Magazine # 46
RELEASE DATE: 2014-12-01
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EDITORIAL BY ALEXANDRA MELEáN ANZOLEAGA
Canon or Nikon? Flashback to 1990. Witness the rise of the digital SLR. The mainstream recording medium and consequently, the photographic process, transforms. Analog photographers trade photographic chemicals for memory cards, negative records for hard drives and the darkroom for Adobe Photoshop. Enter the digital age. Photography is now as easy as 1-2-3; watch a YouTube tutorial, make a Flickr account, and design a flashy watermark. Social media and photo-sharing networks, Facebook and Instagram, make it possible for everybody with a cell phone camera to become a photographer. Android, or iPhone? ... Stop. ISO, shutter speed, and F/STOP. REWIND. “Shoot in manual,” says Michael Dunn, Bolivian Express Head of Photography. From the Sin Motivo Photography studio in downtown Sopocachi, you borrow Sara Juana, a Canon Rebel XTI, named after a pistol- carrying, cartoon horse, emphasizing her shooting capacity. Through a lens, you observe photogenic La Paz, curiously looking for the decisive moment coined by Henri Cartier-Bresson, father of photojournalism. You walk from Avenida 20 de Octubre to Calle Jaen, climbing a cobblestone street at a 45 degree angle. Breathlessly, you admire el Illimani. Hooked, you buy your first DSLR from Calle Eloy Salmón, an electronic goods street market: the paceño amazon.com. When the lens cracks, you are gifted a vintage 1960's Asahi Pentax Spotmatic from the camera repairman on Av. 20 de Octubre. After a few hours in the darkroom, you develop two black and white Kodak TRI-X 400 films and make contact sheets. You frown at an overexposed print left in the developer too longer and mutter, “this is part of the process,” before you do it again. In this issue, the Bolivian Express looks beyond the tacky watermarks to discover Bolivian professional photographer Juan Estellano developing film and making prints in L’obscurita from the perspective of Bolivian journalist Alex Ayala. Bolivian Express photojournalist intern Vicky Roberts explores the contrast between diverse Bolivian landscapes in her first photo essay. Bolivian journalist Adriana Murillo investigates the history of photography in Bolivia, from analog to digital, finding the value of photographic archives. Bolivian professional photographer Alejandro Loayza critically examines the sustainability of Bolivian city landscapes during an age of visual contamination. Bolivian professional filmmaking-photography collective, Sin Motivo, shares how a collaborative space for creative audiovisual artists and photographers was formed. Bolivian Express photojournalist intern Sophia Vahdati interviews professional Bolivian photographer Alvaro Gumucio Li, aka ‘Gumo’. Photojournalist Johnathon Mccarthy documents the rural, artisan weaving women of Huarancani. Featured photo essays include the work of professional Bolivian photographers Michael Dunn and Carlos Sanchez Navas. Inevitably, any photo issue will invariably only be able to cover a limited selection of what it means to be a photographer in Bolivia. So of course, this will have to be the first of several future editions exploring this neverending world of pixels, celluloid, silver nitrate, shutters and broken lenses.
SIN MOTIVO
December 24/2014| articles


Photo: Juan Manuel Lobaton , courtesy of SINMOTIVO PHOTOGRAPHERS www.sonmotivo.com

Like most good stories, this project began on a night out. Initially, the objective was to share one photographer's perspective with another. The first step towards becoming a collective was the debut of the SinMotivo photography exhibition, showcasing a chorrellana of photographs reflecting diverse things about daily life.

Following the exhibition, SinMotivo published SinMotivo Vol.1, a free print magazine promoting the work of the collective. Five more editions followed, each with a different theme. Recruiting new members, SinMotivo transformed into a creative place to view, showcase and discuss photography. The collective began to organize and participate in various audio-visual showcases, festivals, curadurias and workshops. In addition, the collective published two photobooks; Ensayos Fotográficos (2011) and La Ciudad y la Mirada (2012). In 2010, SinMotivo also began producing Revista Diafragma a Bolivian photography magazine, in order to promote and support the craft of photography worldwide. All of these accomplishments led the collective to be featured in the first Bolivian photography book ever, Fotografiía Boliviana, edited by Accion Cultural, last year. Outside Bolivia, SinMotivo has been invited to participate in multiple exhibits, from Belgium and France to Australia, Mexico and Canada.

Currently, the SinMotivo photography studio is based in the Sopocachi neighborhood of La Paz. This space is more than an office. It’s a place that allows the collective to plan projects and host audio-visual activities, like lectures, presentations, workshops and exhibitions, as well as focus on commercial projects, ranging from documentaries to advertisements. Many ask: Why sin motivo? The phrase is a paceño idiom meaning ‘no reason’. It is also an oxymoron meaning ‘without light’: a play on words, similar to the well-known phrase sin querer queriendo, coined by the late, beloved comedian Roberto Gomez Bolaños: Chespirito.

SinMotivo is a group of photographers and filmmakers with different viewpoints and perspectives, mutually benefiting one another. By sharing a studio, the members share or absorb ideas and can receive or give constructive criticism. Although SinMotivo may have been envisioned from one perspective, the result is and will always be collective.

SAXOMAN Y LOS CASANOVAS
December 24/2014| articles

‘You know that Américo came? He's friends with Superman, Wonder Woman, the Fantastic Four and Iron Man . . . . Saxoman and the Casanovas, that’s my boy, brother.’

Forty-three-year old Américo Estevez Román, better known as ‘Saxoman’, is a beaming character from La Paz, Bolivia, who dedicates his life exclusively to music and taking care of his family.

Américo is the nephew of Fernando Román Saavedra, the songwriter who created the famous song ‘Collita’ in the 1950s—whom Américo remembers clearly from his youth, and who he says inspired him to follow the path of musical creativity. Nowadays, Américo keeps his name alive on the musical scene with an adopted style and at the location where he gets by: on the street. He says that he started playing there out of necessity, and on it has made a lot of connections.

Américo’s children, who call themselves the Casanovas, go to regular school in the morning; in the afternoon, driven by Américo or his wife, Nelly, they go to the Conservatorio Nacional de Música. Américo is convinced that they will be great musicians in the future, and he tries to provide them with all the moral and economic support that he lacked during his upbringing.

This photo essay shows the daily routine of Saxoman’s family, which has stayed together while Saxoman has plied his craft throughout the years, playing on the street and at private parties. Saxoman can be found on facebook by searching “Saxoman y los Casanovas”.


Photo: Carlos Sanchez Navas

Saxoman Playing his favourite instrument in the patio of his house, in wich he has lived since childhood

HUANCARANI
December 24/2014| articles

The women from Huancarani have to traverse four hours of mountain to get to Independencia, the nearest town, where you still can't get hold of a refrigerated soft drink. They don't have a Facebook account, they don't use the internet and they're probably better for it. Between two major urban centers, La Paz and Cochabamba, and nestled in the Cordillera de Cocapata, the people of Huancarani cling to a rural existence that is strongly linked to subsistance agriculture, sheep herding, and what they do best: weaving. The age old techniques are richly based in natural dyes, highly complicated patterns, and hours and hours of hard work. By the time they deliver a finished chuspa, a small bag traditionally used to carry coca leaves that stave off hunger for a knock-down drag-out hike or an overtime shift at the mines, the female weavers have spent around 35 hours coordinating the effort. Time stands still and shucking the fur, or hiking down to the river to wash the wool seems like the perfect way to spend the day.

Every city in Bolivia is comprised of migrants, whether from the altiplano or the oriente, and their reality is not that far removed from that of the women of Huancarani; they maintain the traditions that continue to make Bolivia one of the most unique countries on the planet.

Learn more about the women photographed above and how to support their artisan weavings at www.pazaboliviablog.com.

Photo: Jonathan Mcacrthy