
ISSUE #100 - SPECIAL EDITION
The Bolivian Express celebrates its 100th issue and tenth year this month. Over 300 interns have come to Bolivia to be part of the BX experience and left, we hope, with a better understanding of Bolivia and its culture. Some, actually, never left. We wrote about, among other things, chickens (Bolivians really like chicken), ice-cream vendors, chullpas (pre-Columbian tombs) and fat-sucking vampires roaming the altiplano (yes, that’s a thing); we tried to explain local trends (there are so many vegan restaurants now!) and current events (where to begin?) as clearly as possible. There are some questions we were never able to answer, though. Is it spelled Abaroa or Avaroa? Where do taxis disappear when it rains?
This couldn’t have been possible without the participation of the many interns who wrote for the magazine and gave it life. They’ve come from the United Kingdom, the United States, Australia, Belgium, France, Ireland, Indonesia, Italy, Germany and South Africa, bringing some of their culture to Bolivia and taking back with them a taste for salteñas (because salteñas are, very objectively, the best). There was romance, a cat called Kandinsky, dog bites, roadblocks, a kitchen fire, a very long bus journey to Vallegrande, a few ghosts and an inexhaustible number of stories that never made it to the magazine’s pages but are nevertheless a part of the BX experience.
Ultimately the BX was and is a human adventure. We wanted to tell stories about Bolivia but we ended up doing something better. Over the years we built a network of interns and contributors which now spreads all across the world, hopefully bringing some attention to Bolivia and all its wonderfully weird idiosyncrasies. This project started as a group of friends with an idea and it became a family with a home in Bolivia. In these uncertain times, there are few things we can be sure of, but regardless of what the future brings, the friendships and connections that have formed inside the BX house will remain, and we hope there will be many more to come with many more new stories to share. (And maybe, one day, we will tell you what happened on that trip to Vallegrande.)
To all the people who came to Bolivia to be a part of the Bolivian Express, to the photographers and illustrators, to the people who were interviewed and featured in the magazine, to our past and present team and to all our readers: thank you.
Mario Sarabia’s Ceramics
‘El espíritu de los Andes…Bolivia’ (‘The Spirit of the Andes…Bolivia’), an abstract stone sculpture of an Andean figure, located in the Valle de la Luna, was recently vandalised during the violent political conflicts of this month. Mario Sarabia, the artist who created the sculpture, had gifted it to La Paz, his home and city of birth. He lamented the unjustified and unnecessary destruction of an artwork created on the basis of Andean beauty, cultural fusions and ideas of unity.
The internationally recognised ceramist started his artistic career in the United States and has exhibited his art in Brazil, Mexico, Argentina, England and France. Sarabia has a worldwide reputation and a well-connected international network, but at the end of the day, he prefers to reside and work in Mallasa, a quiet residential neighbourhood in the southern suburbs of La Paz. ‘Mallasa is the place where I have the privilege to live, where I’ve had the privilege to watch my children grow up, where I have the privilege of working and creating, where I’ve had the privilege of sharing my workshop with many artists and ceramics students,’ he says. Sarabia’s workshop is in his back garden. It houses a display of his most classic pieces of pottery: vases, tiles and ceramic plates. His artwork is also displayed and sold in his shop in the San Miguel neighbourhood in La Paz’s Zona Sur district.
Sarabia was enrolled in a museum-studies degree in the United States, when he was introduced to pottery on one of his courses. He says that ‘from that moment on, I decided that using clay as a form of artistic expression was what I wanted to devote the rest of my life to.’ Sarabia believes that there was no other possible profession for him, aside from maybe being ‘the lead singer in a rock band’. When asked about the inspiration behind his love for ceramics, as opposed to other art forms, he says that pottery encompasses all of the principals of the fine arts. ‘In ceramics you have to mould, paint, sketch, and sculpt,’ Sarabia explains. All of these artistic elements unite to subsequently face what Sarabia refers to as la prueba del fuego – ‘the fire test’. Pottery is an art controlled and formed amidst flames.
The aesthetics of Sarabia’s colourful and intricate artwork is complemented by the meaningful philosophies and inspirations behind the pottery. Sarabia finds beauty in his surroundings. His portfolio lives and breathes the scenic Andean geography and landscape. Quite literally, Sarabia uses a unique form of clay that originates from the valleys and altiplano that surround La Paz to create his ceramics. The Andes are also embodied in his art through his iconography, which depicts Andean animals such as llamas, alpacas, condors, guanacos and vicuñas. ‘These animals existed in this land long before the Bolivian man did,' Sarabia explains.
Image 1:
Sarabia believes that no part of Bolivian history should be ignored, and that aspects of Bolivia’s colonial past form an integral part of the nation’s identity. These ideas are reflected in his pottery, which displays the syncretism and fusion of Andean and Spanish culture in both art form and content. Image 1 illustrates the archetypal Andean landscape: llamas grazing before a mountainous backdrop. While the content may be quintessentially Andean, Sarabia explains that the ceramic piece would be described as an azulejo, a decorative tile form deriving from the Iberian Peninsula. ‘Azulejos arrived in South America during the Spanish Conquest [in the sixteenth century],’ says the artist. A more explicit Spanish reference can also be seen in Image 2, an artwork titled ‘Condor-toro’ (‘Condor-bull’). The ceramic form of a Spanish bull is built using smaller and more subtle Andean imagery and symbols: the bull’s horns are outlined by the figure of a flying condor; the bull’s face is a keru (a ceremonial Inca vase); the bull’s tail resembles a serpent, an ancient Andean deity; and the bull’s body is shaped by the Andes mountain range. Elements of Spanish and Bolivian geography and mythology are interwoven in this artwork to illustrate the idea that previously colonised nations have complex cultural identities built on fusions, appropriations and indigeneity.
Image 2:
Sarabia believes that the future of his art ‘lies in the hands of art itself. The spirit of art will guide me to where I need to be’. Yet one thing is certain, the Andean landscape has always been and always will be his favourite muse.
Name: Juan Carlos Navi Yuchina
Community: San José
Job title: Nature guide
Age: 52
Family situation: Married, with three daughters and a son
Years of experience working as a guide: Five
Languages spoken: Spanish, Quechua and a bit of English
Together with his father in the 1980s, Juan Carlos Navi Yuchina happened upon a dishevelled Israeli tourist lost in the jungle. Together, they would go on to instigate the now booming ecotourism industry in Rurrenabaque and the Bolivian Amazon. Having witnessed the rise of ecotourism from its very inception in the Bolivian jungle, Juan Carlos has developed a deep knowledge of Parque Madidi and its myriad flora and fauna. He belongs to one of four indigenous communities that live within the national park: the Comunidad San José. His extensive knowledge about plants with medicinal qualities, poisonous insects, fishing techniques, building rafts, mimicking birdsong and navigating the network of paths through the seemingly impenetrable foliage is enough to astound anyone who meets him. Having worked for a total of four tour groups, he is currently with Berraco del Madidi, which offers sustainable, high-quality tours that venture deep into the jungle, teaching visitors about survival there from the comfort of their ecolodge, which is complete with living area, kitchen, chef, shelter, tent, bathroom and shower. Creepy crawlies are an added and unavoidable bonus.
What made you decide to become a guide?
I was part of the initial process of establishing the ecotourism industry in the Madidi jungle, but when I found out that many skilled workers had decided to move on to other companies, I felt I needed to come back in order to bolster the business.
What is your favourite animal in the jungle?
The king of the forest: the jaguar. I have spotted them on no less than seven occasions in my lifetime.
How do ecotourism companies help indigenous communities?
Companies with a community focus aim to protect the environment, because, coming from indigenous communities ourselves, we are aware of the importance of the forest. The forest is a source of medicine, materials for building houses, and food. Ecotourism was created with the aim of generating sustainable work within the community. So, community-based companies help to provide education and health care to the benefit of all within the community.
What is your favourite part of the work you do?
I love being a guide. I have learnt so much and developed my understanding so that I can pass on my knowledge to guests that come and stay with us.
Which traditions are you keen to pass on to those who visit Madidi and to future generations in the Comunidad San José?
I believe that cultural traditions should be passed on to younger generations so that they do not feel lost. For example, there are certain traditions in my community that other communities do not share and vice versa, such as traditional music and dance. Other than that, we must preserve the artisanal character of the things we make and do. We also have an opportunity to share our customs with tourists who come here, and I believe it is important that visitors discover the differences that exist between our respective cultures.
Do you have a favourite memory from your youth?
I have never been lost in the jungle, but there was one incident when I was 18 years old. Given the little experience I had, I somehow lost track of time. I had been chasing animals and trying to hunt them when I suddenly realised it was too late to get back safely. I thought through my options and decided that the best thing to do would be to climb a tree and wait for dawn. Luckily, my father and great companion came looking for me, and eventually I climbed back down as I could hear him calling me. That was an unforgettable night from my youth. But those are the sorts of things you need to learn to be able to make yourself stronger and survive in the forest.
Is there anything that we have lost from living in the modern world?
There are many things I could mention. On the one hand, the technology revolution has provided many benefits, but on the other hand it has done damage to humankind. You might even say that humans have created their own poison. I remember a time when, in my community, people would grow sugar cane and make honey from it (miel de caña). Nowadays, the modern world has invented a machine to make the entire process easier. People have become used to that and no longer have the desire to work or secure their futures or even prevent illnesses. The modernisation of the world has meant that younger generations have adapted badly; they choose to achieve things quickly and easily, but that comes at a cost.
Finally, why are the forests important?
The forest is important not only to indigenous people but to everyone around the world. It serves us in many ways, from the oxygen we breathe to the water we drink. Not to mention that the forest has the potential to feed us and provide materials to live.
Photos: Rhiannon Matthias
The tattoo artist brings the age-old art form to modern La Paz
Gunnar Quisper, a potosino keen on changing ideas around tattoos, says that ‘tattooing is above all an ancient and timeless art form. Most tattoo artists are professionals with an arts background.’ Quisper studied art in school, but it wasn’t until he moved to Amsterdam that he developed an interest in body art. But he doesn’t always display his own tattoos, as in Bolivia they are often associated with prisoners, gang members and a variety of negative personality traits. So he covers up his body art a majority of the time.
Tattoos are part of some indigenous cultures in the Chaco region of South America, a vast, hot and humid tract of land that straddles the area where Bolivia, Paraguay and Argentina meet. Indigenous men can be seen sporting faded number tattoos commemorating their time in the national service. ‘Back in the day, it was really tough, and surviving was a miracle in itself, for this reason, they tattooed the number of their regiment on their body,’ Quisper says. His Gunn Art Ink tattoo shop, on Avenida Illampu in a slightly rundown part of La Paz, is a sleek, eclectic space with an amazing view of Illimani and La Casa del Pueblo. ‘I chose this location because I love the idea of attracting different kinds of people to an area like this,’ he says. The shop’s red walls are decorated with diablada masks, some of Quisper’s paintings, and awards and souvenirs from the various conventions he has attended and hosted. He’s proud to represent Bolivia wherever he goes, and he’s hosted conventions in which guests included internationally acclaimed artists.
Quisper specialises in realistic tattoos, a style which aims to replicate the proportionality and detail of photos. ‘Tattoos cure ailments of the soul,’ he says. ‘They can help someone to translate what they feel on the inside to their outside. Generally, I tattoo people with a past that they want to leave behind, they want the weight to be lifted off their shoulders.’ His clients entrust him with their bodies and their stories, making the average tattoo session a modified therapy session.