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En esta charla conversaremos sobre las luchas históricas por la reivindicación de los derechos del pueblo afro que están detrás de su estética, específicamente en dos de sus expresiones femeninas: el turbante afro y el pelo natural, los cuales han servido como elementos de resistencia para la pervivencia de las prácticas y costumbres ancestrales. Como parte de la exposición temporal del Museo del Oro 'A bordo de un navío esclavista, La Marie-Séraphique' (que se presentó en Bogotá del 7 de octubre de 2018 al 7 de abril de 2019) hablamos en el museo sobre algunos peinados ancestrales, como la espina de pescado, las tropas, el hundidito, el ciempiés y la vicha, y sobre los usos, significados y modelos de los turbantes afro, como la cadena del esclavo, la autoridad, el kitambala, el enkeycha y el doek. El termino mata ‘e pelo surge de las expresiones propias de nuestras ancestras, que se referían al pelo afro cómo una gran mata (árbol), frondosa, incontrolable y rizada, que requería unos cuidados particulares por su condición crespa, abundante y diversa. El cuerpo de la mujer negra, raizal y palenquera ha estado históricamente ligado a las luchas por la reivindicación de los derechos del pueblo afro, siendo la mata ‘e pelo el elemento estético que más las ha transmitido. Entre las personas de ancestros africanos, la estética del pelo afro se remonta a un pasado cargado de lucha y resistencia, pues las trenzas fueron usadas para la elaboración de mapas que marcaban el camino a la libertad de los cimarrones. Las mujeres se reunían en el patio para peinar a las más pequeñas. Diseñaban en su cabeza un mapa lleno de caminitos y salidas de escape, en el que ubicaban los montes, ríos y árboles más altos. Así, al verlas, los hombres sabían cuáles rutas tomar. Su código, desconocido para los amos, les permitía a los esclavizados huir. El balance humano de la trata de cautivos africanos a través del Atlántico es dramático: con una inmensa brutalidad, desplazó a 13 millones de hombres, mujeres y niños entre la segunda mitad del siglo XVI y finales del siglo XIX. #ElMuseoDelOroTambiénEsAfro Producción Banco de la República Realización Santiago Martínez

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.

When E. Carmen Ramos organized Our America: The Latino Presence in American Art (2013) at the Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington, DC, art holdings of Latinx artists at the institution were minimal and unbalanced. The museum lacked works by foundational figures; entire groups like Dominican Americans were missing, as were genres like abstract art; and with a collection dominated by colonial and folk art and work by Mexican Americans, it was impossible to produce any comprehensive exhibition of contemporary Latinx art, much less one that represented the diversity of artists and trends. Ramos was one of the few Latinx curators hired in the aftermath of the infamous 1994 “Willful Neglect” report documenting a historical pattern of discrimination at the Smithsonian Institute and calling for the hiring of Latinx curators to help direct the Smithsonian’s priorities in research, collections, and exhibitions.1 Twenty-five years later, this pattern of exclusion continues apace. In 2018, a study by UCLA’s Chicano Studies Research Center found that while the Smithsonian’s Latinx workforce grew from 2.5 percent to 10.1 percent, this growth falls short of representing the growth of the Latinx population, which since 1994 has doubled to 17.8 percent of the total population. In sum, the task of putting a dent in a mostly white canonical art history and collection was a daunting one, and whatever Ramos did would be a politically charged intervention. This would be the first major scholarly survey exhibition of Latinx art, a statement to insert it as central to US art history, and the first major show of its type in a major North American museum in decades.

Depuis quelques décennies, certains artistes colombiens cherchent à repenser ce que peut être aujourd’hui l’identité colombienne, et plus concrètement celle de l’artiste. Au-delà du stéréotype de ce qu’est le « Colombien » vu de l’extérieur, au-delà d’une histoire coloniale – et toutes ses problématiques – commune aux pays d’Amérique latine, ainsi que d’une histoire récente plus particulière connue pour son extrême violence, nous pouvons affirmer que l’identité colombienne est le résultat d’identités multiples, diverses et variées. Par ailleurs, il existe un dénominateur commun qui peut la définir car elle s’est construite durant ces deux derniers siècles à partir d’un concept : celui de « l’hybridité ».

Stemming from Grosfoguel’s decolonial discourse, and particularly his enquiry on how to steer away from the alternative between Eurocentric universalism and third world fundamentalism in the production of knowledge, this article aims to respond to this query in relation to the field of the art produced by Latin American women artists in the past four decades. It does so by investigating the decolonial approach advanced by third world feminism (particularly scholar Chandra Talpade Mohanty) and by rescuing it from—what I reckon to be—a methodological impasse. It proposes to resolve such an issue by reclaiming transnational feminism as a way out from what I see as a fundamentalist and essentialist tactic. Following from a theoretically and methodological introduction, this essay analyzes the practice of Cuban-born artist Marta María Pérez Bravo, specifically looking at the photographic series Para Concebir (1985–1986); it proposes a decolonial reading of her work, which merges third world feminism’s nation-based approach with a transnational outlook, hence giving justice to the migration of goods, ideas, and people that Ella Shohat sees as deeply characterizing the contemporary cultural background. Finally, this article claims that Pérez Bravo’s oeuvre offers the visual articulation of a decolonial strategy, concurrently combining global with local concerns.

Publié en 2000, le livre de Boaventura de Sousa Santos — un sociologue émérite portugais — intitulé Critique de la raison indolente a eu un grand impact au Brésil comme dans le reste de l’Amérique Latine (De Sousa Santos, 2000/2003). Il y développait ce qu’il a appelé « les Épistémologies du Sud » global en opposition aux « Épistémologies du Nord », global également. De Sousa Santos entendait par « Épistémologies du Sud » les connaissances, théories et savoirs qui réfléchissent avec créativit...

There was no meaningful attempt to counter the black aesthetic with conceptual criteria for creating and evaluating art which would simultaneously acknowledge its ideological content even as it allowed for expansive notions of artistic freedom. To re-open the creative space that much of the black aesthetic movement closed down, it seems vital for those involved in contemporary black arts to engage in a revitalized discussion of aesthetics. In part, a radical aesthetic acknowledges that the people are constantly changing positions, locations, that their needs and concerns vary, that these diverse directions must correspond with shifts in critical thinking. Innovative African-American artists have rarely documented their process, their critical thinking on the subject of aesthetics. Certainly many of the revolutionary, visionary critical perspectives on music that were inherent to John Coltrane’s oppositional aesthetics and his cultural production will never be shared because they were not fully documented.

Searching the critical work of post-colonial critics, the author found much writing that bespeaks the continued fascination with the way white minds, particularly the colonial imperialist traveler, perceive blackness, and very little expressed interest in representations of whiteness in the black imagination. Some white people may even imagine there is no representation of whiteness in the black imagination, especially one that is based on concrete observation or mythic conjecture. Stereotypes black folks maintain about white folks are not the only representations of whiteness in the black imagination. Yet it is this representation of whiteness in the black imagination, first learned in the narrow confines of poor black rural community, that is sustained by the author travels to many different locations. Theorizing diverse journeying is crucial to the people understanding of any politics of location.

This essay aims to trace an overview of the decolonial aesthetics through the analysis of artistic expressions that occurred in Latin American territory. This analysis will allow us to enhance the cultural and artistic practices within its plurality and the typical spatial archetypes within its temporal resignification. The necessity of creation and the search for new epistemological fields translate the historical movements of the Latin-American cultural mouvance and the juxtaposition of temporalities, practices and the confluence of knowledge. We can find a stage of resistance and socio-historical borders subverted, mainly in the context of artistic and cultural manifestations and its capacity of invention and relativization. This essay aims to bring a reflection on the construction of cultural spaces and the dismantling of a single hegemonic perspective to define the artistic practices. The analysis and the epistemological questioning of the Latin-American trans-historical movement delineates an overview of the history of artistic productions that came out of practices and every-day life inventions and the elaboration of temporary spaces of claim and contestation through exhibitions, performances, festivals, and so forth. The idea of subverting a geopolitical imaginary and a cartography of the world (even if initially in local dynamics) consists of a central focus of this work.

El feminismo hegemónico latinoamericano entró en crisis en los años noventa por su creciente contubernio con el Estado liberal, así como por su práctica política carente de teoría. No supo cómo responder a los desaires de la izquierda masculinista y quedó intacto por los nuevos teóricos de la descolonialidad. Su acción y pensamiento no sólo se manifestaron profundamente colonizados por Occidente, sino que no encontraron una voz clara para entrar en diálogo con ciertas corrientes del feminimo latinoamericano que cuestionaron sus postulados de género, raza y heteronormatividad.

Au sein du tournant décolonial que la théorie féministe latino-américaine a commencé à prendre, un nouveau concept a émergé, qui pourrait constituer un changement de paradigme dans notre compréhension du genre. Il s'agit du concept colonialité du genre, forgé par la philosophe argentine Maria Lugones dans ses deux derniers articles : « Heterosexualism and the Colonial/ Modern Gender System » (2007) et, plus récemment, « Toward a Decolonial Feminism » (2010), article qui n'a pas encore été tra...

In the 1960s, topless entertainment became legal in San Francisco, although cross-dressing continued to be criminalized. This article documents queer Latina/x visual and performance cultures of San Francisco’s strip club industry during this critical moment. It employs visual and performance analyses that draw from ethnographic interviews and archival research about three Latinas who performed as exotic dancers during this period, two of whom were out transsexuals: Roxanne Lorraine Alegria, Vicki Starr, and Lola Raquel. Engaging Marcia Ochoa’s notion of “spectacular femininities” and Juana María Rodríguez’s theory of “queer gesture,” the article maps out a queer Latina/x herstoriography about the early days of topless entertainment in San Francisco. It demonstrates how the transgressive practices of these Latina performers enrich genealogies of queer and Latina/x performance and visual cultures since the 1960s. It thus contributes to the expansion and intersection of the fields of performance studies, Latina/x studies, and feminist, gender, and sexuality studies. These fields and their intertwinings offer critical tools to resist the sexism, homophobia, racism, transphobia, and whorephobia that pervade every level of society, as well as the cultural amnesia to which San Francisco has been increasingly prone due to its incessant gentrification and growing technocracy since the early 2010s.RESUMEN Este artículo documenta las culturas visuales y de performance latinas/x queer de los clubes de striptease de San Francisco durante un momento crítico en la historia de la ciudad. En la década de 1960, los shows en topless se legalizaron en San Francisco, aunque el travestismo se continuó criminalizando. Otálvaro-Hormillosa emplea análisis visuales y de performance que se basan en entrevistas etnográficas e investigación de archivo sobre tres latinas que actuaron como bailarinas exóticas durante este período, dos de las cuales reconocían públicamente que eran transexuales: Roxanne Lorraine Alegria, Vicki Starr y Lola Raquel. En diálogo con la noción de “feminidades espectaculares” de Marcia Ochoa y la teoría de “gestos queer” de Juana María Rodríguez, Otálvaro-Hormillosa describe una historiografía latina/x queer propiamente femenina sobre los primeros días del entretenimiento en topless en San Francisco. El artículo demuestra cómo las prácticas transgresoras de estas intérpretes latinas enriquecen las genealogías de las culturas visuales y de performance queer y latinas/x desde los años sesenta. Al hacerlo, contribuye a la expansión e intersección de los campos de los estudios de performance, estudios latinas/x, y estudios feministas, de género y de sexualidad. Estos campos y sus entrecruzamientos pueden ofrecer herramientas críticas para resistir el sexismo, la homofobia, el racismo, la transfobia y la putafobia que permea todos los niveles de la sociedad, así como la amnesia cultural a la que San Francisco ha sido cada vez más propenso debido a su incesante gentrificación y creciente tecnocracia desde principios de los años 2010.RESUMO Este artigo documenta a cultura visual e de performance na indústria de clubes de strip-tease de São Francisco, durante um momento crítico da história da cidade. Nos anos 60, o entretenimento topless se tornou legal em São Francisco, embora a prática do cross-dressing continuasse criminalizada. Otálvaro-Hormillosa emprega análise visual e de performance baseadas em entrevistas etnográficas e pesquisas de arquivos sobre três latinas que se apresentaram como dançarinas exóticas durante esse período, duas das quais eram transexuais: Roxanne Lorraine Alegria, Vicki Starr e Lola Raquel. Engajando a noção de “feminilidades espetaculares” de Marcia Ochoa e a teoria do “gesto queer” de Juana María Rodríguez, Otálvaro-Hormillosa mapeia uma herstoriografia queer latina/x sobre os sobre os primórdios do entretenimento topless em São Francisco. O artigo demonstra como as práticas transgressivas dessas artistas latinas enriquecem as genealogias das culturas visual e de performance queer e latina/x desde os anos 1960. Deste modo, contribui para a expansão e intersecção dos campos de estudos da performance, estudos latinos e estudos feministas, de gênero e sexualidade. Esses campos e seus entrelaçamentos podem oferecer ferramentas críticas para resistir ao sexismo, homofobia, racismo, transfobia e putafobia que permeiam todos os níveis da sociedade, bem como a amnésia cultural para a qual San Francisco tem sido cada vez mais propensa devido à sua gentrificação incessante e crescente tecnocracia desde o início dos anos 2010.

In 'Eros Ideologies' Laura E. Perez explores the decolonial through Western and non-Western thought concerning personal and social well-being. Drawing upon Jungian, people-of-color, and spiritual psychology alongside non-Western spiritual philosophies of the interdependence of all life-forms, she writes of the decolonial as an ongoing project rooted in love as an ideology to frame respectful coexistence of social and cultural diversity. In readings of art that includes self-portraits by Frida Kahlo, Ana Mendieta, and Yreina D. Cervantez, the drawings and paintings of Chilean American artist Liliana Wilson, and Favianna Rodriguez's screen-printed images, Perez identifies art as one of the most valuable laboratories for creating, imagining, and experiencing new forms of decolonial thought. Such art expresses what Perez calls eros ideologies: understandings of social and natural reality that foreground the centrality of respect and care of self and others as the basis for a more democratic and responsible present and future. Employing a range of writing styles and voices-from the poetic to the scholarly-Perez shows how art can point to more just and loving ways of being.

A groundbreaking critique of the West's historical, cultural, and political perceptions of the East that is—three decades after its first publication—one of the most important books written about our divided world. "Intellectual history on a high order ... and very exciting." —The New York Times In this wide-ranging, intellectually vigorous study, Said traces the origins of "orientalism" to the centuries-long period during which Europe dominated the Middle and Near East and, from its position of power, defined "the orient" simply as "other than" the occident. This entrenched view continues to dominate western ideas and, because it does not allow the East to represent itself, prevents true understanding. Source: Publisher

El siguiente artículo es una respuesta a la exposición de arte indígena contemporáneo Gran Chaco Gualamba. Arte, Cosmovisión, Soberanía (Chaco, Argentina; Julio de 2013). Sin desviarse de los propios objetivos de la muestra, problematiza la práctica curatorial como una forma de ver y mostrar a la producción artística de las poblaciones originarias como artefactos significantes íntimamente enlazados con sus formas de vida comunitaria -y no meramente obras de arte autónomas y asépticas de toda función social-. Contrastando las definiciones del equipo de curadoras, el corpus de obras expuestas y el discurso de pobladores originarios, se muestra que este intento por recuperar el nexo orgánico entre arte, cosmovisiones y vida en comunidad resulta trunco, dado que los propios pobladores originarios consideran esta vinculación como una circunstancia históricamente pretérita, previa a los procesos de colonización. Recuperando las luchas presentes de las comunidades, que a falta de ese pasado armonioso plantean su identidad como resistencia necesaria para un futuro distinto – mejor-. This work is a response to a contemporary indigenous art exhibition titled «Gran Chaco Gualamba - Arte, Cosmovisión, Soberanía» (Chaco, Argentina; July 2013). Consistent with the purposes of this exhibition, the article problematizes curatorial practice as a way to present the artistic production of the indigenous populations as significant artifacts intimately involved in the daily community life, and not merely as autonomous artistic objects with no social function. By contrasting the definitions provided by the curatorial team,the corpus of artworks exhibited and the native peoples’ speech, the article shows how the exhibit fails to recover the link between art, cosmovisions and community life because the native populations themselves consider these three spheres as an outdated historical circumstance, previous to the colonization processes. Finally, the current struggles of the communities are mapped which, in the absence of that harmonious past, pose their identity as a necessary resistance for a better future.