POOROLOGY* OF THE DESPERATE BEAN
We cooked the desperate and shoeless bean of the betrayed nationality,
the bean of the ultramontan government,
the bean without seasoning and without blinking of the social murders and the massacres made with the great foreign capital on the vanguard, barrack-like and yellow like a fusillade, screaming the neighbourhood desperation and the fall of the Republic in the sewers of the oligarchy, in between kicks and cassocks, the pain of the country populated by beggars and multimillionaires, populated of terror and crimes.
Pablo de Rokha
Introverted country, surrounded by the infinity of mountains, the sea, deserts, glaciers. Melancholy, a feeling of smallness, isolation, envy. A country of tragic experience: history, politics, tragic economy. And tragic artists, dionisiacs and suicides. Earthquakes, floods, volcanic lava founding the landscapes. ¡Crazy geography! Snow, stone, coal, copper, wine. Chile: A mix of rawness and beauty, we grow here in between human violence and the healing grace of nature. Poetry has been our art by excellence, and probably the most genuine and close to love we have ever had as a nation. The poetry is a way of processing horror through beauty, or as Flaubert said "art feeds on holocausts".
I re-read The wailings, The murdered republic, Pablo de Rokha's Poorology and in that poetic catharsis were the incursion and expression of the repressed, and it's a balm to the social disgraces of our country. These photos are daughters of the same breath, and even though sometimes grotesque and painful, they are live images of a remote but still active reality in Chile. The portrayed are not alone: there are whole generations in their gaze. Right there is the miscegenation, the civil war of 1891, the brutality of the chilean huaso, and the drama of landlords and the farmhand, the worker's massacre's, the coup, our democacy and something else...
Look at them well, even though our heart tightens, because in them there is something important in the country which needs to be said. A humble truth, that tastes of bread and effort, far away from the table of the powerful.
*Neologism invented by poet Pablo de Rokha to designate the comprehension of a popular chilean root, condensed in the figure of the poor man.
Please click te image to see it full size