Tag Archives: Chile

Horse hair – the new Chilean gold

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Crin is one of Chile’s most distinctive folk crafts. In markets around the country you will find delicate forms, often taking the shape of insects, woven out of dyed horsehair. Despite its distribution around the country, almost all Crin originates from a small town called Rari.

Crin appeared mysteriously around 200 years ago, as local women found they could weave poplar roots into figures. After discovering the flexibility of horse hair they combined a Mexican plant fibre Ixtle which provided structural strength. It’s not clear why this technique emerged there in particular, but the town’s proximity to a spa resort meant that there was a ready market for cositas (little things).

Crin is made entirely by hand. No equipment is involved, even knitting needles. But unlike the chunky results of finger-knitting, crin is exquisitely fine.

As a folk craft, crin was rarely taken seriously. However, it is now finding a niche as a versatile, colourful and particularly Chilean component in the burgeoning new jewellery scene in Chile. But its recent success comes with complications.

Women crin weavers from Rari

Women crin weavers from Rari

Women crin weavers from Rari

A Santiago architect Paula Leal has been exploring ways of collaborating with artisans from Rari. An earlier attempt with weaver Alba Sepúlveda led to the award for the 2008 UNESCO Seal of Excellence for Handicraft Products. The product incorporated modernist forms of crin into a hair clasp.

But the business of incorporating crin into jewellery is actually quite a political issue. In some ways, it parallels the movement of New Zealand jewellers who sought to include local materials and techniques such as jade carving into their work. In some cases, this meant reviving some of the lost Indigenous skills, while at the same time not simply imitating traditional Maori culture.

In the case of Chile, it is still the case that you can’t incorporate crin into your work without the willing cooperation of an artisan. It seems the nature of Chilean society that local skills are not easily generalisable. It would be extremely rare for someone in Santiago to teach themselves how to weave with crin. This division of labour creates an asymmetry, particular in the relative prices of crin sold in markets and jewellery featuring crin in fashionable jewellery boutiques.

Even for someone who has achieved success such as Paula, this can be difficult. She had to find some new crin weavers when her previous collaborator broke the partnership. Apparently, she felt resentment that she was sharing the stage with a designer who didn’t actually make anything herself.

Manuela Tromben and Paula Leal

Manuela Tromben and Paula Leal

Manuela Tromben and Paula Leal

Recently, Paula Leal formed a partnership with fellow architect Manuela Tromben in the development of an exhibition devoted to crin. Orígenes Y Atuendos Imaginarios (Origins and Imaginary Outfits) included jewellery and wall work that manipulated elements of traditional crin to create new works. For instance, the cylindrical form that normally is coiled to form the body of a snail was uncoiled and introduced into a necklace form. Local jewellers Walka Studio added the silver attachments.

Orígenes Y Atuendos Imaginarios installation

Orígenes Y Atuendos Imaginarios installation

Orígenes Y Atuendos Imaginarios installation

Crin has a long way to go. There’s potential for much experimentation. It seems inevitable that someone in Santiago will eventually learn to make it themselves. But I hope that doesn’t exclude the possibility that some of the women from Rari might themselves engage actively with product development.

But here, on the other side of the Pacific, a recent exhibition in Melbourne shows an alternative path. Vicky Shukuroglou recently completed her Masters in Gold and Silversmithing. Vicky had previously taken a South Project residency in Brazil and was interested in weaving with alternative materials. While at RMIT she had furthered her manipulation of horse hair to create extremely delicate woven structures.

Vicky Shukuroglou object [PW] steel wire, horse hair 60 x 90mm

Vicky Shukuroglou object [PW] steel wire, horse hair 60 x 90mm

steel wire, horse hair
Vicky Shukuroglou object [BHH] steel wire, horse hair [double bass bow] 150 x 130 x 130mm [variable]

Vicky Shukuroglou object [BHH] steel wire, horse hair [double bass bow] 150 x 130 x 130mm [variable]

steel wire, horse hair

Vicky’s objects are designed deliberately to appear insubstantial. They certainly are not made to function as jewellery, lacking solid form and metal clasps. But as such, they might seem to be true to the wispy material itself, allowing it to unravel freely. Some are likely to worry that she is taking the object out of the normal circuits of exchange that connect it with people’s lives – it can only live on a plinth. Is this a possible path in Chile?

In all, what’s happening with crin tells a story similar to other crafts across the South. Part of the post-colonial process involves coming to terms with the immediate world around us. This means not always looking North for what’s precious, but learning in how to find the beauty in what is at hand.

That process has barely begun.

A world vision for Mapuche

Standing around the coals discussing craft product

Standing around the coals discussing craft product

Standing around the coals discussing craft product

Alejandra Bobidilla (right) showing new designs at a cross-roads

Alejandra Bobidilla (right) showing new designs at a cross-roads

Alejandra Bobidilla (right) showing new designs at a cross-roads

Like most other colonies, the nation of Chile was established through a forced dispossession of Indigenous peoples from their land. One group proved particularly hard to displace. Prior to the arrival of the Spanish, the Mapuche had successful resisted an invasion from the Incas. After this, they held off the Spanish for nearly 300 years, as colonists appropriated land to their north and south. The middle territory of Mapuche ranged from Concepción in the north to Chiloé in the south.

Today, Mapuche make up 4% of the population in Chile. Their centre is Temuco, a city of a quarter of a million people, now a tourist hub. In the region of Temuco are many Mapuche communities, which are mostly poor and subsist on crafts and agricultural production. The crafts of weaving and jewellery are particularly strong among Mapuche. In Chile, they are known as well for their herbal medicines and elaborate cosmography, based on the cardinal points.

The World Vision office in Temuco is focused on enabling Mapuche communities to have greater independence and capacity. In July this year, I travelled with Alejandra Bobadilla to communities west of Temuco, towards Puetro Saavedra. These were people known as lafkenche, people of the sea.

Maria Mallafil, Mapuche leader and weaver

Maria Mallafil, Mapuche leader and weaver

Maria Mallafil, Mapuche leader and weaver

Alejandra’s main mission was to encourage handmade textile production among the Mapuche women. We were accompanied by a Mapuche elder, Maria Mallafil, whose familiarity with the communities and understanding of their craft was essential. We mostly met in community halls. These were small rooms with walls covered by notices and posters of common concern. We were offered tortillas and cakes with tea, sometimes matte. For more remote artisans, we would visit their homes.

Both women gave feedback on their weaving and suggested new opportunities. In particular, Alejandra had samples from a Colombian designer for vests which were likely to be popular in the urban markets. She showed these designs and discussed how they might be produced. Along the way, she also dealt with issues ranging from health to agriculture. It seemed she was a very important conduit for information between the communities.

Helena Mallefil, Mapuche basket-maker

Helena Mallefil, Mapuche basket-maker

Helena Mallefil, Mapuche basket-maker

I was particularly struck by the visit to Helena Mallefil, a basket-maker. She had a particularly humble one-room house, with no glass in the windows, but with a very cosy tray of coals to keep us warm. She make a wonderful orange cake and tea. Looking around at her baskets, I realised that I had purchased one of them last year at ONA as a gift for my mother. As often, I thought of the distance between her seeming threadbare life and the comfortable clientele of ONA in Santiago.

Her baskets are strong, well-made and beautifully coloured with natural dyes. But I noticed one round basket in particular which was adorned with a head, wings and feet. It seemed like a penguin, but it was probably a hen (for putting eggs in). I could see great potential here, following what has happened with Aboriginal basket-makers in Australia’s Western desert, who now produce lively grass sculptures.

Cristina Sagreda designer and her son Daniel in the shop where they sell Mapuche handmade clothing

Cristina Sagreda designer and her son Daniel in the shop where they sell Mapuche handmade clothing

Cristina Sagreda designer and her son Daniel in the shop where they sell Mapuche handmade clothing

Back in Santiago, Alejandra took me to visit the shop in downtown Providencia (rich suburb of Santiago) where much of the Mapuche textiles are sold. It was a very nice shop, with a wide range of craft products, particularly jewellery. But I thought it was a shame that there wasn’t an outlet that might tell a Mapuche story more completely. I could see it would also make a difference if the designers were able to spend time directly with Mapuche in developing and producing new works.

World Vision do have a broad view of possibilities for Mapuche. They are currently working on a cultural exchange between Mapuche and Australian Indigenous. The facilities offered for Indigenous culture here, such as the Koorie Heritage Trust, may well be the subject of envy on the other side of the Pacific. But the resilience and pride of the Mapuche could be inspiring here too.

The Mapuche have a particularly rich musical, poetic and craft culture. Colonisation has seen them pushed to the margins of Chilean society. It seems a worthwhile challenge to find ways of bridging that divide.

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The ethical turn, turn, turn

‘The rich swell up with pride, the poor from hunger.’
Sholom Aleichem

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As we saw a ‘linguistic turn’ transform humanities in the late 20th century, on our side of the millennium it seems that we are witnessing a wave of cultural accountability – an ‘ethical turn’.

Culture is no longer ‘innocent’ of politics. An artist cannot draw inspiration from the third world without accounting for his or her economic privileges. Similarly in disciplines such as anthropology and archaeology it is an expectation that the researcher works in partnership with the community – the knowledge which they glean must be paid for, usually in services.

This ethical turn may seem rather negative. Guilt can lead towards greater distance between cultures, as those from rich countries are hesitant to be seen as cultural predators. But there are positive developments too.

The existence of a just partnership between rich and poor is a valuable ideal, and increasingly we seem willing to pay for it. Fair Trade sales in commodities such as chocolate and coffee have risen greatly, up to 50% a year. Given the modest nature of these purchases, it is unlikely that they will be affected by the economic downturn.

Previously, it was the ‘customer is always right’. But now the interests of the producer have become relevant. There is a multitude of products that advertise their benefits to the community of origin, including bottled water, textiles, furniture, cosmetics and medicines.

As this trend continues the build, it naturally becomes commodified. We cringe to learn that McDonalds is now a member of the Rainbow Alliance. What guarantee do we have that such associations are more than marketing gimmicks, there to enhance the primary brand? As Nestlé, Coca-Cola and other global brands jump on the ethical bandwagon, we are tempted to become cynical about the whole ethical turn. How can we tell the difference between substance and advertising?

At this point, it seems important that those designing these products find a way of sustaining the trust of the consumer. The challenge is to provide the consumer with convincing information about the arrangement with the producing community. It’s hard to convey this information just as dry facts, there needs to be a compelling narrative about the challenges faced by the community and their current aspirations.

This is partly a design challenge. How do you develop products that ‘feel good’? How might the consumer feel that his or her purchase not only promises themselves goodness, but in a small way makes the world a better place? This product might be the exception. This product may not be not drawing on an unsustainable resource, subjecting displaced peoples to sweatshop conditions, exporting industrial pollution from first to third worlds, etc.

So we need to find a way of designing ethical value that will last. It’s not good enough to make ethics fashionable. Today’s trend is tomorrow’s dumpster. And it’s not enough to be dewy-eyed. Today’s romantic myth is tomorrows hardened realism.

The project of a Code of Practice for Craft-Design Collaborations is designed to strengthen this ethical turn in product development. The initial phase is to open this question up for discussion in a way where no view is excluded, from the most idealistic to the most cynical. It is this openness that will serve to help develop an enduring understanding of the nature of an object’s ethical value.

This year, there are already two workshops planned to start this discussion. The first will be at Selling Yarns next month. The second will be in Santiago, Chile, in September.

The silver lining

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A scene from November 2005, when the rise of the stock market seemed as endless as the war on terror.

Below is a copy of the speech I made for the opening of the graduation show of RMIT Gold & Silversmithing 2008. It was a wonderful show. Students showed how they had mastered their materials by transforming a cold material like metal into quite organic shapes and textures. It was difficult in such a celebratory atmosphere to raise the issue of our current financial crisis. But it seemed important to address this directly, in a positive way, rather than have it fester away as a silent doubt that dare not be spoken.

For years we have been reading predictions of a financial crisis. It wasn’t so much a question of it, but when. There was just too much leveraging going on. It would take a small shock for the market to suddenly call the bluff of derivative dealers, and the system would implode.

So while we’ve enjoyed an unprecedented period of economic growth, we have always had in the back of our minds the sense that this would come to an end. This leant an air of unreality to our prosperity—that we were living on borrowed time, as well as money.

And now that the crash has come, with prospect of a long and hard recession, we can’t help experiencing a little relief. It’s like sitting in the dentist’s chair, squirming at the pain, but inwardly knowing that at last that nagging toothache is being addressed.

While the financial situation is the ongoing story of late 2008, it has special pertinence here today, as we welcome the next generation of jewellers into the fold of Melbourne’s extraordinary jewellery culture. The last five years have seen amazing growth in the jewellery sector, with one or two new galleries opening every year. I can’t think of a city in the world with this many new jewellery galleries. And this has provided a rich field of opportunity for young jewellers, who have been extraordinarily successful in attracting the surplus capital created by an economic boom.

So what will the future hold? Jewellery is very much at the discretionary end of a personal budget. Apart from wedding and engagement rings, there is little reason other than whim to purchase an item of jewellery. We need to face the prospect that Melbourne will not have so many jewellery outlets next year, as it does today.

That’s a difficult prospect to consider right now, as we are cheering on these talented young jewellers, into a world that may not be so inclined to buy a $1,000 necklace, or $800 brooch.

But in the immortal words of Percy Bysshe Shelly, ‘If winter comes, can spring be far behind?’ While for the past few years we have been distracted by dark clouds on the horizon, now the storm is here, we can focus instead on the silver lining. As Spinoza said, ‘There is no hope without fear, and no fear without hope’.

So while cycle will eventually begin its upswing, we have possibly two or three years when things will be tight. What can be done during the lean years?

I’ve been recently fascinated by the contrast between rich and poor in Australian jewellery. This is self-evident in jewellery, with the quality of metal and stones marking a clear class distinction in their wearers. There’s an obvious contrast between the elite conceptual works made by jewellers purchased from galleries with an international reputation, and the cheap manufactured chain wear you find on the pavement in Swanston Street.

But rich and poor do not always follow a clear demographic divide. These styles quite readily flip their assigned position in society. Nothing so defines the working class as bling with bold fake stones, while versions of poverty chic are enduringly popular among the cultural elites. Ali G versus Naomi Klein.

Poor craft provides a potential rich vein of creative endeavour during a recession. And Melbourne jewellery has a strong tradition of found materials—what Penelope Pollard refers to as objets trouvé in her erudite catalogue essay.

But how will this jewellery circulate if there are fewer galleries. I think it’s interesting at this point to look across the Pacific to our cousins in Latin America, which experienced quite radical financial crisis in the early years of this millennium. In Chile’s capital, Santiago, there is a new cultural movement they called abajismo, from the word ‘abajo’ for below. This movement is led by the young people who are leaving their wealthy families in the suburbs to live close to the street in the inner city. Like Melbourne’s enchanted glade of Gertrude Street Fitzroy, a new streetwise economy has been borne.

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By chance one evening recently I was walking down a very busy street in Santiago’s Bellavista, equivalent of Fitzroy, and stumbled across an incongruous looking vegetable garden in the middle of the sidewalk. Various greens showed signs of a loving care and there was a sign in the middle inviting neighbours to take a leaf or two, as long as they left enough for the plant to keep growing. I traced the garden to a small shopfront right opposite called Jo!, which contained a wild assortment of inexpensive jewellery made from found materials like computer keyboards. Talking with the owner, while she continued assembling these pieces on her shop counter, it seemed she had a real engagement with her neighbourhood.

That’s an enduring story of financial downturn. It brings people together. When things look good, our focus is more on individual aspirations, distinguishing ourselves from others. But during bad times, we must rely more on others.

10,000 hours is a long-term investment. You have a lifetime ahead to reap the rewards. Thankfully, these skills will be honed in the first several years after graduation. Necessity will be a faithful companion, guiding your choice of materials and design.

As the Chinese say, ’the gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man perfected without trials.’

The Discovery of the New Mundito

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It’s great to see the students at the University of Valparaiso continuing to embrace creative challenges that people like Professor Gunther throw at them.

I presented a workshop on the theme of El Mundo de las Cositas, in relation to the World of Small Things exhibition that is being developed for Craft Victoria next year. We talked about the alternative economy of small things, including the festival of Alasitas in Bolivia. The students invented a wide range of little objects with a special function to play in our lives, including this figure that is used in a complex drinking game.

Cositas are part of a growing interest among Chileans in what they call Abajismo, a fascination for developments like ‘poor craft’ that draw inspiration from the street. There’s a lot, lot more to say about this, which I hope to say at a later date.

As they say in Chile, ‘Chaoito!’

If the Chinchorros could speak…

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There was a mesmerising exhibition at the Palacio de Moneda of artifacts from the Arica region in the north of Chile. Among the wonderful works of basketry, weaving, jewellery and carving from the ancient cultures of the north are the fabled Chinchorro mummies. These predate the Egyptian mummies, originating back as far as 5,000 BC. Everyone in the chinchorro society was mummified, including children like the one on the left. Skin and flesh was removed from the body and replaced by animal fibre, hair and clay. The faces of the mummies are particularly uncanny, created from a clay mask. It would make a wonderful source of inspiration for a contemporary Chilean ceramicist, particularly with the theme of the ‘missing’ still an important political issue.

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Today I had the privilege to visit the Officios del Fuego at the Escuela de Artes Aplicadas (Skills of the Fire at the School of Applied Arts) thanks to the invitation of its director Simone Racz who had participated in the workshop at MAVI. It’s a wonderful establishment teaching ceramics, jewellery and glass in concentrated two year degrees as well as public courses. One of its main benefits is that it employs as many as 32 artisans each teaching a specialist skill. One of its main public events is a festival of artisans in the street, which happens in late November. The school includes a residency space and I’m keen to see someone from Australia spend some time at the school.

But there are questions. Señora Racz was explaining to me about their teaching methods, which often involve the study of a particular pre-Colombian culture from which designs are abstracted for application in new forms. For an Australian, this seems a little strange. We would rarely think of using indigenous designs, and if we did there are strict protocols about asking permission.

The absence of any living representative of these cultures is disturbing for an Australian. But one must always be careful about making judgements. Australia is hardly a model of cultural cohabitation. While Latin America may have been colonised more ruthlessly, there was also greater mixing of races than in Australia.

But an outsider can’t help but notice the shadow of the past and feel the power of the continuing presence of artifacts like Chinchorro mummies, wondering… What would they say about all this?

This would be a very powerful subject for a collaboration between art and craft in Chile.

The low craft in Santiago

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Jo! is a new radical craft shop in the Santiago suburb of Bellavista, which is usually throbbing at night with street life. The objects within have mostly been made quickly out of recycled materials. I picked up a brooch made from keyboard keys for $2 Australian.

The owner is originally from the ‘provinces’ and remembers her first ever sale from a little garden that she maintained. In honour of this, she has established a huerto (plot garden) on the busy street. She was surprised to see the space respected and everything kept in its place. Once the plants grow, her intention is to place a notice inviting neighbours to take from mature plants.

Jo! seems another example of the kind of abajismo (pride in lowness) that is so dynamic in Chilean culture today. Another example are the cheap handmade books published by Anamita Cartonera in honour of people who live on the streets.

Craft contamination

 
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The workshop series at MAVI finished with a day-long session looking at the various elements in putting together a craft exhibition. I was quite surprised by the experimental approach that was taken by participants. We had three quite basic tables to work with. One group started piling other furniture on top.
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Another used one of the group herself as the plinth on which to display objects. And the last group infiltrated the stairs with stolen objects accessible via the adjacent lift.

Craft in Chile has the potential not only to present objects of great interest but also to animate them with stories and a little local attitude.

I learned a great deal from the participants. I’m quite amazed at the breadth of projects they are involved in. It was quite a privilege to work with them and I hope there can something that comes of this. Certainly for the World of Small Things exhibition and discussions around the Code of Practice for Craft-Design Collaborations.

Conversation on the sidelines continued about the strangeness of bringing something artisanal into the gallery. It was obvious that the works were strangers to this environment. The challenge ahead is to see what happens when someone starts knocking on the door of the exhibition committee. Perhaps someone might start a gallery themselves..

The audacity of craft

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It was a relief to see with the second day of the workshop another good crowd. There does seem to be an interest here in doing something more with craft. I wonder sometimes whether coming from a foreign culture like Australia I am in danger of contaminating a more traditional craft scene such as in Chile. I come with a more academic approach to the idea of craft which can potentially alienate the artisans themselves.

But sometimes it’s good to stir things up. Paula Magazine recently rang a short piece about Justo Pastor Mellado, an important Chilean curator – gatekeeper – of visual arts. He makes all the right noises – against consumerism, fashion, conservatism, etc.  But there’s a sense of righteousness behind this as well. As though, ‘What can you expect from the world?’ Maybe this sentiment comes more from the journalist that the curator. But it leads to a kind of defeatism, as though the forces of evil will always find their way, no matter how straight the path. It’s a hard, critical, view of life, but it also justifies a kind of disengagement too. Why bother?

Perhaps that is a bigger challenge than getting craft into art galleries. The task is to find an door that is open, not just for the language of materials spoken by lowly artisans, for anything. From this distance, Barack Obama’s ‘audacity of hope’ seems a slick marketing phrase, following the yellow brick road of the American dream that has lead the world to the present abyss. But, on the other hand, maybe a little bit of hope isn’t such a bad thing. Like salt, in small proportions it enhances the flavour of things. But too much of it becomes poisonous.

Working with organisations like Raiz Diseño and ONA, I can see that there’s salt on the table. Today I also learned about the marvelous Mapuche craft promoted by the Chilean version of World Vision (funded by Australia). Chile is certainly a country filled with possibility.

Anyhow, tomorrow is the workshop when we get so see how craft as a ‘yoga for the mind’ is translated into authentic Chileno. Perhaps we can pick the lock.

The Andes is revealed

I am in Santiago for a little while presenting a series of lectures and workshops on the theme of ‘craft as art’. The presentation is organised by Raiz Diseno and supported by ONA in partnership with MAVI.

The series basically involves outlining the practice of ‘contemporary craft’ as practiced in countries like Australia, and seeing how it might apply to Chile. There are many obstacles in this direction. ‘Artesanías’ is an inexact translation of ‘craft’. While craft is a largely middle class activity in Australia, in Chile artisans have quite a low status, despite their importance for national identity. But in Chile at this point in time, there seems to be so many people are wanting to open up the space between the gallery and the shop. It seems worth a try.

There was a great audience for the first lecture last night. The question of the lecture was the relationship between art, design and craft. It seemed useful to have a reasonable simple model of art to begin with, so I based the argument around a ‘yoga for the mind’.

The progress was steady and the mixture of Spanish-English-Spanglish gave us time to digest some of the strange practices on the other side of the Pacific. After two hours, the audience was still engaged and took the opportunity for some quite spirited discussion. As often happens, much of the passion evoked was about the barriers separating craft off from the centres of power. It helped greatly having this event in a visual art gallery, as it provided a good sign that opportunities exist, if we know how to ask for them.

It’s a reasonably clear day in Santiago. The smog is a thin veil, behind which you can just make out the Andes. And from MAVI, we can just glimpse the kind of creative expressions that craft might be able to achieve in a gallery.