MARTIN CHAMBI:
THE MAN WHO REVOLUTIONIZED
PERUVIAN PHOTOGRAPHY
By Lola
Sanchez-Carrion, Living
in Peru. JULY 9, 2018
F
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or photographer Martin Chambi, the Peruvian Andes always
held the greatest treasures. Meet the man who was long before his time in
putting the Andes, and all that they have to offer, on a pedestal.
It’s hard to imagine a time in which the Peruvian Andes
weren’t on the international community’s radar. But, this place, now bustling
with tourists eager to climb new peaks and experience indigenous cultures, was
quieter and less sought after in previous decades. In fact, the
cultural value nestled in these communities was continuously undermined
precisely because they were of indigenous descent (colonialism left its mark).
Despite this common apathy towards what lay beyond Lima’s
modern confines, Martin Chambi always found Peru’s greatest treasures in the
Andes, a world remote, but rich in an indigenous past.
Martin Chambi’s photos are proof that to understand this
country for its complex history—a place rooted in indigenous tradition, but
freshly painted with the strokes of colonial influence—we must look to its
mountains.
The Man Behind the
Camera
Born in a Quechua-speaking community in a small town in
Puno, Chambi came from a family of working-class miners and grew up immersed in
the struggles of rural life in Peru. When his dad was sent to Carabaya, a small
province in Puno, to work in a gold mine, Chambi tagged along. It was
on this new journey that photography snuck its way into his world, unexpectedly
tapping him on the shoulder and sparking a newfound interest in him.
There was a photographer at the site owned by the Inca
Mining Company of Bradford, Pennsylvania who was documenting both the mines and
their workers. Chambi took interest in his work and learned some of the basics
from him. He soon realized this was an interest that would eat at him
relentlessly until it was further pursued, so he made his way to Arequipa,
working under the influence of Max. T Vargas, a famous Peruvian photographer at
the time.
Developing a New
Lens
Víctor Mendívil y El Gigante |
In Arequipa, Chambi learned the many ways in which one can
play with light to accentuate a person’s certain physical features. Fascinated
by this newfound manipulation, he opened a studio in Cusco with blinds and
shutters that allowed him to mold natural light to his advantage. This studio
was the melting pot for the plethora of portraits Chambi produced, many of
which he is celebrated for today.
Some of these portraits are of wealthy, aristocratic
families. In these, young girls wear flowy white dresses and hair adorned with
ribbons, while men wear polished suits. Other portraits, by contrast, are of
families of indigenous descent. In these, men and women wear traditional
patterned ponchos and ornamented headpieces.
But perhaps most interesting is one of his portraits that
puts these two opposing worlds directly in conversation with each other,
something that was often unheard of in the early twentieth century (see right).
In this photo, titled Victor Mendivil y El Gigante (1929),
Chambi asked a fellow artist, Victor Mendivil, to pose next to an indigenous
man that Chambi’s grandfather met at a local market. He was surprised not only
by his imposing size, his grandfather said, but also by the pride and poise
with which he carried himself.
The indigenous man’s imposing nature, combined with Victor’s
intense gaze, seems to suggest there is a sense of respect towards “El
Gigante”. But Victor’s look is also one of slight confusion and fear, thus
reinforcing the disconnect between the classes in Cusco and highlighting how an
indigenous heritage made many Peruvians subject to social isolation.
Chambi’s photos were not limited to the realms of the
studio. He wanted to preserve the integrity of indigenous communities by
highlighting the beauty in their everyday-ness. He followed farmers
deep into the Peruvian Andes and
took more authentic portraits of traditionally
indigenous families. Far away from the restrictions of the studio, he
documented these people in their natural habitat, surrounded by the bold
mountains glowing in the sunlight that are so emblematic of the Peruvian
sierra.
Communities that had been reduced to stereotypes of
archaic, outdated practices were being depicted, in his photos, as people
worthy of respect. This photo, Ezequiel Arce y su Cosecha de
Papas (Cusco, 1939), is a portrait of an indigenous family sitting
atop the potatoes they produced during harvesting season.
"Yaulu" en Puno antes que en Bolivia |
By Including the potatoes in the photo, it serves to
showcase the traditional farming practices used to sustain families like
Ezequiel’s—practices rooted in tradition that they were proud of. This
photo, like many others of Chambi’s, produce discourse without the need for
words.
These photos didn’t have any commercial value until after he
passed away, for he was documenting the members of society that, at the time,
occupied the lowest of rankings and were often deemed less significant. But,
it is these photos for which he is most celebrated now; they manage to unveil a
unique society to the world under the gaze of someone who shares their history. His
vision was clear, even if to others his work in these remote places seemed
trivial. He was making history.
A Legacy Left Behind
Chambi’s capacity to see beyond and capture the depth of
these people is what eventually led to his global acclaim. In 1979, a
few years after his death, Chambi’s photographs reached the cusp of their
international appraisal in New York City. His work was finally displayed in the
Museum of Modern Art alongside Edward Ranney’s, a photographer that documented
indigenous communities in Peru and Mexico a few decades later.
In the press release for his 1979 exhibit, a critic said the
following of Chambi’s work:
“Chambi offers an insider’s view of a city distinguished by
a strange mix of cultures–traditional Inca and Spanish colonial–and the complex
network of relationships that such an inheritance engenders.”
Embedded in these 40-year-old words is the fabric still
holding Peruvian society together. For Peru is still a complex network of
relationships where the traditional and the colonial find themselves constantly
butting heads. In these collisions there is often beauty—colonial cathedrals
alongside markets selling indigenous goods, cuisine that incorporates flavors
from countries outside Peru’s confines, etc—but conflict still persists.
Although they do not pose a solution to the conflicts
that arise from this clash of cultures, Chambi’s photos remind us that behind
every community are voices worth hearing and stories worth telling. His work
serves as a testimony to the power a lens holds in speaking for hidden
communities, and shows us that if it speaks loud enough, people actually start
to listen.
COSECHA DE PAPAS |
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