Aymar Ccopacatty has been working on uniting his art practice with and lifelong studies of his indigenous Aymara heritage, currently taking shape in important new ways.
The project has to do with decolonization of logic, language and the heart. A family curse imposed by a catholic priest and legends combining oral tradition with investigation of Spanish chronicles from the 1500’s.
Ccopacatty’s art practice has always involved the textile and building techniques learned from his family in a traditional context, now the body of work becomes a part of telling his family story.
The profound desire and work toward mental and actual liberation of personal family histories as pre-colombian idol worshippers and resulting genetic survivors of holocaust in the Spanish silver mines of Potosi and otherwise.
Aymar was the Dirt Palace Storefront Window Gallery artist September - October. Below is an interview with my Aymar by Artist/Cultural worker Shey 'Rí Acu' Rivera Ríos.
SR: Your work exemplifies the use of craft in ways that connect past and future, traditional and contemporary. Tell us about how these collisions live in you and your practice.
AC: My experience learning traditional Andean weaving, boat making, thatching, Shepherd shelter and so many other repetitive manual construction techniques from the mid 80s onward really hit a wall around the millennium as single use plastics and other consumer novelties began to arrive with me on the airplane to Peru. There's a thirst for all these novelties in traditional context, a juxtaposition of the first world's hunger for manual calming creative therapies and natural materials, as we thirst for a reconnection with nature. People who have been living off the land for thousands of years want a break from that! I feel that my life and work is a bridge between these extremes. I like to point these differences out to people through my work, each needs a little bit of the other.
plasti-wampu
SR: The piece Plasti-Wampu exemplifies how, in your approach to making, you often move between using natural materials and plastics or disposable objects. What do these materials mean to you?
AC: As stated above, the unresolved tension between natural and man-made materials really does hold our generation in its spell. Just look at the rapid pace of technology which implies mining of rare earth minerals to provide these tools. A lot of these screen savers have blissful natural scenes in them, why is that? The Human Condition yearns to synthesize and not harm through our impact on nature. Yet as of now, the harm is absolute. I do hope my use of natural materials and plastic cast-offs can highlight the unresolved human calamity, hopefully with some humor and beauty.
SR: Tell us about how you first begin to conceive a work. What does that look and feel like?
AC: I like to dream, step off the carnival ride of fast paced living. Harvesting the phragmites reeds recreates its community. People together, holding the reeds in an embrace while an assistant ties the bundles which all stand like centuries overlooking nature reminds me of freshly harvested wheat in Peru. Anything that slows down the pace and allows me to dream can then find its way into my process for creating new work. Where the mountains of Peru once provided materials, I now find a lot of art ingredients from the ocean.
AC: The old paradigm of environmentalism, carbon credits, corrupt ngos, especially the United Nations which has slowly become controlled by those who fund it — This type of environmentalism does not appreciate the global south. People who left a very small footprint on the land for millennia are slowly pushed off and into cities, while the wealthy corporations and elite wrap their hands around the world's bread baskets. I believe it only has to get a little worse before it gets better. I base a lot of my spiritual awareness on indigenous prophecies and generational messages which are definitely not mainstream. Just as anthropologists are learning to be aware of their influence in those who they study, I would hope environmentalists start to become aware and supportive of indigenous peoples' deep connection to the land. In this very political moment it seems counterintuitive, but we must be wary of so-called green industry. A lot of the lithium and cobalt is used in electric batteries. We have horrible scarred earth where it is extracted, in many environmentally sensitive areas of the world. I like a DeWalt battery just as much as anyone else, but the corporate line that pushed us nicotine for 50 years has now become the petroleum industries line, and I fear will become the green industries line. I don't think we have another hundred years to continue to fall victim to these psychological operations
Plastic Shaman
SR: Your work will be exhibited in the storefront gallery of the Dirt Palace arts space in Olneyville, close to the Woonasquatucket River. What does having your artwork in this location mean to you, especially this particular installation?
AC: I remember a time when the river was very very dirty with a lot of trash in it, a lot of leftover post-industrial waste. All these efforts in making it a communal space, a cleaner space, the water flowing on a sunny day, can help us imagine what it was like before the Mayflower. This particular installation at the dirt Palace, utilizing phragmites reeds, is ironic because of the reed’s invasive origins. There are many other native occurring species that have been displaced by phragmites. I would like to make another reed wampu, to activate and ride the river downstream. Just as so many of our origins could be considered invasive. We must slowly become native, become stewards.
SR: What do you hope people will feel or receive when they encounter your work in this space?
AC: One work that I had, from across from Monohasset Mill, was destroyed by a right-wing troll during Trump's first presidency. I felt honored that I finally made something that upset someone so much to go out of their way to wreck it. Those that have a steward in their hearts will immediately understand the work as family as in relationships.
SR: In the piece Kusillo (Andean Clown), you use costume and performance as sculpture. Tell us about the use of performance and costume in this work, and its connection to Indigeneity and globalization.
AC: As in much of my other work, the juxtaposition between natural and invasive materials hold sway. The Kusillu is a traditional dance that has been going on for thousands of years and shows a community how not to act, or what if I did everything this way? One thing I have learned about living and observing native people, is that we have a much easier time dealing with themes like mental illness or criminality in a communal setting where accountability is absolute. These are some of the themes that the Kusillo dance touches upon. I envisioned a postmodern Kusillu made of plastic, beholden to the post industrial situation.
Kusillo (Andean Clown)
SR: You have a strong community practice of collaboration and relationality. What is something meaningful you’ve learned about creating work with others?
AC: The biggest thing I've learned, creating work and community and collaboration, is horizontality — which in this meritocracy environment can be difficult. People relax so quickly when they see horizontality. I don't think these vertical power structures are intrinsically natural to humanity. People yearn for a different way. That structure was useful to create absolute dominion over nature now it lacks the power of creating sustainability for Mother Earth.
AC: I'm honored to have been asked to participate in the land you stand on exhibit, I worked for a year preparing the reeds ahead of time. The effort was huge. I used a lot more reeds than I thought I would in that sculpture, which I visualized as a bridge, as is my life between radically different cultures. We all need to try and bridge these divides. We must do better, and this piece speaks to that desire of betterment
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