Claridad: la vanguardia en lucha inaugura la temporada de exposiciones en el MNBA con una selección de obras del patrimonio revisadas por el guión curatorial de Sergio Baur, que traza un retrato de las vanguardias combativas a comienzos del siglo XX.

Una muestra puede exhibir una trayectoria estética, poner en diálogo a varios artistas, revelar cercanías entre obras. Pero a veces, pocas veces, una muestra apela al arte para retratar un clima de época.

Eso hace justamente Claridad: la vanguardia en lucha , la exposición que abre el año en el Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes, dedicada a retratar el ambiente intelectual que, entre los años 20 y 40 del siglo XX, dio origen y acompañó el arte del compromiso social y la militancia política, que rechazó el "arte por el arte" para buscar en la renovación estética una herramienta para la denuncia social.

La vanguardia militante que retrata la muestra es, por cierto, una de las corrientes renovadoras de una época de notable vitalidad en los debates y los cuestionamientos al arte académico. En rigor, Claridad? cierra el ciclo abierto, hace dos años, con la muestra sobre el grupo Martín Fierro, la vanguardia estética que fue contrapunto y complemento de la que ahora despliega su utopía en la renovada sala del MNBA.

Continuar a ler no La Nacion.

Claridad: La vanguardia en lucha 

Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes, Buenos Aires, até 20 de Maio.

En la aduana me preguntan
De qué país soy ciudadano.
Cuando la Catrina toca su pífano de hueso
Y remienda sueños olvidados, soy mexicano.
Si al abrir y cerrar un bandoneón se despliega la calle
Y un gato recorre las cornisas del barrio,
Mi ángel de la guarda habla en lunfardo.
Si la tristeza se riega en mi cuarto,
Envalleja mi pan y mi artesa, mi plato y mi cuchara,
Soy el huayno que acompaña al hombre solitario,
Un hombre llegado de la Puna.
Veo el fantasma de Teillier y soy agua de Chile,
Compatriota de cielos y naufragios.
Si el silencio se desliza en un bote de totora,
Si las nubes mascan coca para subir a su altura
soy boliviano.

 

Cuando suena una orquesta en la percusión del pecho
Lleva un sonido de trenes al túnel de la noche,
Soy de Santiago o La Habana, un lajero que regresa
A golpear con su bastón los tinglados del alba.
Si un potro recorre la llanura (si el viejo Simón Díaz
Trae un sombrero de oro, un color de araguaney),
Mi agua bautismal es Venezuela.
¿Sabe usted, impaciente aduanero,
Dónde queda Uruguay?, Queda en otro monte,
En otro mundo fabulado por un Conde sin reino.
Soy uruguayo al visitar el eco de sus cantos.
El viento trae semillas de lejanía,
Teje y desteje trenzas y nubes
Y un concilio de sombras oficia las distancias:
Soy correo de Chasquis,
Un incierto corresponsal de Gangotena.
Siempre que camino las florestas del lenguaje
Vuelvo a Darío y soy de un país
Que compone sonatinas tocadas por el mar.
Cuando intento reconciliarme con la muerte,
Soy compatriota de Barret, con él me hago oriundo
de Paraguay.

 

Entro a un mapa oculto en las manos de Cardoza,
En sus líneas soy vendedor de espigas y máiz
En la Antigua Guatemala.
Soy brasilero en Pernambuco, me apellido Bandeira
Y prefiero "el lirismo de los locos",
Los ojos de una muchacha envejecen sin remedio.
A veces soy colombiano, cuando en Ciénaga de Oro
Suenan los bombardinos
O un poeta pinta el verde de todos los colores.
¿Me entenderán en la aduana
Si les digo que soy del lugar donde te encuentres?

Juan Manuel Roca

(Medellín, Colômbia, 1946)

Poeta, ensaísta, jornalista.

O Festival de Curitiba abre nesta terça-feira, 27, sua 21.ª edição. Mais importante evento do gênero no País, a mostra chega à maturidade sem desviar-se do caminho que a caracterizou ao longo das últimas décadas. E parece zelar, sobretudo, por certa constância nos nomes convocados a compor sua grade.

Como ocorre tradicionalmente, a curadoria abriu amplo espaço para produções de apelo popular do eixo Rio e São Paulo. Algum respiro foi alcançado com brechas para bons exemplares do teatro de vanguarda e pesquisa. Mas chama atenção a frequência com a qual alguns diretores e companhias frequentam o festival. Presentes na edição deste ano, eles são velhos conhecidos do público paranaense.

Continuar a ler no Estado de São Paulo.

Festival de Teatro de Curitiba.

“Yo vengo de una larga tradición de mujeres escritoras: Rosario Ferré, Giannina Braschi, Ana Lydia Vega” comienza a explicar la autora puertorriqueña Mayra Santos-Febres. El boom del cuento caribeño escrito por mujeres ocurre en la década de los 80. Por lo menos allí es donde lo sitúan Cristina Bravo, Evangelina Soltero, Paloma Jiménez y Juana Martínez, cuatro profesoras de la Universidad Complutense de Madrid embarcadas en la épica tarea de recompilar todos los cuentos escritos por mujeres antillanas.

Desde comienzos de siglo ya se había dejado sentir la fortaleza de estas mujeres cuyo reto no es solo aprender a contar una buena historia, sino también evitar la etiqueta que suele dar a la mujer caribe. “La gente espera que nos dediquemos a parir. Que tengamos cinco, seis o siete hijos. Tiene que ser una familia numerosa en todo caso. Se sorprenden cuando digo que no quiero hijos” dice la poeta colombiana Lilian Pallares. No quieren que se les obligue a ser una sola cosa: “¿Por qué hay escoger entre ser madre, esposa o escritora? ¿Por qué no todo al tiempo?”, se preguntan Pallares, Santos-Febres y la performer dominicana Josefina Báez.

Continuar a ler no El País.

Leopoldo Brizuela tocaba el piano una noche de invierno de 1976 cuando entraron en su casa varios matones de la dictadura militar argentina. Vestían de forma muy elegante. Llamaron al timbre, no rompieron nada, pero portaban cada uno una especie de metralleta en el costado. Brizuela, que entonces tenía 12 años, siguió tocando el piano. La patota, el grupo de sicarios, llamó también en otra casa del barrio y secuestró a una vecina. Más de treinta años después la misma casa fue asaltada por varios policías ladrones. A Leopoldo Brizuela le sobrevino el clic de que todos los vecinos recibieron en su día la visita de los sicarios. Y cada uno calló o lo expresó de una forma distinta. Él nunca se había atrevido a contar nada a nadie sobre aquella noche, ni siquiera a sí mismo. Hasta que hace más de un año comenzó a escribir Una misma noche, novela con la que ganó ayer el Premio Alfaguara 2012.

“Decía Roberto Bolaño que la verdad literaria es la que sale de aquello que uno no le cuenta ni al psicoanalista”, comenta el autor. “Yo seguí tocando el piano y no me acordé nunca de eso. Pero eso nunca dejó de suceder. Sólo dejó de pasar cuando pude contarlo. Y solo he podido relatarlo a través de la escritura, que como ya le he dicho a mi psicoanalista, tiene un poder mucho más fuerte que la palabra hablada”.

Continuar a ler no El País.

SÃO PAULO, Brazil — All over the world cultural organizations are tightening their budgets and paring back productions. But Danilo Miranda faces a different challenge, one that makes him the envy of his peers. As the director of the leading arts financing entity in Brazil, his budget is growing by 10 percent or more annually, and he must figure out ways to spend that bounty, which amounts to $600 million a year.

Standing at the window of his office here one afternoon late last year, Mr. Miranda pointed to one of his group’s most ambitious initiatives. In the courtyard below, the avant-garde French troupe Théâtre du Soleil, based in Paris and led by Ariane Mnouchkine, was erecting a giant tent where it would begin a tour of Brazil.

Mr. Miranda’s organization, SESC, a Portuguese acronym for Social Service of Commerce, is also strengthening ties with American artists. It sponsors a jazz festival in conjunction with Nublu, the New York record label; has signed an “institutional partnership” with the Spanish-language TeatroStageFest company; and has presented work by David Byrne, the salsa drummer Bobby Sanabria and Robert Wilson. Mr. Wilson, a director whose works include the operas “Einstein on the Beach” and “the CIVIL warS,” is discussing a long-term collaboration with SESC, as is the Globalfest showcase of world music held in New York every January.

Continuar a ler no The New York Times.

Nadine Gordimer turns her hard-eyed gaze on post-democratic South Africa.

After his recent expulsion from the ANC, former ANC Youth League leader Julius Malema, who has never been known for his humility, said the people of South Africa should treat him in the same way that they had treated Nelson Mandela. In reply, the cross-dressing comedian Evita Bezuidenhout said: "What a great idea. Let's start with 27 years in jail …"

Here is a moment in South Africa's contemporary history that would surely have made it into Nadine Gordimer's new novel had Malema's expulsion not happened after her book was finished. For Malema, and South Africa's president, Jacob Zuma, stalk the pages of No Time Like the Present. Gordimer, Nobel laureate and one of the best-known chroniclers of apartheid, turns her hard-eyed gaze on post-democratic South Africa. Each beat of Zuma's march to power, each accusation against him of bribery or of rape, along with his suspension from government, his constant repetition of the resistance song "Bring Me My Machine Gun" that helped him on his return to power, are picked over and reacted to by the book's cast, as is Malema's insistence that he would, if necessary, "kill for Zuma".

Politics, and the way they play out, are the lifeblood of the couple at the centre of this book. He is Steve, white son of a Jewish mother and a Christian father, who, having used his knowledge of chemistry to make explosives for the ANC, now teaches science to under-prepared university students. She is Jabulile (Jabu for short), beloved daughter of the patriarchal Baba, who defied his people's customs to send her across the border so she could get a proper education, after which she joined the ANC. There in Swaziland, she also met and married Steve, their lives defined by the needs of the exiled movement.

Continuar a ler no The Guardian.

If you haven’t see some iteration or other of the “KONY 2012″ campaign yet, you have lived a dearly rare life in America over the last few months. Likely as not you’ve even seen comments on social media about how played out it is: “get over it already,” “people only care on the internet, not in real life,” that sort of thing. You may, however, have missed the series of Tweets by an extraordinarily bright and talented writer called Teju Cole. If this is the case: here’s your chance to make good.

I bring up Mr Cole because of late I have been working on three new posts: one on household energy use in Rocinha, another that discusses the sense of community observed in favelas, and the one you’re now reading that’s been on my mind for several months now but hadn’t started writing for lack of a launching pad. Teju Cole finally provided that for me.

Now that you’ve clicked through the link and seen his article at The Atlantic, you’ll begin to see what his Tweets and the article that sprung from them has to do with favelas. It’s all about systems and symptoms, causes, and effects, intentions and privilege. Mr. Cole is American of Nigerian decent, and you may have noticed, is a PEN/Hemingway winner. In other words, he is legit. And given his cultural heritage, life experience, perceptive mind, and provocative voice, he’s more than equipped to comment on the KONY 2012 phenomenon.

Continuar a ler no blog [FAVELissues].

Dakar, Senegal (CNN) -- Jazz, soul and a blend of rock and roll combine to make Senegalese music sound quite familiar, while the sound of the sabar, a traditional Senegalese drum, keeps the music true to its West African roots. I'm listening to the mbalax style of music for my latest "Inside Africa" assignment: to experience the special sounds of Senegal.

Without a doubt, the biggest name in Senegalese drumming is Doudou N'Diaye Rose. He's almost mythical; every person I interviewed spoke of him as the "sabar master." With more than forty children and an untold number of grandkids, he's been performing since the 1930's, gradually crafting the unique rhythm of this part of the world -- literally with his bare hands.

Meeting the legend was not what I expected. At 82 years old he has a small frame and is such a humble person. When we arrived at one of his homes, he was more concerned with our crew eating breakfast than showing off his many accomplishments. Doudou has performed with the Rolling Stones, Miles Davis, at the Cannes Film Festival and has been declared by UNESCO as a "living human treasure."

Continuar a ler na CNN.

Coup Leaders in Mali Struggle to Assert Their Control

DAKAR, Senegal — Residents of Bamako, the capital of Mali, waited in tension and uncertainty on Saturday for the outcome of a military coup d’état that overthrew the country’s elected government last week, ending more than 20 years of democracy in the nation.

Regional analysts and residents said little appeared to be resolved as junta leaders struggled to maintain control amid increasing international isolation and persistent rumors of an imminent countercoup. State television, seized early on by the coup leaders, went off the air for an hour on Friday night as soldiers set up barricades around the downtown building housing it.

Later, Capt. Amadou Haya Sanogo, the coup leader who had received military training in the United States, appeared briefly to assure viewers of his “good health,” followed by repeated declarations of support for the junta from young people and other backers, many using the same language. Speaking of the countercoup rumors, a military spokesman, Col. Idrissa Traore, said Saturday that there was “nothing serious in all that.”r on Friday night as soldiers set up barricades around the downtown building housing it.

Continuar a ler no New York Times.

Mali coup leader denies looting by his soldiers

Bamako, Mali (CNN) -- Mali's junta leader Capt. Amadou Sanogo decried looting of offices and shops in the capital, Bamako, but deflected blame from his renegade soldiers who staged a coup just weeks before scheduled elections. Sanogo blamed "ill-intentioned" people who were against the military takeover in Mali, once hailed as a shining example of African democracy.

Vandals ransacked Bamako, after food, fuel and basic commodities became scarce. "I deplore the acts of vandalism and pillaging which have occurred," Sanogo said on state television late Friday, urging Malians to stop the vandalism.

"This is not our mission, this is not our cause, this is not our objective," he said.

Continuar a ler na CNN.

Naufragés du putsch aux frontières du Mali

L'une des premières mesures prises par les putschistes à Bamako, une fois le coup d'état de jeudi certifié par leur déclaration à la télévision nationale (ORTM), a été de déclarer la fermeture des frontières. Ce n'est pas très original.

Mais d'un point de vue putschiste, cela se justifie. Dans le flottement qui suit la prise du pouvoir, mieux vaut boucler le pays. Enfin, c'est ainsi que cela se passait lors des grands vagues de coups militaires en Afrique, dans les années 1970, par exemple.

On pensait ce temps révolu. Ou modernisé d'une façon légère et subtile. Le coup d'état pour la démocratie....La dernière fois, au Niger, comme nous le racontait à Niamey, il y a quelques jours, un leader touareg de l'ex-rébellion "les soldats ont pris le palais à l'heure du déjeuner, et pour le dîner on avait déjà un nouveau gouvernement". Le président qui venait d'être renversé, Mamadou Tandja, avait tordu la constitution pour rester au pouvoir envers et contre tout, nul ne pleura sa chute. Les putschistes, plus tard, remirent le pouvoir au civil. Et on oublia ce petit détour en terre d'illégalité.

Continuar a ler no Le Monde.