As we explore Bolivia, we use words and labels to understand the people and landscapes we encounter. We use them as tools to quickly communicate ideas and experiences with people around us. Similarly, companies and organizations manufacture logos to visually represent what they are about; they use images, colors and symbols to transmit their brand essence in the blink of an eye. Even the food we buy increasingly comes with labels which summarize their contents, sources, nutritional benefits and prices. These representations speak to us, and provide instant information we use to make assumptions about who and what we are engaged with.
Social theorist Stuart Hall has written extensively on the idea of representation, which he defines in the simplest terms as ‘using language to say something meaningful about, or to represent, the world meaningfully, to other people.’ He also points out that when we identify people or things through language, we are exercising power.
In this process, culture is key. Labels do not stand alone. They are loaded with meanings defined as much by the intentions of those who create them, as by those who interpret them. And this is what makes them powerful.
In this issue of Bolivian Express, we take a look at the idea of ‘Labels’, and how they shape our understanding of how we see the world. We wrote about some of the labels we frequently see and hear about in Bolivia, and try to dig under the simplest definitions to gain a broader understanding of what they mean. We share stories behind the labels we see every day: who is identified by what labels? Who creates them, why and how? Our writers, acted on the belief that by not accepting labels at face value, we can gain a deeper and closer understanding of people and the forces that drive everyday life.
We wrote about some of the ways in which we label people to make a quick reference point – by calling someone a an orphan, an elderly person, a mother. We looked at stereotypes of being from the country and the city, and of being a gringo. And we dug below the labels that come at us every day, from corporate logos and food packaging to the destinations displayed on La Paz’s minibuses. These labels are all around us and in Bolivia, we found, they can have some very interesting and important origins and meanings.
The process of understanding our environment beyond labels can be difficult as we challenge prejudices and assumptions within ourselves. But it can also be fun to play with the novelty, to take these labels to extremes and see how absurd they can often be. But most importantly, the process can be enriching, as we offer ourselves an opportunity to see the people and the world around us in more complex, beautiful ways.
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La Paz and Santa Cruz, the two largest cities in Bolivia, could not be more diverse – both in terms of geography and culture. Paceños are also known as collas. They are those who shaped the traditional image of Bolivians abroad – people of medium height with dark complexion and prominent facial features. Cruceños are called cambas. Living in diverse climatic conditions and the product of the interaction of Europeans with Guarani culture, cambas are described as taller and leaner than their colla counterparts, with typical mestizo traits.
Take the quiz to guess the differences!
1) If you are walking down street and you hear a sonorous yaaaa, it’s sure you are in
Santa Cruz
La Paz
2) Elay puej is ‘there you go’ for
cruceños
paceños
3) To say 'let’s have a drink’ they say chuparemos if they are
cambas
collas
4) Peladingo and pelada are friendly ways to address a boy or a girl in
Santa Cruz
La Paz
5) They wear flip-flops, but they are not gringos in
La Paz
Santa Cruz
6) If you reply ‘ ñeeee’ to someone you are a
camba
colla
7) If you feel cold, you exclaim ‘alalayyy’ when you are from
Santa Cruz
La Paz
Answers:
1) b
2) a
3) b
4) a
5) b
6) a
7) b
In the windscreen of every minibus and trufi in La Paz sits a handful of letreros indicating geographical locations; simply catch sight of your destination, walk out into the road and climb aboard. These colourful letters mounted on strips of black cards are some of La Paz’s most striking visual images. Amidst the sprawl of congested avenues at rush hour, blurs of pink, green and orange represent the energy and disorder of the city’s public transit system.
As these handmade signs are universal across hundreds of vehicles in La Paz, surely it would be easy to find the craftsmen behind such labels? Wrong.
After travelling all over the city with inconclusive leads from taxistas, bus drivers and even a transport union leader, it became clear that the letristas of La Paz were few and far between. However, internet cafes, stationary shops and street vendors alike advertise with the same visual aids. Despite the high demand for letreros in La Paz, their production is managed by a small number of individuals, an imbalance that didn’t make sense.
Among a line of kiosks on Avenida Perú in the Zona Pura Pura, I eventually found Raul Valero Angles, nestled behind a display of his colourful letreros. He was cutting letters out of paper at breakneck speed while assuring a cholita that her order of labels advertising pie de manzana were spelt correctly – a Spanish reading could be ‘apple feet’ as opposed to the desired ‘apple pie.’
Raul explained the scarcity of letristas in La Paz: ‘Here in Bolivia people are used to buying and selling, not producing. We produce right from the start – buying, painting and cutting material. That’s why people don’t want to get involved.’ He added lightheartedly, ‘We have to have a great deal of patience. It’s not easy making a letrero.’
Another factor making the letristas a rare sight may be the growing trend amongst businesses for la gigantografía, digitally designed signs that favour kitsch typefaces over the artisanal work of Raul and other letristas. Raul said, ‘The problem with las gigantografías is that they don’t stand out. That’s why customers come to us, because we use phosphorescent colours that people remember.’
Marcos Huanca is one of the city’s older letristas, his workshop located in the northern suburb of Villa Fátima. He began producing letreros 30 years ago, after growing up with a father who painted basketball courts. Looking out onto the Plaza del Maestro from a kiosk with just enough space for himself and a variety of coloured cards, Marcos has witnessed the evolution of La Paz’s transport system.
He remarked, ‘There are more buses than before; anyone can buy a van, sign up to a union and suddenly they’re a bus driver.’ Like Raul, his main source of business is making letreros for new drivers.
Marcos admitted that he no longer enjoys his business. In four years’ time, he hopes to move to the altiplano to grow rice and coca, for as he says, ‘Life is more peaceful there.’ For Raul, however, changing career paths is not an option. ‘You feel a special satisfaction when you spot one of your letreros, most of all when you see it on television,’ he said. ‘To see your own work of art, something that you have created – it’s a joy.’
If La Paz eventually moves away from collective minibuses, following in the steps of the Puma Katari bus and the teleférico, it will satisfy most paceños’ wish for a better transport system. At present, however, a La Paz without letreros and their distinctive colours is almost impossible to imagine.
The Music Collective and Label Putting Bolivian Beats on the Map
It was 3 am at digital art collective Oí Más Bass’ club night, La Bass, at Roots Reggae Bar in Sagarnaga, but people weren’t getting tired. Heavy drum & bass pounded through the crowd and the DJs’ silhouettes were hidden behind a screen of psychedelic projections. ‘I’m playing juke for the first time tonight,’ explained music producer DJ Quien between sets. Smiling, he added, ‘I think people will like it,’ before disappearing into a group of dancing paceños.
‘All artistic activism in Bolivia stems from the same roots,’ DJ Quien later explains over coffee at MagicK Café in Sopocachi. DJ Quien, whose real name is Bernado Resnikowski Beltran, is the cofounder of the OMB digital art collective and record label. For the past nine years, Oí Más Bass has provided Bolivian and international DJs with a platform to share their work and is the first Bolivian collective to have paid DJs in Europe.
Unsatisfied with the lack of support for digital artists, DJ Quien and four other friends founded OMB in 2006. ‘We took a DIY approach to bass and electronic music,’ he says. ‘We wanted to show that there are great things happening on this side of the world.’ Distributing a variety of genres from tropical bass to techno, OMB inspires followers ‘who want to be part of an intimate music scene and whose tastes don’t depend on fashion trends.’
After expanding to more than 25 artists, the collective founded its record label in 2013. The label releases music not exclusively produced by members of the collective and has signed producers from Venezuela, Chile and even Russia.
DJ Quien remarks, ‘OMB’s artists are aware of Bolivia’s financial reality. I think we’re part of a generation in which we make music because we love it, not for the money.’ Yet talented Bolivian artists often fear committing to their music whilst studying or working a job. DJ Quien admits, ‘It’s difficult when an artist needs to know they’ll have enough to put food on the table.’
‘The goal,’ he adds, ‘is to keep the dream alive and not lose track of our artistic vision amidst pressure for money and fame.’ The label hopes to eventually release its artists’ work in physical format, which leads me to visualise an OMB vinyl on the shelves of London record stores.
‘Bass music from Latin America has a strong identity worldwide due to its revival of native elements of Latin American music,’ comments DJ Quien. It isn’t simply a case of including samples of cumbia or chicha on a track as a novelty addition. Instead he describes its creation as an ‘internal personal search in the artists’ blood.’
At La Bass, the devotion of OMB’s followers was obvious, highlighting the importance of the collective’s presence in La Paz. Aside from putting Bolivia on the map for bass music, OMB brings like-minded people together to talk, listen, share music and dance. It can only be described as a positive cultural force within Bolivia.
Check out OMB’s music at ombrecordlabel.bandcamp.com or follow oimasbass.tumblr.com and @oi_mas_bass. Also head to Proyecto Kiebre/El Encuentro Latinoamericano de Arte Digital, co-founded by DJ Quien (Bernado Resnikowski Beltran) and Ninho (Adrian Flores). El Kiebre runs from September 1 through 26 with the closing concert at the Parque Urbano Central.
