Nov

A Cultural Encounter with Violence: Sicarios

by Meredith Mullins on November 29, 2012

Cultural Encounter with Violence in Guatemala: Bullet holes in car window

International Fine Art Photography Winner
Unmasks Violence in Guatemala

The photograph that just won the Grand Prize in the 2012 International Fine Art Photography Competition is powerful, lyrical, rich in tones, and graceful in line.

As you look closer, a story begins to unfold. When fully understood, the image sends a spine-chilling message about the pervasiveness of violence in the world today and how easily it has come to be accepted as a part of daily life in certain cultures.

In so many countries, guns and killing are woven into the cultural fabric. Poverty, abundance of weapons, a legacy of violence, corrupt or dysfunctional law enforcement, war, revolution, drugs, gangs, and a reverence for the power of violence all contribute.

The Culture of Guatemalan Hit Men

Spanish photographer Javier Arcenillas titles his award-winning work “Red Note” after the police report issued daily in Guatemala that lists the violent crimes that have occurred. Arcenillas follows the trail of these alerts in Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, and Mexico—to tell the story of this growing violence.

The image is a part of his series called Sicarios—an even more chilling story of a culture of “hit men” or hired killers in Latin America.

The job of a sicario is one of the most popular and respected professions in these countries. Young people are seduced by the easy money and the instant respect. Sicarios are strong . . . and feared.

“When they hold their first gun, their childhood disappears, and their games become adult games. Their playground is the street, ” Arcenillas says. “But they rarely make it past 25 years old.”

The sicarios are usually from the poorer strata of society. Young killers train by shooting pets and learning to eliminate any feeling of guilt. They graduate by killing the homeless. Then, they’re ready to be full-fledged assassins.

The Real Story in Images

“These problems of violence cannot be solved with a camera,” Arcenillas says. “I can’t save the world with photographs. But I can aspire to heal it. My role is to tell a story in images . . . a real story. The truth.”

Cultural Encounter with Violence in Guatemala: a sicario or hired hit man

Sicarios
© Javier Arcenillas

Too often, a culture accepts and glorifies violence (films, TV, video games, street-level struggles for power, or legal pleas of “self-defense” and “standing one’s ground”). The stage has been set. But the real-life dramas that play out every day are reaching catastrophic proportions in many countries.

Arcenillas’s photographs are troubling, moving, and deserving of our full attention. As he says:

“Let the sentence of the day be, ‘For once in my life, I need to listen.’ Indifference is the world’s evil.”

His photos reveal a haunting Oh, I see moment, as we come face-to-face with everyday violence. The images, hopefully, serve as a call to action.

How do we keep eight-year olds from wanting to be corner-boy drug runners or sicarios?

How do we keep kids from wanting to do just what their older brothers are doing?

How do we make sure a country such as Guatemala prosecutes more than 5% of its violent crime cases . . . or even just reports the crimes that are committed?

How do we implant a conscience in a culture . . . a conscience that makes it wrong to kill someone or to remain silent when someone is killed?

These are life-threatening, life-changing questions that need answers. Soon.

Learn more about Guatemala.

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Meredith Mullins 4 Comments

Cultural Encounters/Guatemala/The World's Photography

Nov

A Cultural Encounter with Mexico’s Calacas

by Janine Boylan on November 26, 2012

Oaxacan artist Carlomagno Pedro Martinez, whose calacas (skeleton sculptures) provide a cultural encounter

Sculptor Carlomagno Pedro Martinez adding texture to a skeleton’s shawl
© Janine Boylan

Symbols Abound in Skeleton Sculptures of Oaxacan Artist

Sculptor Carlomagno Pedro Martinez leans over the wooden table and meticulously adds texture to the wailing skeleton’s shawl. Loose bones, skulls, and other skeletons are scattered on the table around him.

At a cultural exhibit of Oaxacan artists in the Bowers Museum (Santa Ana, California), Martinez, the featured sculptor, is working with the unique black clay he brought from his hometown near Coyotepec in Mexico.

Once Martinez’s figures dry, he polishes details with a quartz stone and then, using a centuries-old technique, kiln-fires his creations to obsidian black with gleaming metallic-like designs.

Martinez began working with clay when he was just four years old. His artistic parents taught his siblings and him the craft. Over time he developed his own style, inspired by traditional Mexican symbols and legends.

This was not my first cultural encounter with calacas, Mexican symbols of the dead. I knew that in Mexico, death is not negative or frightening. Figures like these typically are meant to be a joyous way to honor ancestors.

Observing the Sculptures

Martinez’s sculptures appear to be simple representations of everyday life.

One of Martinez’s pieces shows five animated skeletons on a bench. They are enamored with a frolicking dog and his bones. Martinez had carefully textured each shawl, curved each hand into a meaningful pose, and added precise expressions to each face.

Five abuelas, dog, and bone sculpture, providing a cultural encounter with Mexico's calacas (skeleton sculptures) by Oaxacan artist

Five figures, dog, and bone sculpture by Carlomagno Pedro Martinez
© Janine Boylan

In another sculpture, a skeleton lies on its stomach (or, more precisely, rib cage), joyfully studying a book. A wise owl perches at the skeleton’s eye level. They appear to be engaged in an intent discussion about what they’re reading.

Skeleton and owl sculpture, providing a cultural encounter with Mexico's calacas (skeleton sculptures) by Oaxacan artist

Skeleton and owl sculpture by Carlomagno Pedro Martinez
© Janine Boylan

Nearby is a parade: a bone, a skull, a dog, and a cross-legged skeleton. A large mask necklace hangs around the skeleton’s neck. The dog is joyfully wagging its tail.

Skeleton and dog sculpture, providing a cultural encounter with Mexico's calacas (skeleton sculptures) by Oaxacan artist

Bone, skull, dog, and skeleton sculpture by Carlomagno Pedro Martinez
© Janine Boylan

An ornate turkey hovers on a shelf over the skeletons. It seems a bit out of place, but this time of year, turkeys are still in season, right?

Turkey sculpture, providing a cultural encounter with Mexico's calacas (skeleton sculptures) by Oaxacan artist

Turkey sculpture by Carlomagno Pedro Martinez
© Janine Boylan

Digging Deeper into Mexican Symbols

Being curious, I asked Martinez about the turkey.

When a turkey fluffs its feathers, he explained, it is a symbol of day turning to night.

Oh! It had nothing to do with Thanksgiving. This Oh, I see moment prompted me to ask more questions: What about the owl?

There is a traditional Mexican saying, Cuando el tecolote canta, el indio muere (When the owl cries, the Indian dies.). The owl is a symbol of death, not wisdom.

And the five figures? The dog?

Martinez explained that each figure is an abuela (grandmother) and represents 100 years of Mexican history. The dog represents the political party, and the bone represents the policies and politics. It wasn’t a park scene, but a symbol of history and politics.

The mask necklace around the neck of the cross-legged skeleton?

That is life, hanging around the neck of an ancestor.

More Than Meets the Eye

Oh, I see! What I had brought to each of his sculptures was an appreciation of his talent in crafting them and a message based only on the surface of the cultural encounter. But when he explained the deeper symbolism of each one, I had a completely different response. Each piece was a novel of symbols that deserved a more careful read.

It was a clear reminder to me of how important it is to dig deeper and gain a wider understanding. Something that appears clear and simple may have a complex message. That’s a lesson I can apply daily!

As I was leaving, I passed by the table from a different direction.

Turns out there was even more to that turkey than I first saw. Another reminder to look at something from many angles!

Back of turkey sculpture, providing a cultural encounter with Mexico's calacas (skeleton sculptures) by Oaxacan artist

Back of turkey sculpture by Carlomagno Pedro Martinez
© Janine Boylan

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Janine Boylan Comments

Cultural Heritage & Traditions/Cultural Symbols/Mexico/The World's Art & Design

Nov

Cultural Traditions: Thanksgiving in Paris

by Meredith Mullins on November 22, 2012

Turkey in Butcher Shop for Thanksgiving Cultural Tradition

Crossing Cultures at the Dinner Table

The simple truth: we should vow never to grow tired of giving thanks or saying thank you. Thanksgiving should be a verb, a word of action. And certainly more than once a year, we should remind ourselves of all the good things in life. Family and friends. New adventures. Discoveries. Meaningful moments. Freedom. Saying Oh, I see with awe or with compassion.

The OIC blog has provided a world tour in the past week, from the Senegal sheep festival to heart-felt memories of American family life. At the risk of Thanksgiving overkill (and because today is the day), I share the American-in-Paris view of this cultural tradition.

Paris Store with Goods for Cultural Traditions of Thanksgiving

Searching for Everything American

My first November in Paris, many years ago, sent me straight to the store in the Marais named Thanksgiving. (It is at this point in the story that I freely admit that I am not a cook.)

I was nostalgic for American things, and this was the place to browse (and to be thankful that you could find crunchy peanut butter in Paris).

The tiny shop, reminiscent of a 1950s general store in the heartland of America, is crowded with products that the owner thinks Americans might miss most— from Fruit Loops to Saltines to Pepperidge Farm stuffing to a shelf full of jello to fresh cranberries.

For Thanksgiving, of course, they have it all. I ordered my pre-cooked, fat, white-meat laden American turkey and stocked up on stuffing.

Cultural traditions illustrated by Thanksgiving store window display in Paris

I bought cranberries, sweet potatoes, beans, french-fried onion rings and Campbell’s soup (to make that bean casserole that Mom used to make).

About 500 euros later, I left the store and wondered what exactly had just happened.

Finding French Options

As the years passed, many different approaches emerged (all of which cost much less than 500 euros).

You can have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner out (at some of the favorite expat places with names like “Breakfast in America,” “Joe Allen’s” or “Blues Bar-B-Q.”

You can go to the local American churches.

You can create your own French version of Thanksgiving (with oysters and organ meats . . . yum).

Or you can visit your friendly local butchers (mine are Wilfried and Jean-Paul) to order an American style turkey (lots of white meat) or the leaner and gamier French turkey (dinde fermière), with feathers and all. (Some say once you’ve tried the French turkey, you can never go back, although there may be a bit of sticker shock.)

Paris Butcher with Turkey for Thanksgiving Cultural Traditions

Blending French and American Traditions

Now, after eight years of living in France, I still order my pre-cooked turkey (my oven is too small to cook it myself . . . at least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it).

But I invite friends—all of whom are good cooks—to bring a dish. Then, we put into practice the idea of crossing cultures at the dinner table.

The French Influence: We look each other in the eye and toast with champagne, and we have a cheese course before those pumpkin and pecan pies.

The American Influence: We start a few hours before a normal French dinner (at most French parties, you’re lucky if you start to eat by 10 pm), and we warn the French guests that at Thanksgiving we eat everything at once on a huge plate stacked with food. The French guests should also be warned not to spread the cranberry sauce on everything just because it is called a sauce . . . (although they may have something there).

Somewhere over dinner, I savor my Oh, I see moment: Lean turkey or butterball, dining at 6 pm or 10 pm, the idea remains consistent—We are here to give thanks and say thank you for all that we have.

Happy Thanksgiving!

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Meredith Mullins Comments

Crossing Cultures/Cultural Heritage & Traditions/France (Paris)

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A Cultural Encounter with Violence: Sicarios