'Peace at the Table : Food of War' exhibition text for The Museum of Contemporary Art Bogotá
‘Peace at the Table’, The Museum of Contemporary Art, Bogotá
November 2019 - March 2020
EXHIBITION TEXT BY GABRIELLA SONABEND, OCTOBER 2019
The Food of War collective have been travelling around the world over the past 10 years, researching and responding to contemporary and historic narratives where food encapsulates the complexity of different conflicts, presenting their work in the form of multimedia exhibitions. These conflicts are not just political, they stretch from the familial to the societal and encompass the collective and the individual, they portray conflicts of belief, of dogma, of personal identity, of contradicting narratives, they are the fabric of human life.
For the latest and most ambitious Food of War exhibition entitled Peace at the Table, 25 international artists respond to the subject within the context of contemporary Colombia presenting their work at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Bogotá. Approaching a subject as vast as Food of War is a Sisyphean task, the relationship between food and conflict is as entwined as that of human life with breath. With each exhibition this international collective (5 core artists and guest artists) has honed in on a particular history, creating expansive projects which invite local audiences to participate through sharing their views and stories.
The exhibition title Peace at the Table conjures a multitude of images and as a phrase often evokes its antithesis, it speaks also of the chaos beyond the table. It suggests a moment in which the domestic setting acts as an island safeguarded from the turbulent surrounding oceans, the storms and tsunamis beyond. It implies to achieve peace we must be willing to share intimacy, to eat together, to use the same utensils, to breath the same air, to be in the same place at the same time. This is a beautiful idea but in order to eat together, first we must know where the meal is taking place, we must be able to access transport to reach that location, we must understand each other’s languages to share stories, we must be tolerant to the same foods, to share the flavours, we must be equally able-bodied to sit beside each other at a level and we must not be intimated by our neighbours, to feel we can sit beside them.
Colombia’s internal conflict is like an enormous knot, furiously tied together with strings stretching to countries, corporations and individuals all over the world, reaching from deep history to the present. To unpack the conflict requires the knowledge of countless historians, activists, indigenous elders, journalists and scientists; those with knowledge of the many natural resources of the country and how these have been cultivated and exploited over time; those who understand the geography of the country and how the Andes and the Amazon have acted as an impenetrable barriers between communities; those who have studied how the diverse ecosystems have given refuge to the persecuted and secrecy to hidden perpetrators; historians of indigenous practices; of colonial history; of American corporations; of the founding of revolutionary armed forces and the growth of the military and paramilitary - all this and more without even broaching the subject of cocaine. Colombia’s history is probably one of the most complex and misunderstood in the world, glamorised by some, demonised by others, it is a country defined by both blood feuds and blood promises, a nation of passion, love, fear and pain driven by food and conflict.
In One River botanist Wade Davis shares a deep insight into the relationship between the biodiversity of Colombia and geopolitics, as illustrated by the dependency of America on their botanist Schultes to navigate unknown territory of the Amazon to identify a genus of rubber tree which could withstand blight and generate enough rubber to win the Second World War. In The Open Veins of Latin America Eduardo Galeano illustrates the inextricable relationship between natural resources in Latin America and geopolitics, following narratives from the identification of a resource, to the enforcement of slave labour to extract it, to mono farming decimating ecosystems, to the inevitable collapse of societies and dependance on imports, welfare and more drastic measures. Gabriel Garcia Marquez ends his epic 100 Years of Solitude with a reference to the United Fruit Banana Massacre of 1929 which may be seen as the catalyst of political unrest. In ‘More Terrible Than Death’ Robin Kirk reveals how both FARC and paramilitary groups manipulated the conflict in Colombia to allow them to seize natural resources. These are just a small number of crucial texts which begin to unravel the knot of Colombian history and conflict.
What does Peace at the Table mean in Colombia? In 2016, after half a century of civil conflict, The Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia (FARC) turned over their weapons to a United Nations team and a peace treaty was signed in Cuba. In Esteban Peña’s poignant video piece Salt we see an image made of salt showing six hands joining together to symbolise an accord. The hands belong to President Santos (Colombia), President Raul Castro (Cuba) and Iván Márquez (Head of FARC). Over four minutes the artist uses his own hands to erase the historic image, reminding the audience of the fragility of peace, the indefinite nature of politics and the pain and bitterness that remains after the destruction of a promise.
‘Salt’, Esteban Peña, Video, 4 minutes
In Colombia, salt is used to ward off evil spirits but it also represents an ancient currency. Before the Spanish colonised Latin America, salt was more valuable than gold (a conduit to commune with the spirits of the cosmos). The Spanish gave gold currency, coveting the resource, creating a new source of conflict. Salt is also the legacy of the Wayuu of La Guajira, the only indigenous people of Colombia never to have been dispossessed from their land. In Britain the phrase adding ‘salt to a wound’ suggests we are exacerbating an already painful situation, in the old testament being turned to a pillar of salt is punishment for disobeying god. This piece encapsulates these references and many more.
‘Heart’, Omar Castañeda, mixed media sculpture
Omar Castañeda uses gold to play with ideas of value and hierarchy. In his sculpture Heart two bird feet reach out of a gold plated tin can, forming a heart shape. These are encased by a glass jar, presented as a museum relic. For Castañeda, the tin is a crucial motif, referencing the point we desire imports and exoticize foreign commodities, thus abandoning our own traditions. He observes the shift from something being imposed upon a culture, to a culture expecting, even wanting that imposition. This piece specifically references a phenomena which has arisen from the recent peace-time in Colombia. After the signing of the 2016 treaty, large areas previously dominated by FARC have been opened up to the rest of the country and thus to the rest of the world. This creates both positive and negative impacts especially in the Amazon where biologists and botanists have discovered new plant and animals species and simultaneously previously isolated and protected indigenous communities have been rapidly exposed to the modern world bringing with it disease, technology and an influx of new food including tinned products and most problematically, sugar.
The introduction of sugar to indigenous communities has rapidly brought with it numerous health issues endangering life in a new way shepherded in by the peace process. New access to previously unchartered jungle territory brings with it new forms of profiteering, with discovery of species comes threat of extinction, with freedom comes exposure to the entrapment of capitalism. Castañeda’s sculpture exists within a bell jar perhaps with irony to remind us that nothing can truly remain contained, refusing a relief from guilt and responsibility. The past prevails in the present. Finally referencing ancient indigenous practices, Castaneda uses gold as a conduit to the modern gods of capitalism and trade.
Seeking to understand how the indigenous communities of the Amazon have become so quickly addicted to sugar leading to sudden issues with obesity, Quintina Valero has spent the past months forging connections with Amazon communities. Valero’s photographs are the result of the close relationships she forms with her subjects who frequently have never shared their stories. Her nurturing method of investigating has allowed her insights into some of the world’s most fragile situations for example in her series depicting survivors of the Chernobyl disaster. Organising to spend time in the Amazon has proven particularly challenging as raging forest fires have made vast stretches of the jungle inaccessible and resulted in a large military presence. It is currently unknown whether she will be able to reach her chosen indigenous community to tell their story. Now in 2019 as the peace treaty has ruptured it is impossible to know which conflict will next lay claim to this land.
Sol Bailey-Barker looks at another era of the history of sugar. In his sculpture Common Wealth he combines a 1910 British cricket bat with 300 spoons. Referring to the period of history from 1655-1834 in which Britain dominated the West Indies with sugar production using both indentured labour from Britain and slaves from Africa; the sugar trade built the infrastructure of the British Empire. The wealth amassed from the exploitation of African slaves and Caribbean resources is embedded into modern Britain, visible in the architecture of cities, the cultural abundance of British museums, the ports, the canals and the configuration of the UK economy. During the height of this period, sugar was entering Britain at a rate which enabled prices to drop to a point where working people could consume the commodity, with sugary tea replacing beer as the staple for workers. The highly addictive import, which provides short term energy boosts, rapidly became a crutch for a nation fuelled to sustain an empire. Bailey-Barker uses a cricket bat to reflect both on the disparity between the lives of the classes and also on how British pastimes spread with the empire, morphing to symbolise other cultures struggle with British imperialism and the break from it.
‘Common Wealth’, Sol Bailey-Barker, mixed media sculpture
Considering another mono-farmed resource, Nina Ditto’s photographic series Maduro (meaning ‘ripe’ in English) hinges on the pun in the name of the current president of Venezuela, Nicolas Maduro. Unapologetically using the banana as a phallic symbol to highlight the egotistical and macho nature of Venezuelan politicians the piece has a weighty historical context evoking the phrase ‘Banana Republic’ a state that is politically unstable as a result of the domination of its economy by a single export controlled by foreign capital.
‘Maduro’, Nina Dotti, Photographic series
Venezuela’s food crisis is not due to a lack of resources, climate change or natural disasters, it is a crisis propelled by politics alone. During Chavez’s presidency high oil prices and seemingly abundant resources justified his unrestrained spending which nationalised farms, factories and corporations and subsidised food. After the death of Chavez in 2013, Maduro took over the role of president inheriting with it a crippling debt teamed with plunging oil prices. His response was to print money, leading to hyperinflation, he curbed imports, strangled domestic industries and when he finally decided to tighten currency control the result was corruption, poverty and widespread hunger. To make matters worse Maduro began to reward political loyalty by giving food subsidies to those who signed up for the Fatherland Card (which tracks voting participation).
Juan Cabello’s collage series reflects on the crisis depicting both empty shelves and natural abundance, conflating the world’s exotic perception of Latin American countries with the stark reality of life in Venezuela today. Venezuela’s food crisis is so extreme that its citizens are fleeing across the border into Colombia to seek basic necessities. With over one million Venezuelans now living in Colombia, dogma suggesting they are lazy, incompetent people is spreading to justify why this has happened. The idea that Venezuelans have somehow brought this crisis upon themselves echoes the terrifying words of previous facist leaders and mirrors the sentiments of xenophobic people the world over. Cabello’s piece highlights how hard it can be to reconcile a vastly complex reality with outsider projections of what a country is and represents. It speaks of a power to brand one another’s narratives whilst conveniently turning a blind eye. How can we bring this to the table in search of a solution?
‘Venezuela’, Juan Cabello, Print series
The pain of being a survivor and an outsider is brought into sharp focus in Marina Abramovic’s piece The Onion in which she stares at the camera and eats a raw onion as tears run down her face. Her voice-over laments a life of feeling inadequate and culminates at the point where she expresses her shame over the war in Yugoslavia, the way she looks and her wanting of anything. The piece ends with ‘I want not to want anymore.’ Her eating of the onion feels evocative of Eve eating the forbidden apple in the Garden of Eden, the timeless link between a quest for knowledge and exposure to pain, as if her wants beget inevitable punishment.
‘The Onion’, Marina Abramovic
This piece speaks of a women’s visibility within any contemporary societal structure, associating the female struggle to articulate oneself publicly with a feeling of shame projected on acts of bravery and self-belief. In contrast to Ditto’s piece Maduro, here our female protagonist must consume what is bitter rather than what is ripe is she wishes to take centre stage. The piece echoes Abramovic’s earlier works for example 'Art must be Beautiful, Artists must be Beautiful’ proposing the inseparability of body and mind by challenging apparent limitations of physical stamina. The Onion does also provide a message of hope as Abramovic’s endurance and willingness to exposure her own struggle is a reminder of our capacity to overcome adversity from others and perhaps most poignantly here, from within.
One man who fought in the face of adversity and had great hope for his country, Jorge Eliécer Gaitán was a politician and leader of Colombia’s socialist movement in the 1940s. Gaitán dreamt of uniting the people and was both adored and despised. After his assassination in 1948 (which arguable sparked La Violencia) his daughter preserved his brain and heart in formaldehyde, hoping one day for it to be scientifically studied. Unfortunately due to the lack of precision in the preservation process over time the formaldehyde dried out and the brain and heart congealed in the semi-abandoned Gaitán museum in Bogotá. Artist German Arrubla recently gained access to this museum to create a photographic series of Gaitán's brain in its current condition which he shows looks uncannily like chocolate. This is what becomes of a great leader, after a peculiar act of love from a child who hopes the future may learn from the past, a past now congealed and indecipherable.
‘Gaitán’s Brain’, German Arrubla
Reflecting on how food can be an expression of love, curator and writer Hernan Barros describes his mother as the first gastro-performer he encountered. As a child, Barros refused to eat so his mother found endless ways to turn his food into artworks that related to elements of the world which excited her son, referencing what he was learning at school, watching on TV or reading in books all in the form of arepas. Barros maintained a fascination with how food can become performance and how this can be used to approach awkward or contentious subject matter. As a curator and and collaborator within this project this is most clearly evidenced in the Food of War’s collaboration with Simone Mattar.
Simone Mattar presents Opera of the Pigs, a challenging gastro-performance about corruption and power, which exposes her audience to a cacophony of snorts, grunts, animal expressions and human explanations. Through a sung narrative Mattar reveals in three acts how the pig will continue to inhabit the deepest dreams of cooks and poets, holding a sacred place in the subconscious of humanity. Historically the pig symbolises money and poverty, celebration and repulsion, luck and greed. The pig has been used as a metaphor throughout human history, banished by some faiths and cultures whilst being understood as a mirror of humanity by others.
Using the dramatic traits of opera; its plasticity, theatricality, the convergence of mythos, reality, metaphor and characters portrayed with absurdity and sincerity; this piece presents an art form used and adapted throughout the centuries in the same way the pig has been adapted through local recipes over time. The opera form allows the artist to indulge in political satire whilst maintaining distance from the subject, protected in part by the absurdity of the performance.
Within Colombia this piece takes on a new historical context referencing the introduction of the pig to Latin American in the 16th Century by the Spanish conquistadors. Now pork is a staple of the Colombian diet found in almost every meal.
‘Opera of the Pigs’, Simone Mattar, gastroperformance
In August 2019, Iván Márquez and Jesús Santrich of FARC released a Youtube video announcing their return to war after just three years of peace. Justifying conflict because they feel the government has not upheld their side of the deal it is unknown how many retired FARC soldiers will chose to rejoin the conflict after experiencing lives outside of guerrilla warfare. The peace treaty has not ended all conflict and other violent forces have profiteered in the recent peace period. It has, however, shown many the possibility of a life beyond constant conflict allowing guerrilla soldiers to return to their families and enjoy the most basic and important elements of human life such as sharing food together.
Peace at the Table is more than just an exhibition, it seeks to turn the museum into an active forum of discussion and heightened sensitivity to the web of motivations for and efforts against conflict. Over a period of three months the Museum of Contemporary Art symbolically becomes the table, at which all voices are invited to sit together to share their piece of this vast narrative helping to unravel the dense knot of Colombian history which is ultimately a global history. The artworks become the food, to be chewed on and digested becoming part of the audiences’ constitution. The works must be consumed and digested in order for the audience to share an internal culture and to see through each other’s eyes. Thus the entire show is a gastroperformance, a multi-sensory opera which holds space for ideas and opinions in a safe context. It is an invitation to find new ways of living through open communication beginning with the simple act of sharing food.
