Indigenous Cosmologies
In the Amazon rainforest, the patterns found in nature are the basis of sacred geometries that indigenous people paint onto their skin and ceramics, or weave and embroider as textiles or bead-work. They call these patterns ‘kené (sacred designs) and some say that these geometries once connected the universe in a continuous tissue - a primordial reality in which the planes of existence (material, immaterial, visible, invisible) were once unified and whole.
The Yawanawá people
The Yawanawá people are settled in villages along the banks of River Gregorio, in the Brazilian rainforest - guardians of 200,000 hectares of biodiverse virgin rainforest. They survived violent contact with western society and after nearly a century of domination they have reclaimed their land and freedom, their ancestral culture and spirituality. They live in harmony with the natural cycles of nature, nourishing a profound connection with the healing plants of the Amazon.
In collaboration with Delfina Muñoz de Toro we’ve been working with artists from the Yawanawá family to develop a new artwork for The Botanical Mind based on their kené and music. Their designs and music are central to their cosmology - their aesthetic vision involving plants, animals, and beings from the spirit world.
The Covid-19 pandemic poses a particular threat to indigenous communities who are vulnerable to infections and diseases from outside their territories. During the European colonisation of the Amazon, many ethnic groups were decimated by diseases that they had no immunity to. The Yawanawá, like many other indigenous communities, are now in self-isolation in their sacred village.
Priscilla Telmon & Vincent Moon
In 2014, independent filmmakers and sound-explorers Priscilla Telmon & Vincent Moon spent time with the Yawanawá family, recording and filming their daily life in the rainforest. This footage is part of an archive of the diverse spiritual traditions in Brazil and their interwoven roots - Híbridos [Hybrids] - amassed over a four year period.
Their films are all available on their open-source, creative commons, platform and span the traditional ceremonies and plant-based healing techniques of indigenous peoples of the Amazon, as well as the syncretic lines of Umbanda – an Afro-Brazilian religion – and Santo Daime, which incorporates folk Catholicism, African Animism, and indigenous shamanism from South America, in particular the use of a sacred plant medicine known as Ayahuasca. Telmon and Moon’s ethnographic experimental films and music recordings explore transcendent states with image and sound - filming sacred music, religious and shamanic rituals and drawing from the wisdom traditions and teachings they receive from spiritual elders and shamans around the world. They are compelled by a shared knowledge that everything, visible and invisible, is vibrating energy, the foundation of ancient science and healing through music.
Delfina Muñoz de Toro
Delfina Muñoz de Toro is an indigenist, visual artist and musician from Argentina. Using voice and charango, her acoustic performances embrace songs from the indigenous peoples of Abya Yala (South America), as well as her own compositions. She is guided by her spiritual studies in the Amazon Rainforest, with sound and vision deeply engrained in a harmonious and integrated connection to nature.
Nii Txana (Singers of the Forest) - is inspired by the plants and animals from the jungle and is about the birth of song - it tells a story of birds bringing melody to the world. The song is a ‘live prayer’ – a sacred chant usually performed in ceremonies. The musical melody is a way of connecting with a primal essence from the natural world. The recording was made in her home on an island in Argentina where she lives surrounded by birds and other animals. Wiwi is also known as The Sacred Song of the Wind, a song sung by women from the Mapuche indigenous nation that live in Argentina and Chile. It evokes the essence of the wind and connects with the four directions.
La Madre, 2020
“One of the gifts received in this moment of silence in this enchanted forest is this song. When the world entered this crisis I found myself going back to an eternal and ancestral place... Mother Earth. Always coming back to the arms of the great mother... whenever there is confusion or darkness, going back to this sacred nature and all the answers come, bringing light. Walking through life as a traveller... already a decade of seeking through the four corners of the world and always coming back to the same place: to finding the whole universe in the flight of a bird, the sound of a cricket, the flow of a river. In that nature I feel complete, and this song speaks of the many faces and identities a woman can have, and of so many women from different cultures I have met. Because the energy of the of the mother can take many shapes, but its essence is one.”
Delfina Muñoz de Toro
The Shipibo-Conibo people
Indigenous Amazonian people have a wealth of knowledge about their plant allies gained not through scientific experiment but in communion with music and the senses. They make allegiances with plants they consider to be sacred ancestors, emissaries of spiritual wisdom, plants that guide them and reveal their healing properties and preparations as musical transmissions - icaros or healing songs. In the Shipibo-Conibo lineage, an ethnic group indigenous to the Amazonian lowlands of Peru, these songs can have both visual and aural form, distinctive vocal and percussive music that is whispered, whistled and sung to stimulate contact with a subtle dimension that’s interlaced with intricate abstract geometries. For these communities, both music and visual abstraction are central to their deeply entwined relationship with the rainforest.
Ethnomusicologist Bernd Brabec De Mori has been working for almost 20 years with indigenous people in the Western Amazon.
In this essay he discusses theThe Magic of Song, The Invention of Tradition and The Structuring of Time Among The Shipibo.
The Huni Kuin (Kaxinawa) people
For the Huni Kuin people from the Amazon rainforest in Brazil, their designs are passed through ancestral lines signifying indigenous identity and spirituality. They sing music while they weave them into textiles - specific songs that are related to the designs they are making. They learn to weave from an early age and have a sense of transformation through the process which for them, is intimately related to The Great Spirit.
In the Twentieth Century many European artists and thinkers were inspired by indigenous cultures in the Americas, including Yves Laloy and Wolfgang Paalen. Josef and Anni Albers spent periods of time in Mexico and Peru where their work was influenced by pre-Colombian aesthetics, the ancient stone carvings at Mitla, and the traditional textiles of Andean weavers.
Brenda Danilowitz
Transformed: Josef and Anni Albers in Ancient America
As a student in the weaving workshop at the Bauhaus in Germany in the 1920s, Anni Albers soon came to realize that she had stumbled onto the very crux of creation: that weaving was an art that linked her to a distant past. Among the ancients, she admired most the pre-Hispanic weavers of Peru. The beauty and inventiveness of their works transcended any functional purpose.
Anni and Josef Albers, on their first visit to Mexico in 1935 after immigrating to the United States a year earlier, found heady visual and intellectual inspiration in Mexican art and architecture. Established categories and hierarchies crossed over and melted into one another. Distinctions between past and present, old and new, centre and periphery, high and low art, abstraction and realism (and surrealism), were subsumed in a free flow of creativity and invention. At the time, Mexico was experiencing renewed enthusiasm for archaeological investigation after several years of political turmoil. Exploring the excavations that were then spreading throughout the countryside, Anni Albers felt that she was stepping back in time. Soon she and Josef were traveling widely, collecting tiny clay figurines and fragments offered by the locals. “We ventured into regions not yet then included in the regular tourist itinerary…We could not believe that here in our hands were century-old pre-Columbian pieces…”, she wrote. “Yes, here was a country whose earth still yielded such art.”
Diego Rivera, at the time amassing a vast collection of such objects, was a role model. Anni and Josef visited Rivera in his cubic flat-roofed house in San Angel. The house inspired by the architecture of Le Corbusier, Rivera’s pre-Columbian collection, and his renowned and striking social realist murals
widely accessible in many of Mexico City’s public buildings, epitomised the eclecticism of Mexican modernism. It was a mix often completed by a Baroque backdrop in the form of an ornate colonial-era church.
Anni Albers realized that the murals amounted to more than a mere question of style. She immediately understood that Diego Rivera’s 1923 mural cycle in the Secretaría de Educación Publica, which heroized indigenous life and set a romanticized dignity of agrarian labour and peasant society against the grasping vulgarity of metropolitan elites, drew on Aztec myth and history. The paintings were part of a broad and politically complicated drive to cement Mexican nationhood by elevating indigenous art and culture and advancing the idea that contemporary Mexico was part of a historical continuum.
Josef Albers basked in the creative collision of worlds in Mexico. The atmosphere freed him from the stifling formality of the western tradition. He wrote that Monte Albán, the sacred ancient site on the outskirts of Oaxaca was “more perfect and beautiful than the Parthenon itself.” In 1936 he made three paintings, Archeologic I, Archeologic II and Temple all now lost and known only from black and white photographs of the time. Their concentric compositions suggest Mexico’s ancient sites and are quite unlike any of his previous works. Shedding the formality of their roles as teachers and community leaders, in Mexico Josef and Anni Albers could indulge their sensuous natures as explorers, collectors, and above all as artists. The effect on their work was steadily transformative. Josef turned both to the ubiquitous strong colours of vernacular art and to architecture and the radical geometries of the ancient archaeological sites for inspiration.
The Alberses’ own collection of pre-Columbian figures—which they invested with a quasi-religious significance and described as idolos—began quite casually in 1935. Anni Albers in her introduction to their publication in 1970, displayed the breadth of her understanding of these objects. Sensitive to the web of scientific, political, aesthetic, and commercial interests surrounding collecting, Albers wrote that, as collectors, she and Josef were “amateurs in the true sense of the word and mainly visually oriented.” As true modernists who believed unwaveringly that works of art spoke a universally understood and shared language, Josef and Anni Albers valued their collection as traces of creative invention that validated their own creative lives. Besides collecting hundreds of figures and objects, Josef photographed similar artefacts in museums just as intensely as he photographed the sites from which they had been retrieved. Anni treasured her remarkable collection of pre-Hispanic textiles, both as examples to teach her students and as objects of wonder. In the Alberses’ home these collections were never on display. Stored in closets and drawers they were ever-present private reminders, talismans perhaps, of true creativity.
In 1941 Josef began a series of pen and ink drawings, whose crisp modulated lines evoked his observations of Mexico’s ancient temple sites. Although he described these works, which were later translated into zinc-plate lithographs, as Graphic Tectonics, he also gave them evocative titles like Sanctuary, Shrine, and, in reference to his most admired archaeological site, To Monte Alban. The sharp lines and angles of the ancient structures uncovered on those sites led his printmaking in other new directions. The woodcut Tlaloc (1944), named for the Mexican rain god, deploys a single line that moves back over itself and reads both as the eponymous abstracted personage and as the overlapping planes of a simplified architecture.
The grid of warp and weft itself provided the matrix for Anni Albers ‘s singular interpretations of the linear geometries of pre-Hispanic architecture. “It’s strange that of all things, sculpture and pottery give me ideas for weaving. Especially clay as material”, she wrote. Her large-scale wall-hanging, Monte Albán, retained the underlying strict geometry of the grid, the muted colour, and the scale, that characterized her wall hangings from the Bauhaus. Overlaying that geometry, however, was a new wandering line that traced, in a floating weft, the outline of the Zapotec architectures of the eponymous site. It was as if Anni Albers, under the liberating power of this Mexican inspiration had united two aspects of Bauhaus orthodoxy: the tyrannical grid and Paul Klee’s advice to his students to “take a line for a walk.”
Anni Albers made her first small-scale work of the sort that she would call “pictorial weavings,” in 1947, using the term “pictorial” to ascribe to textiles the same status as traditional easel paintings—objects of pure aesthetic meaning and intent. Unhampered by considerations of use, she could create with greater freedom. South of the Border (1958), only ten centimetres high and one of the smallest pieces in her compact body of modestly sized weavings, confirms her belief that, as she recognized in the pre-Hispanic “small great objects” she and Josef collected, quality did not depend on size and “the monumental can be imbedded in the minute.”
Her deep interest in the subject led Anni Albers to study pre-Columbian Art at Yale University where Josef took up an appointment as Chair of the Department of Design in 1950. As her research paper for George Kubler’s class she took up the problem of reconstructing the techniques Andean weavers invented to create the extraordinarily wide fabrics of the Early Nazca period. She was both satisfying her own intellectual curiosity and extending scholarship in the area, and she engaged textile expert, Junius Bird of New York’s Museum of Natural History, in a debate on the topic. “I realize,”
she wrote to Bird, “that my speculations may seem far-fetched to non-weavers though to me as a weaver concerned with questions of structure it was natural to take up the problem of wide fabrics from another point of view than considered before.” Her research was published as the essay “A Structural Process in Weaving” along with many of her other writings, in her first book, On Designing (1959).
Josef Albers’s paintings from the 1930s and 1940s appear at first so varied that it would be impossible to predict from them that Albers would by the 1950s become the creator of an endless series of paintings that employed a single compositional scheme—the square. Yet even in these earlier works, as is best seen in his Tenayuca group of studies and paintings (1938 – 1943), Albers, having found a format that intrigued him sufficiently, would revisit it over a period of time and execute infinite variations without becoming dull or boring or formulaic. In 1940, in works like To Mitla—yet another work named after a site that Albers photographed repeatedly—line is eliminated in favour of pure colour. To Mitla re-forms the deep red painted fortress-like walls surrounding the Palace of the Columns in the village of Mitla in layers contained by the intense green of the fields and the blue of the sky. In other works, like Mantic (1943) and Construction in Red, Blue and Black (1939), solid planes of colour suggest surfaces, openings and hidden spaces within the architectures of both ancient and modern Mexico. Albers was moving, though not in a straight line, towards the series of paintings he would begin in late 1946.
Named Variants or Adobes they were prefigured by the small but significant painting To Oaxaca (1943) in which diagonals disappear and a solid frontal architectonic plane, penetrated by a door-like block of colour, strikes a new and authoritative note.
After 1967 Anni Albers turned to making graphics and screen prints in which her Mexican and Latin American experiences resonate. In several series and in a range of printed mediums, she endlessly manipulated arrangements of colour and design based largely on the meander or the triangle motif. By this time the arts of Mexico and Peru (which they visited in 1953) had become a part of her: internalized and memorialized in her work just as the traces of pre-Hispanic architecture were implicit in the nested squares of Josef’s Homage to the Square paintings.
The treasured pre-Columbian miniatures they had collected together would continue to delight Anni and Josef Albers to the end of their long lives. These artefacts, as Anni Albers later wrote, would “bring back recollections of places and incidents” and sustain their belief in the paths they had chosen for their lives and their art.
Brenda Danilowitz is an art historian and chief curator at the Josef and Anni Albers Foundation. She is the author and editor of numerous books and essays on the work of Josef and Anni Albers and has organized exhibitions of their work in the US, Europe, Mexico, and Latin America.
[1] Anni Albers. Preface to Pre-Columbian Mexican Miniatures. (New York London, 1970).
[1] The date of Monte Alban remains uncertain. During her lifetime she variously documented its date as “1936” or “1945”.
[1] Letter to Junius Bird, April 12, 1952. Copy in the archives of the Josef and Anni Albers Foundation, Box 6, Folder 38.
Indigenous populations in the Amazon Rainforest are custodians of precious, biodiverse ecosystems and of intimate knowledge of the plants and animals they co-exist with. Right now, they are at particular threat from the Covid-19 pandemic. During colonial occupations many people in the Amazon region died after contracting infectious diseases brought into their territories from outside. Today, the COVID-19 virus has already reached indigenous communities and as many are extremely isolated, they are without access to healthcare, protective equipment or public services. The lock-down measures of their national governments are also limiting the income streams from tourism that they rely on for their livelihoods.
Please visit: COVID19 Emergency: Support Amazon Communities Now and Amazon Emergency Fund for information about how to support indigenous communities at this time.
Camden Art Centre is pleased to provide links to the following campaigns in support of indigenous communities in the Amazon Rainforest directly affected by the current Covid-19 pandemic. Please note that these campaigns are operated by independent fundraisers and are not connected to Camden Art Centre.
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