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Postcolonial theory has developed mainly in the U.S. academy, and it has focused chiefly on nineteenth-century and twentieth-century colonization and decolonization processes in Asia, Africa, the Middle East, and the Caribbean. Colonialism in Latin America originated centuries earlier, in the transoceanic adventures from which European modernity itself was born. Coloniality at Large brings together classic and new reflections on the theoretical implications of colonialism in Latin America. By pointing out its particular characteristics, the contributors highlight some of the philosophical and ideological blind spots of contemporary postcolonial theory as they offer a thorough analysis of that theory’s applicability to Latin America’s past and present. Written by internationally renowned scholars based in Latin America, the United States, and Europe, the essays reflect multiple disciplinary and ideological perspectives. Some are translated into English for the first time. The collection includes theoretical reflections, literary criticism, and historical and ethnographic case studies focused on Ecuador, Guatemala, Mexico, Brazil, the Andes, and the Caribbean. Contributors examine the relation of Marxist thought, dependency theory, and liberation theology to Latin Americans’ experience of and resistance to coloniality, and they emphasize the critique of Occidentalism and modernity as central to any understanding of the colonial project. Analyzing the many ways that Latin Americans have resisted imperialism and sought emancipation and sovereignty over several centuries, they delve into topics including violence, identity, otherness, memory, heterogeneity, and language. Contributors also explore Latin American intellectuals’ ambivalence about, or objections to, the “post” in postcolonial; to many, globalization and neoliberalism are the contemporary guises of colonialism in Latin America. Contributors : Arturo Arias, Gordon Brotherston, Santiago Castro-Gómez, Sara Castro-Klaren, Amaryll Chanady, Fernando Coronil, Román de la Campa, Enrique Dussel, Ramón Grosfoguel, Russell G. Hamilton, Peter Hulme, Carlos A. Jáuregui, Michael Löwy, Nelson Maldonado-Torres, José Antonio Mazzotti, Eduardo Mendieta, Walter D. Mignolo, Mario Roberto Morales, Mabel Moraña, Mary Louise Pratt, Aníbal Quijano, José Rabasa, Elzbieta Sklodowska, Catherine E. Walsh

The conceptualization of decolonial aesthetics is fairly recent, however its points of departure — the epistemic shifts that have been challenging coloniality in the artistic and cultural practices of the Global South — are as old as the colonial system. The defiance of colonialism in Vodou dance and rituals, which in Haiti ultimately led to the first successful enslaved people’s revolution, is a splendid case in point.

The written curatorial statement from the organizing committee of the 11th Havana Biennial arrived via email the same day that we were preparing a dossier for the Romanian magazine IDEA. As we put together a brief history of “Decolonial Aesthetics” meetings and some portions of the “Decolonial Manifesto,” we discussed the need to bring to the biennial some of the critical and creative processes emanating from the decolonial collective. Previous editions of the biennial were overcharged with doses of “postmodernity,” marginal notes on the “postcolonial” condition, and celebrations of the “altermodern” (with its postproduction and relational dimensions). These were present in the curatorial practices, as well as in several of the presentations at the Theoretical Forum during the 2006 and 2009 editions. As we kept reading through the Biennial‘s curatorial statement, its content promoted a heated discussion among us where the idea of presenting a panel on decolonial aestheSis at the Havana Biennial became seen as not only relevant, but also, and above all, necessary.

In this essay, I aim to engage the growing body of scholarship that employs Indigenous feminist theories to understand and mobilize against the sexual and gendered violence committed against Native peoples. To accomplish this, I construct a Native feminist analysis of the 2010 Tribal Law and Order Act. I posit that despite the overwhelmingly positive characterizations of the legislation as “historic” in its potential to address violence against Native women and reduce crime in Indian country, a Native feminist reading of the Tribal Law and Order Act illuminates the degree to which the Act emerges from, engages with, and advances settler colonial and heteropatriarchal logics that cause violence against Native women in the first place. I suggest that although the Act does contain measures that have the potential to alleviate the experience of violence in Native women’s lives, it also diminishes tribal sovereignty, perpetuates the ongoing encroachment of tribal jurisdiction, regulates the boundaries of Native identity, and limits our ability to envision and enact practices of decolonization.

Cet article discute de la pertinence d’identifier les arts visuels autochtones comme tel, de maintenir une forme de distinction vis-à-vis des œuvres produites par les artistes autochtones. Il s’agit d’éclairer le débat en soutenant qu’il existe bel et bien certains éléments précis qui permettent encore de définir les arts autochtones. Est également abordé le fait que les artistes continuent d’employer la stratégie claire de l’auto-identification. Sous cet angle, cette catégorie des arts autochtones ne semble pas encore caduque

Le travail de l’artiste huron-wendat Pierre Sioui est assez méconnu au Québec. Prolifique dans les années 1980 et ayant exposé aux quatre coins du Canada ainsi qu’aux États-Unis, Sioui a ensuite totalement disparu du milieu des arts contemporains autochtones. Une relecture du travail de cet artiste permet de redécouvrir un créateur fascinant tout à fait inscrit dans les préoccupations esthétiques et politiques de sa décennie. Sioui semble surtout avoir employé sa démarche artistique au service d’une redécouverte de son identité et de ses racines. Il l’a fait par le biais de recherches à la fois théoriques, cosmologiques et esthétiques des valeurs et de la culture huronne, le conduisant vers une thématique entourant principalement le sens des rituels, la mort et le cycle de la vie. Tous ces vieillards dans ses oeuvres, ces cadavres, ces ossements et ces crânes, parlent de relations entre mort et renaissance, entre colonialisme puis réappropriation, et semblent être pour Sioui une véritable trame créatrice à renouveler sans cesse.

"Native Studies Keywords explores selected concepts in Native studies and the words commonly used to describe them, words whose meanings have been insufficiently examined. This edited volume focuses on the following eight concepts : sovereignty, land, indigeneity, nation, blood, tradition, colonialism, and indigenous knowledge. Each section includes three or four essays and provides definitions, meanings, and significance to the concept, lending a historical, social, and political context. Take sovereignty, for example. The word has served as the battle cry for social justice in Indian Country. But what is the meaning of sovereignty? Native peoples with diverse political beliefs all might say they support sovereignty-without understanding fully the meaning and implications packed in the word. The field of Native studies is filled with many such words whose meanings are presumed, rather than articulated or debated. Consequently, the foundational terms within Native studies always have multiple and conflicting meanings. These terms carry the colonial baggage that has accrued from centuries of contested words. Native Studies Keywords is a genealogical project that looks at the history of words that claim to have no history. It is the first book to examine the foundational concepts of Native American studies, offering multiple perspectives and opening a critical new conversation"--Résumé du site web de l'éditeur

Catalogue d'exposition. Du 14 janvier au 25 février 2012 à Art Mûr (Montréal. Titre : Baliser le territoire : Manifestation d’art contemporain autochtone / A Stake in the Ground: Contemporary Native Art Manifestation. Commissaire : Nadia Myre Sonny Assu, Jason Baerg, Carl Beam, Rebecca Belmore, Kevin Lee Burton, Hannah Claus, Bonnie Devine, Raymond Dupuis, Edgar Heap of Birds, Vanessa Dion Fletcher, Nicholas Galanin, Greg Hill, Robert Houle, Maria Hupfield, Rita Letendre, Glenna Matoush, Alan Michelson, Nadia Myre, Marianne Nicolson, Michael Patten, Arthur Renwick, Sonia Robertson, Greg Staats, Tania Willard, Will Wils

As a teenager during my first internship at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, a diversity initiative for inner-city youth, the education curator enthusiastically asked, “Who here would like to be an art historian!?” Like all the other Black and Brown inner-city kids, I laughed inside. My response was not due to a lack of art appreciation; I grew up in a family of refugees who were all self-taught artists back home in El Salvador, who taught me to draw before I learned to read. Nor was my response rooted in apathy for creative expression, for I was involved in art and theater from my elementary through my high school years. Art was such a natural part of my life that the idea of studying it seemed wasteful to me. The truth was, the internship was one of two jobs I was working to financially help my family and pay for my first year of community college. Hidden even deeper, though, I believed the museum world was not my world. I was a guanaca (the appellative given to people from El Salvador) whose family fled war and remained invisible in mainstream US Latinx history and culture. I was also from the hood—in my case Compton, California, a city made notorious by gangsta rap and police brutality. I believed that people like me guarded the art on the museum walls, cleaned the floors and bathrooms for visitors, and served the food at the high-priced café. People who looked like me, who came from where I did, did not determine what art could be, nor could we afford to buy it. We certainly did not write the history of art, for if we had, we would see ourselves represented on the walls.

This thesis argues that photography is tainted with ingrained racist ideologies that have been present since its earliest inception in 1839. It considers the act of photographing the Other as a site of Western violence, myth, fantasy and disavowal. It examines archival images through the prism of race, representation and human rights with the aim of extracting new meanings that bring the Other into focus. This is done by reading the images both against the politics of the time in which they were made and as contemporary objects at work in the political and cultural present. The thesis makes the case that photography is burdened with ideological fault-lines concerning race and rights. The fault-lines have been forged by cultural and colonial violence resulting in Western scopic regimes that have dominated and fixed the Other within an inescapable set of Western epistemologies that have been used to serve and enhance imperial perspectives on race. I argue that these perspectives are still active within the Western mindset manifest as benign acts of photographic empathy that work to ultimately bolster Western hegemonies and economies. This thesis is based on 25 years of experience as a researcher and curator of international photography exhibitions, direct research into archives in different continental settings, the presentation of papers in a variety of national and international contexts, and interviews withphotographers, curators and academics. My hypothesis is that the history of photography can only be complete if the voice of the subaltern is made critically present within it, so allowing us to engage with important political racial memory work that can help us re-read the past and reconfigure different meanings concerning history, race, rights and human recognition in the present. I argue that photography requires decolonising work to be carried out on its history. I propose that if we do not recognise the historical and political conjunctures of racial politics at work within photography and the effects on those that have been culturally erased, made invisible or less than human by such images, then we remain hemmed within established orthodoxies of colonial thought concerning the racialised body, the subaltern and the politics of human recognition.

L’article part de la notion wendat d’ohtehra’ pour développer une approche de l’art contemporain autochtone comme processus de « ré-ensauvagement » à l’œuvre, entre autres, chez les artistes Kent Monkman (Cri-Irlandais) et Caroline Monnet (Anishinaabe-Française). L’auteur, en s’appuyant sur les théoriciens Deborah Doxtator (Kanien’kehá:ka), Georges Emery Sioui (Wendat) et Taiaiake Alfred (Kanien’kehá:ka) propose également une analyse de l’autochtonie en Amérique du Nord comme un fait glocal d’Américité.

Sakahàn' celebrates a growing international commitment to the collection, study and exhibition of indigenous art. Featuring more than 75 artists from around the world, this remarkable project places indigenous art squarely at the centre of contemporary art produced today.

In this deeply engaging account, Michelle H. Raheja offers the first book-length study of the Indigenous actors, directors, and spectators who helped shape Hollywood's representation of Indigenous peoples. Since the era of silent films, Hollywood movies and visual culture generally have provided the primary representational field on which Indigenous images have been displayed to non-Native audiences. These films have been highly influential in shaping perceptions of Indigenous peoples as, for example, a dying race or as inherently unable or unwilling to adapt to change. However, films with Ind

Indigenous Art New Media and the Digital convenes leading scholars, curators, and artists from the Indigenous territories in Canada, the United States of America, Australia, and Aotearoa (New Zealand). It brings forth urgent conversations about resistance to colonial modernism, and highlights the historic and ongoing use of technology by Indigenous communities and artists as vehicles of resilience and cultural continuity. This issue ignites productive dialogue around the definitions of new and digital media art and practice-based work within the framework of Indigenous art and theory

El retrato ha sido, a lo largo de la historia de la fotografía, un ritual cuya gramática visual está siempre condicionada por una mirada determinada. Retratamos para recordar, para fijar un instante en el tiempo. Cuando recordamos lo fotografiado convocamos de nuevo ese instante, pero, además, convocamos una realidad, un orden social específico construido por determinados actores sociales. La fotografía ha representado y legitimado en muchos momentos un patrón de poder colonial que, a través de sus estructuras de dominación, ha elaborado rígidas jerarquías sociales y raciales que han circunscrito a indios, afros, mujeres y clases populares a lo que Frantz Fanon llama la zona del No-ser. ¿Es posible recordar, entonces, a partir de la fotografía, de manera crítica y sin reproducir en tal ejercicio la matriz colonial que hizo posible la toma de la imagen?

Article sur les machinimas de l'artiste Skawennati (Kanien'kehá:ka) et du travail du laboratoire d'ABTEC (Aboriginal Territories on cyberspace) à l'Université Concordia.

To the colonized, the term 'research' is conflated with European colonialism; the ways in which academic research has been implicated in the throes of imperialism remains a painful memory. This essential volume explores intersections of imperialism and research - specifically, the ways in which imperialism is embedded in disciplines of knowledge and tradition as 'regimes of truth.' Concepts such as 'discovery' and 'claiming' are discussed and an argument presented that the decolonization of research methods will help to reclaim control over indigenous ways of knowing and being. Now in its eagerly awaited third edition, this bestselling book includes a co-written introduction features contributions from indigenous scholars on the book's continued relevance to current research. It also features a chapter with twenty-five indigenous projects and a collection of poetry

Our goal in this article is to remind readers what is unsettling about decolonization. Decolonization brings about the repatriation of Indigenous land and life; it is not a metaphor for other things we want to do to improve our societies and schools. The easy adoption of decolonizing discourse by educational advocacy and scholarship, evidenced by the increasing number of calls to “decolonize our schools,” or use “decolonizing methods,” or, “decolonize student thinking”, turns decolonization into a metaphor. As important as their goals may be, social justice, critical methodologies, or approaches that decenter settler perspectives have objectives that may be incommensurable with decolonization. Because settler colonialism is built upon an entangled triad structure of settler-native-slave, the decolonial desires of white, non-white, immigrant, postcolonial, and oppressed people, can similarly be entangled in resettlement, reoccupation, and reinhabitation that actually further settler colonialism. The metaphorization of decolonization makes possible a set of evasions, or “settler moves to innocence”, that problematically attempt to reconcile settler guilt and complicity, and rescue settler futurity. In this article, we analyze multiple settler moves towards innocence in order to forward “an ethic of incommensurability” that recognizes what is distinct and what is sovereign for project(s) of decolonization in relation to human and civil rights based social justice projects. We also point to unsettling themes within transnational/Third World decolonizations, abolition, and critical space-place pedagogies, which challenge the coalescence of social justice endeavors, making room for more meaningful potential alliances

Told-to narratives, or collaboratively produced texts by Aboriginal storytellers and (usually) non-Aboriginal writers, often confound traditional literary understandings of voice and authorship. In this innovative exploration, these unique narratives are not romanticized as unmediated translations of oral documents, nor are they dismissed as corruptions of original works. Rather, the approach emphasizes the interpenetration of authorship and collaboration. Discussing a wide range of told-to narratives, including ethnography, recorded (auto)biography, testimonial life narrative, documentary, myth, legend, and song, Sophie McCall explores the multifaceted implications of the choices that editors, translators, narrators, and filmmakers make as they channel these narratives into new forms. Focused on the 1990s, when debates over voice and representation were particularly explosive, this comprehensive study examines collaboratively produced texts in conjunction with key political events that have shaped the struggle for Aboriginal rights in Canada. Emphasizing the scope rather than the limits of the told-to narrative, McCall considers how Aboriginal voices have been represented in a range of forums such as public inquiries, commissioners’ reports, and land claims court cases. A captivating inquiry, First Person Plural offers a vital, interdisciplinary discussion of how told-to narratives contribute to larger debates about Indigenous voice and literary and political sovereignty. This innovative, interdisciplinary study will be of interest to students and scholars of Indigenous studies, textualized oral narrative, literary studies, and Canadian cultural studies