This weekend the Amazon and Hydroelectric collective held an international workshop in Peru called ‘Regional Lessons about Hydroelectric Projects.’ Its purpose was to discuss the politic context in which such projects arise in the Amazon basin.

The workshop included the participation of community leaders and specialists from different countries.

The principal objective was to debate and inform about the socio-environmental impact of the construction of hydroelectric projects in the Amazon.

Peruvian César Gamboa, member of ‘Law, Environment and Natural Resources’ (DAR), said that “the recent socio-environmental conflicts demonstrate that it is the time to strengthen a process of decision making from the bottom up”.

At the same time, he also argued that “the planning of the energy sector is a precondition to negotiations with the Peruvian for the export of hydro-power resources.”

Contributing to this notion of a need for change, Luis Novoa, researcher for the University of Rio de Janeiro, analysed the current Brazilian energy model. Following this research he noted that the benefits of the current model were not equally shared within the country.

Present at the workshop were community leaders Dora Gauto, Ana Plens and Ruth Buendía. All of them have been affected by the installation of hydro-electric projects in Paraguay, Brazil and Peru respectively.

The Amazon and Hydroelectric collective is affiliated with DAR, Rural Education Services (SER) and the Peruvian Society of Environmental Law (SPDA), amongst others.

 

Story courtesy of Agencia Pulsar.

In Artistas Artos’s club de pelea – or fight club – two artists, squaring off in a public arena, dressed in full battle array and painting on the same oversized canvas, attempt to render the most ferocious warrior in combat with the other, resulting in a live-action art fight.

The logic, according to artist Federico Gonzales, is that violence is emblematic in the lives of many of the women who make up Artistas Artos, a group of former inmates and teachers from an art workshop in Ezeiza women’s prison.

“Violence and social injustice were themes that always came up in discussions, so we decided to go to the heart of the matter and invite artists to battle, to see what would happen,” said Gonzales.

Artistas Artos and its marquee event are the result of ten years of collaborative creation that began when the inmates at Ezeiza Women’s Correctional Facility were offered a unique opportunity: A new workshop at the prison would teach and develop the artistic trades of the prisoners, allowing them to keep any earnings from artwork sold. And like the workers in the prison’s laundry room, they were paid a monthly salary, an enviable position for any artist (except for the prison part, of course).

Most of the inmates who participated in the workshop – called La Estampa – had no previous artistic experience, but received instruction from trained artists in drawing, painting, collage, xylography, and silk-screening. They exhibited their work at contemporary art fairs like ArteBA, and the programme began to gain certain prestige.

If that sounds too good to be true, it was. According to Elisa O’Farrell, a former teacher in the prison and current member of Artistas Artos, the city government of Buenos Aires, starting in 2007, first censured the artistic production of the workshop, then cut funding, limiting the programme’s reach and leaving many of its teachers out of work.

“I believe the city government isn’t interested in taking care of marginalized sectors of the population. Nor are they interested in education or the arts, and we were at the crux of those three things,” she said.

The group consisted of about 15 women on average, many of whom had used the workshop as a forum for community and creativity to change their lives in positive ways. According to Gonzales, who also taught in the prison before the city’s cuts, the workshop opened new avenues of self-expression to the many women who were not previously artists.

“There was a transformation, an appropriation of what it means to be an artist – the language, the forms, the feelings,” said Gonzales. “Because they came from a place that follows another code – a code of the street and survival, which in many ways is similar to artistic codes. Delinquency and art go hand in hand.”

After O’Farrell and Gonzales were laid off, they realized that many women getting out of prison weren’t willing to relinquish their newfound ties to artistry.

“In the workshop, the women were working Monday to Friday from 9am to 6pm making art, so when they got out of prison, they wanted to keep going,” said O’Farrell. “And that’s when we started to get together on the outside.”

O’Farrell said that most of the women were in prison for non-violent drug-related crimes, and that they came from all over South America. Disoriented when they get out of prison, O’Farrell says it’s important for them to have a project or a group of people to turn to.

“They want to leave behind their prison experiences, but they’ve lived that reality for a long time, so now Artistas Artos is a buffer between the inside and the outside,” she said. “We’ve left behind the classroom format, and there are no more teachers and students, but artists working on an equal platform.”

Club de pelea is Artistas Artos’s most dynamic activity, covering photography, wardrobe, engraving, drawing, and painting. At the first event, Doris “El Diamante Inca”, of Artistas Artos, faced off against guest artist Diego “Matasiete” at Bar de La Tribu in Almagro. There was a ringside announcer that provoked the crowd, the crowd reflected on the movements of the artists, laughing and booing, and the artists drew their warriors with weapons and tentacles and enveloping hair.

The group plans to sell merchandising for the events, and has already printed stickers with the likeness of several of the “fighters”. Future events will take place at bars and community centres throughout the city.

In attempts to get funding for various other projects, they are trying to avoid being viewed solely as proponents of arte tumbero, or prison art, and they do collaborative projects at two studios in the city. It’s the collective element of their work, according to Gonzales, that makes it distinctive.

“Romantic visions of the artist as an individual fall away, and in this case there’s a need to create collectively,” he said. “In group projects, the visions don’t add up, they multiply, and that’s when you can create something truly explosive.”

San Telmo, the bohemian heartbeat of Buenos Aires, is full of art. It has a distinct presence, visible in the old European architecture, in the form of tango in the plazas, and at the feria every Sunday. It also lives at 736 Carlos Calvo, an old casa filled with art. It covers floors, walls, surfaces, creating a kind of “Alice in Wonderland” effect. Granted, buildings filled with art are nothing new; they’re called galleries.

But this building is different. It is the antithesis of the commercialism that inhabits galleries. Each of its rooms is a workshop and the art that inhabits them has been created by a group of ten artists called ‘El Sindicato’ (the union). It is quite an unassuming name for something so remarkable, but it is a tribute to the building’s history; it used to belong to a dock foremen’s union.

These artists do not pay rent for their workshops. They create art individually and they create art together. They use walls as canvases and rubbish as components of masterpieces. Basically, they do whatever they want; 736 Carlos Calvo is an artists’ paradise.

According to art director Pablo Rouco, the fairy tale began when a friend told him about two Swiss businessmen who purchased four houses that would remain closed for a year whilst undergoing the construction needed to connect them. Rouco’s friend knew he was interested in finding a workshop for artists, so she introduced them.

“We connected and it was perfect. [The businessmen] made a contract and gave us a year of freedom in order to paint and do whatever we want artistically, without having to pay anything,” Rouco says.

Each of the ten artists contributes to this wonderland in an individual way. Two of the artists contribute photographs of naked bodies bathed in projections of hypnotic images. There are painted icons of pop culture; Brigitte Bardot’s face claims an entire wall and James Dean appears carefree behind the wheel of his Porsche. A room filled with plastic yellow balls could probably bring out the inner child of even a dictator, and then there is all the rubbish.

Yes. Trash, garbage, basura.

El Sindicato works with two environmental NGOs, one of which teaches children how to make objects and sculptures from rubbish. It also created a tree from technological waste for ArteBA with the other organisation, Ambientate.

“The idea is to recycle,” Rouco explains, “to know that from rubbish, from nothing, a work of art can be created.”

A cooperative effort made the idea of the rubbish tree a reality. With so much creativity in one house, it is natural to wonder how often the artists work together.

“It depends,” Rouco says. “It happens very naturally. There are moments when we’re all together and the creativity explodes; they are magic moments of an artistic communion. No one has the pressure to create anything or pay anything.”

In true commune fashion, they all contribute the same amount of money for supplies and share cleaning duties. And they throw parties. They turn on music, invite people over, dance, show demonstrations of their work, or just keep painting in their workshops. It seems counterintuitive to believe that parties lead to productivity, but Rouco says this process is the most interesting and what he enjoys most. Some artists think that the finished product is most important; others think it is the process of creating. Rouco clearly adheres to the latter school of thought.

“The process of the work is what makes an artist,” he says. This belief is reflected in the way the artists do not seem preoccupied with selling their art. For money to sustain their livelihoods, they have jobs outside of the art world and also offer inexpensive courses of four to eight classes at the house. One of the instructors is a well-known drag queen who creates clothing from rubbish: dresses from plastic and wigs from straws.

But like the midnight expiration date of Cinderella’s enchanted evening, it seems that this kind of Dionysian freedom can last only briefly; at the end of one year, when the construction work starts, the property will be transformed into Casa Carlos, a boutique hotel.

What will happen to El Sindicato then?

First, most importantly, they will have a party. Some of the rooms will be destroyed, but part will remain. And in the hotel, there will be a gallery that will aptly be called El Sindicato, filled with the artists’ work.

Rouco is already looking ahead. A master of creating something from nothing, he has already found an empty warehouse in Puerto Madero that they may be able to use for five years or so.

But for now, anyone whose creativity has been piqued is welcome to go knock on the door at any time or visit www.elsindicato736.com.ar for more information.

There is no shortage of ‘bohemia’ in Buenos Aires. Or rather, you cannot escape claims of ‘bohemian vibes’ as restaurant owners, landlords or entire neighbourhoods attempt to convince you of the authenticity and quirkiness of their offerings. Such claims are commonplace and, in most cases, perhaps best ignored.

Nico Fernández Rubio is the curator of El Gato Viejo art gallery. He describes his new Thursday evening venture, ‘Noche de Emergentes’, as “diverse artists and people, gathering together to eat, drink, and enjoy live music and painting, in a bohemian setting”. On this occasion, the adjective seems apt. El Gato Viejo is one of the most interesting cultural spaces I have seen in the city.

Housed in an old train depot near Retiro, it is a challenge to find. The warehouse roof blends into the corrugated iron horizon of the station, and the space outside could be mistaken for a scrap yard. It is only upon closer inspection that the various eight foot heaps of metal can be identified as intricately designed sculptures of insects and animals, constructed from old car parts, typewriters, pipes and scrap materials.

Inside, the gallery is a shrine to utter miscellanea. The centrepiece is a small stage, bathed in a soft, blue glow, around which is clustered a selection of antique furniture, interspersed with plastic ‘7-Up’ bar tables. Ornamented with small sculptures, vintage trinkets and paper lampshades, each table is dimly lit by candles and equipped with toilet roll, serving as makeshift napkins. Luckily, any danger posed by the potentially flammable tableware could be counteracted using the sandbags which hang above the bar, alongside green orb lanterns and strings of garlic.

The evening begins at 9.30pm, when people start to filter in. The crowd is young and ruggedly arty. They seem unfazed by the inconspicuous location, tiny, unassuming doorbell or impromptu bonfire beside it. It is the first ‘Noche de Emergentes’, and Nico explains that the majority of the guests are regular visitors to the gallery, seasoned art buffs, or artists themselves, who have exhibited there in the past. Many helped with organising the event. For them, the evening is also an opportunity for more people to see – and even buy – their work.

Before the music begins, guests have a chance to explore the gallery, which is spread over three warehouses. Set to a contrasting backing track of Sinatra classics, the abstract and unconventional pieces exhibited provide entertainment in their own right. A baby pink, retro Impala car is surrounded by metal sculptures of cows and greyhounds, pieced together with nuts and bolts. In the main gallery, the work of emerging contemporary artists is showcased in monthly cycles.

However, the most prominent work is that of resident artist, Carlos Regazzoni, for whom the gallery serves as a workshop. He is the man behind the remarkable sculptures and the enormous scenes which line the walls, painted by a feral hand in an erratic palette. A sign welcomes guests to “El Gato Viejo: art gallery, museum and theatre of a bombastic and renowned character with an unlimited imagination…The world of Regazzoni.”

At 10pm, the band takes to the stage, introduced by Carlos Regazzoni himself, whose cameo appearance is fleeting but memorable. With unruly white hair and clad in multi-coloured cargo trousers and a carelessly buttoned shirt, the artist is the epitome of eccentricity. He dances briefly with a waitress, devours a pizza, shouts praise at the band, and disappears.

On the opening night, the act is ‘Sri Lanka’, a Buenos Aires four piece, who fuse acoustic and jazz with world music. Behind them is projected a flock of birds taking flight in shades of magenta, and the resulting atmosphere is calming. Closed-eyed vocal harmonies are met by immense audience appreciation. The spirals of their cigarette smoke catch the light, creating a quintessential bohemian ambience, alongside the laidback sounds.

The evening is accompanied by Nico’s very own cuisine. I find him decked out in a striped apron, dashing through the open kitchen, hands deep in pesto. Each week the house dish will be whatever he decides to cook on that particular evening. The bar offers a good selection of beers and spirits, and wine is priced around $40 a bottle. Drinks were a necessity to wash down the somewhat rock-like pizzas Nico served up at $15 each.

Nonetheless, he is quick to attest: “But the best thing is the place, right? It has a spirit and an atmosphere. It’s kind of homely; hence the toilet paper.” In the weeks to come, different acoustic and jazz bands will play, and he will set up canvases outside for guests to get creative. His philosophy? “The ‘Noche de Emergentes’ is for people to come together who have one passion in common: art. Here, they can relax, enjoy the setting and connect in a different way”. Whether or not you are an artist, and even if you remain sceptical about ‘bohemia’, you will leave ‘Noche de Emergentes’ having enjoyed a feast for all the senses, in a unique space which oozes creativity.

‘Noche de Emergentes’ is every Thursday from 9.30pm until 1am. El Gato Viejo is situated at Av. del Libertador 405, near Retiro station. Food prices will vary each week, depending on what Nico cooks. For more information on the gallery and the bands scheduled each week, contact: galeriaelgatoviejo@gmail.com

Two secret textile workshops were today shut down by the Government Control Agency (GCBA) on account of 30 serious violations of security and hygiene laws.

The GCBA were carrying out a search operation in the porteño neighbourhoods of Floresta and Villa del Parque.

In one of the closed workshops, there were children roaming free amongst exposed electrical cables and illegal gas installations, while the whole structure of the building was illegal.

The operation was supported by the Federal Police, the General Authority for the Protection of Workers and the Migrations Authority.

The latter found that six Bolivian immigrants were working illegally in the two workshops. This is just the latest incident in an escalating series of cases where immigrants and Argentine nationals have been found to be working under illegal conditions.