Huichol: Mountain, Desert, New York (`95-`21)

Impresión piezográfica firmada al frente

Impresión piezográfica firmada al frente

“…The photographs of the Huichol by Pablo Ortiz Monasterio—taken on some twenty trips over the past three decades—reveal abundant evidence of cultural survival (what the Huichol call “la costumbre”), made possible by their extraordinary resistance to the religious, nationalist, and economic forces that have long assaulted—and that continue to assault—Indigenous communities everywhere. Though Ortiz Monasterio is also an outsider, he does not operate—like the anthropologist Lumholtz or the etnographer Diguet—as an old-fashioned preservationist, nor is he confident in the superiority of Western culture, nor is his work only destined for museum vitrines or archives. Rather, these complex images are the result of long and patient attempts at negotiation and collaboration, of working with the Huichol, amongst them, and ultimately making pictures as much for them as for audiences far from the Sierra Madre. In 1996, Fernando Ortiz Monasterio, an ecologist and engineer, was invited to design a bridge to allow the Huichol to safely cross a deep riverbed that became an impassable and dangerous torrent during the summer rains. An image by his brother Pablo records the bloody sacred sacrifice that celebrated its completion, just as he later documented a Huichol pilgrimage to another suspension bridge, in distant Brooklyn. Perhaps the only ethical position of the contemporary photographer engaged with Indigenous subjects is to work as a bridge or conduit, as a sanctioned recorder of sacrifices, pilgrimages, and other ceremonies—some more secret than others. These remain in the hands of the Huichol, and none of us will ever truly comprehend their spiritual meanings.” James Oles, Phd. Art Historian

Impresión piezográfica firmada al frente

Impresión piezográfica firmada al frente

“…The photographs of the Huichol by Pablo Ortiz Monasterio—taken on some twenty trips over the past three decades—reveal abundant evidence of cultural survival (what the Huichol call “la costumbre”), made possible by their extraordinary resistance to the religious, nationalist, and economic forces that have long assaulted—and that continue to assault—Indigenous communities everywhere. Though Ortiz Monasterio is also an outsider, he does not operate—like the anthropologist Lumholtz or the etnographer Diguet—as an old-fashioned preservationist, nor is he confident in the superiority of Western culture, nor is his work only destined for museum vitrines or archives. Rather, these complex images are the result of long and patient attempts at negotiation and collaboration, of working with the Huichol, amongst them, and ultimately making pictures as much for them as for audiences far from the Sierra Madre. In 1996, Fernando Ortiz Monasterio, an ecologist and engineer, was invited to design a bridge to allow the Huichol to safely cross a deep riverbed that became an impassable and dangerous torrent during the summer rains. An image by his brother Pablo records the bloody sacred sacrifice that celebrated its completion, just as he later documented a Huichol pilgrimage to another suspension bridge, in distant Brooklyn. Perhaps the only ethical position of the contemporary photographer engaged with Indigenous subjects is to work as a bridge or conduit, as a sanctioned recorder of sacrifices, pilgrimages, and other ceremonies—some more secret than others. These remain in the hands of the Huichol, and none of us will ever truly comprehend their spiritual meanings.” James Oles, Phd. Art Historian

“…The photographs of the Huichol by Pablo Ortiz Monasterio—taken on some twenty trips over the past three decades—reveal abundant evidence of cultural survival (what the Huichol call “la costumbre”), made possible by their extraordinary resistance to the religious, nationalist, and economic forces that have long assaulted—and that continue to assault—Indigenous communities everywhere. Though Ortiz Monasterio is also an outsider, he does not operate—like the anthropologist Lumholtz or the etnographer Diguet—as an old-fashioned preservationist, nor is he confident in the superiority of Western culture, nor is his work only destined for museum vitrines or archives. Rather, these complex images are the result of long and patient attempts at negotiation and collaboration, of working with the Huichol, amongst them, and ultimately making pictures as much for them as for audiences far from the Sierra Madre. In 1996, Fernando Ortiz Monasterio, an ecologist and engineer, was invited to design a bridge to allow the Huichol to safely cross a deep riverbed that became an impassable and dangerous torrent during the summer rains. An image by his brother Pablo records the bloody sacred sacrifice that celebrated its completion, just as he later documented a Huichol pilgrimage to another suspension bridge, in distant Brooklyn. Perhaps the only ethical position of the contemporary photographer engaged with Indigenous subjects is to work as a bridge or conduit, as a sanctioned recorder of sacrifices, pilgrimages, and other ceremonies—some more secret than others. These remain in the hands of the Huichol, and none of us will ever truly comprehend their spiritual meanings.” James Oles, Phd. Art Historian

“…The photographs of the Huichol by Pablo Ortiz Monasterio—taken on some twenty trips over the past three decades—reveal abundant evidence of cultural survival (what the Huichol call “la costumbre”), made possible by their extraordinary resistance to the religious, nationalist, and economic forces that have long assaulted—and that continue to assault—Indigenous communities everywhere. Though Ortiz Monasterio is also an outsider, he does not operate—like the anthropologist Lumholtz or the etnographer Diguet—as an old-fashioned preservationist, nor is he confident in the superiority of Western culture, nor is his work only destined for museum vitrines or archives. Rather, these complex images are the result of long and patient attempts at negotiation and collaboration, of working with the Huichol, amongst them, and ultimately making pictures as much for them as for audiences far from the Sierra Madre. In 1996, Fernando Ortiz Monasterio, an ecologist and engineer, was invited to design a bridge to allow the Huichol to safely cross a deep riverbed that became an impassable and dangerous torrent during the summer rains. An image by his brother Pablo records the bloody sacred sacrifice that celebrated its completion, just as he later documented a Huichol pilgrimage to another suspension bridge, in distant Brooklyn. Perhaps the only ethical position of the contemporary photographer engaged with Indigenous subjects is to work as a bridge or conduit, as a sanctioned recorder of sacrifices, pilgrimages, and other ceremonies—some more secret than others. These remain in the hands of the Huichol, and none of us will ever truly comprehend their spiritual meanings.” James Oles, Phd. Art Historian

Impresión piezográfica firmada al frente

Impresión piezográfica firmada al frente

Impresión piezográfica firmada al frente

Impresión piezográfica firmada al frente

Impresión piezográfica firmada al frente

Impresión piezográfica firmada al frente

Impresión piezográfica firmada al frente

Impresión piezográfica firmada al frente

“…The photographs of the Huichol by Pablo Ortiz Monasterio—taken on some twenty trips over the past three decades—reveal abundant evidence of cultural survival (what the Huichol call “la costumbre”), made possible by their extraordinary resistance to the religious, nationalist, and economic forces that have long assaulted—and that continue to assault—Indigenous communities everywhere. Though Ortiz Monasterio is also an outsider, he does not operate—like the anthropologist Lumholtz or the etnographer Diguet—as an old-fashioned preservationist, nor is he confident in the superiority of Western culture, nor is his work only destined for museum vitrines or archives. Rather, these complex images are the result of long and patient attempts at negotiation and collaboration, of working with the Huichol, amongst them, and ultimately making pictures as much for them as for audiences far from the Sierra Madre. In 1996, Fernando Ortiz Monasterio, an ecologist and engineer, was invited to design a bridge to allow the Huichol to safely cross a deep riverbed that became an impassable and dangerous torrent during the summer rains. An image by his brother Pablo records the bloody sacred sacrifice that celebrated its completion, just as he later documented a Huichol pilgrimage to another suspension bridge, in distant Brooklyn. Perhaps the only ethical position of the contemporary photographer engaged with Indigenous subjects is to work as a bridge or conduit, as a sanctioned recorder of sacrifices, pilgrimages, and other ceremonies—some more secret than others. These remain in the hands of the Huichol, and none of us will ever truly comprehend their spiritual meanings.” James Oles, Phd. Art Historian