare
long dictatorships
with other long dictatorships,
there are periods...
under these regimes, Chile...
I'd just like to, in the time remaining--
I'll finish, but let me speak.
What we're discussing tonight,
about the Latin American equation...
Our preoccupation
as artists
in relation to Europe
and the United States, as a Brazilian...
Our... or my...
and that of a few other artists... Our preoccupation
regarding the situation in the Middle East...
We're really worried.
The situation in Iran or Iraq,
with all these events, is also part
of my preoccupations
and moulds my thoughts as an artist
about what's going on in the world.
That's what I wanted to say.
In conclusion, I'd like to turn to Hervé Chandès.
Please excuse my voice which is definitely... very fragile.
I think that, apart from the worth and quality of this exhibition,
I'd be tempted to use this 90-minute exchange
to speak of the necessity of this exhibition.
It was interesting how,
several times, the question of taking the wrong track was asked.
In the end, it was interesting how the way we see them
and the way they see us
is present in a discussion about the exhibition.
This really proves that there is no "wrong track",
there is only one reality: that of understanding.
There is a real need: to look.
I think that the role of this project, this show,
perfectly answers these 90 minutes of discussion
and the questions that were asked.
I could simply add in relation to...
I think he left the room.
The first comment Eugenio made
about the exhibition's title, "Latin America".
I'd like to see an exhibition entitled "Europe"
organized in Latin America
to see the way Latin America
views Europe, faced with so many questions today.
Perhaps it would help us to see clearer
and highlight certain topics to reflect upon.
That's what I wanted to add.
In any case, it's almost time to close.
Anyway, my voice is almost gone.
I think the next minutes will be difficult.
In any case, thank you and bravo.
And once again, be assured that
I'd hate for you to leave believing
we have any assumptions
other than recognition, admiration and respect for your work.
Thank you all.
English translation Lynn Massey
S O F T I T R A G E C O M