Studio closure

Over the past few days I got all my plates ready for re-etching, just to find out that the print studio has closed its doors again for the next three weeks as a result of renewed Covid-19 restrictions (alas, we're in the third wave, but my vaccination appointment is on the horizon!). As frustrating as this is, there is nothing I can do, and on second thought it might not be such a bad thing to digest the initial disappointment that the plates didn't turn out as I had hoped in the first place. I will change gears for now and focus my attention on the text component of this project again. Hopefully I can make good progress with this part and I won't need to leave it all till the end. 

(Image: Early proofs that need some more work.)

Etching Plates

Etching Plate being pulled out of Ferric Chloride bath. 

For the past two weeks I've been crazy busy etching my plates and stopping out the aquatint areas. Overall the plates look good and I was super excited to start proofing earlier this week. Unfortunately I'm disappointed with the etch on most of my plates. The aquatint isn't fine enough and many of the etches aren't dark enough, i.e. they look too speckled and coarse for my liking; they just don't have the richness I want. I tried to darken some areas with a roulette, but that was very labour intensive and didn't improve the look very much, so, with heavy heart I have decided to re-etch some of my plates that need it. This feels like quite a setback at the moment, since it will add another week or two to my timeline for this project. I had a bit of a disappointed cry yesterday after all the work I put in, but now that the decision is made, I know it's the right thing to do and I'll be happier with the results in the end. I feel this shouldn't have happened, since I'm good at what I do, but I threw one variable into the process and used a new product for the aquatints that's easier to use than my airbrush and that was a mistake. Oh well, lesson learned. 

Screenprinting on Copper

With a cautious and limited reopening, I was granted access to the printmaking studio at Martha Street Studio (thank you, thank you, thank you!), which has been closed to artists since last fall due to Covid-19. There are a few processes I can't do at home, such as etching my plates, doing some aquatint (I need good ventilation for that), exposing some screens and screenprinting. I did as much prep work at home as possible, so I hopefully will be able to etch all my plates within the next week or two. One of the etching processes I utilize more and more is screenprinting an acrylic resist onto a copper plate. Rather than needling the plate in a traditional way, i.e. drawing an image with a steel needle through a hard ground coating, I create a drawing with a medium of my choice, like grease marker, ink washes, chalk, etc. I then scan my drawing, invert and flip it, and print out a stencil, which I then expose onto a screen. This allows me to work with a much broader range of mark making in etching and, in the case of these plates, use a bolder line to give some of my figures a stronger presence in my prints. That's the plan anyways...let's see if it'll work. Here is a small video of the process (printing missionary on horseback): 

Digital Printing

Last week I finally had an appointment at Martha Street Studio with the digital printing technician to get some digital printing done on their fabulous large scale Epson printer. I hope to successfully incorporate some of the early maps I have come across in my research as a light background layer. I have one sketch map of the Chaco by Seymour Hawtrey published in the SAMS magazine in 1910, one by Wilfrid Barbrooke Grubb printed in the SAMS magazine in 1910, and one map by Walter Regehr of the Makthlawaya Anglican mission station from 1979. Maps are very much part of the colonization process, creating a record of accessing and opening up of the land, and I think they will lend themselves well as a possible underlying background layer in some of my prints. I am printing an on translucent Asian paper, which will allow me to move around and layer other printing plates on top. I'll write more about the printing process once I get to that stage. 

Plate preparation

Life happened. I had to work on some other stuff for a few days and then I got a cold (thankfully I didn't have Covid). I fell a bit behind with my timeline for this project, but I'm back at it. For the past week I've worked on getting my etching plates ready: I filed the edges, put a mordant-resistant backing on all the plates, polished and degreased the surfaces, coated the plates with asphaltum and started needling the plates. I have prepped sixteen plates of different sizes. Each plate will hold different image elements based on key ideas of my research, which I will then combine and layer in a series of prints.

The asphaltum is a mordant-resistant tar and wax based coating through which I then draw my images with a steel needle to expose the copper. When I put the plate into an acid bath, the mordant bites into the exposed parts of the plate, which will later hold the ink. I had to improvise a bit and set up a work space in the kiln shed to coat my plates. Fortunately the weather is getting warmer now that spring is here. I don't have any ventilation in my basement studio and I don't have access to the downtown print studio yet, so I try to get as much as possible done from home. I've tried to book some time at the print studio to etch my plates, but with pandemic restrictions it seems booking time is more complicated than I anticipated. I hope to figure out a solution this coming week, so I can continue. 

Text or No Text?

Since I have spent so much time reading over the past few months and I'm interested in the different voices and narratives I have come across, I'm wondering if I should include the text material somehow in my project. While my artwork is generally informed by research, I have never directly included text in my work. Rather than creating just a series of prints, I could perhaps add a text page for each one that represents text excerpts with different narratives. This is turning into a complete portfolio/artist book, but I like the idea. Hmm...it's early days and I'll need some advice and input on this text idea. I've felt quite overwhelmed with how to organize the text, but I think I've figured out an early rough sketch system that helps me get some order into this content chaos. I've tentatively chosen ten topics for prints and I've been collecting snippets of text from different sources for each one. I'll have to narrow the text excerpts down later, but for now I'd rather have more to choose from. I will also have to figure out how to cite all the excerpts properly (ugh, my least favourite thing), and how to get everything translated from German, Spanish, English. I think it might be a good idea to make one portfolio in English and one in Spanish. There is also the text design I'll have to take into consideration. Now the other question is, will I have enough time to get everything done? Would the images be strong enough to stand alone without the text? I don't know yet, but I still have some time to think about it all, but I'm rather excited about this idea at the moment. 

Early Sketches

Over the course of the past few weeks I've started to collect image material and reference images that I might want to use for this project. I like to draw on tracing paper, which allows me to layer and move the different image elements around. Since I'm a printmaker and printmaking is all about multiples, I like to repeat certain image elements in different prints to tie the different prints together not only thematically, but also visually. 

Printing

I had the itch to start some printing. Unfortunately the print studio in town where I need to do my etching is still closed because of Covid-19. I have a plate 'library' at home, with different plates containing different image elements that allow me to build up multi-layered imagery. (I have worked with issues such as dispossession and cattle ranching in the Chaco before, so some of the plates will work for this project too). So, two weeks ago I did some printing, and then I got stuck because I need new imagery to keep going. 

The Enxet Sur

I can't believe it's been a month since my last blog post. I've been so busy doing some more reading, finding images to works with and working on some early sketches, mixing some inks, starting to print a few prints and selecting text excerpts to possibly work with. More about that later. 

Before moving on, I've been meaning to write a post about the Enxet Sur, the people from whose ancestors most of the collection items stem. I think the reason I've put off writing about the Enxet Sur is because I don't quite know how to start. Until I began reading for this project to get some background information about the collection, I must admit I didn't know much at all about the Enxet Sur and I feel so far from having expert knowledge to share about another culture. Having grown up in one of the Mennonite communities in the Chaco, I lived on Enlhet Norte territory, although contact with the Enlhet Norte was also very limited for me. I have probably passed by some of the Enxet Sur hut and tent settlements along the Ruta Transchaco on my way to and from Asunción. Since many of the communities have no claim on their ancestral lands, they end up living on public land adjacent to the highway since they have nowhere else to go. Some communities have lived along the Ruta for 20-30 years. I remember sometimes trying to imagine what it would be like to live along the Ruta as I passed by in a car, but it was always so unimaginable and just a passing image that I looked at with pity without being able to do anything about it. Over the years I have followed NGOs such as tierraviva.org on social media and cheered from afar when a few communities regained access to part of their lands during the past few years (such as Sawhoyamaxa and Xámok Kásek) after staging road closures. The territory of the Enxet Sur consists largely of large-scale cattle ranches, resulting in relatively little opportunity for labour in the market economy. With the support of NGOs, the Enxet Sur have become aware of their rights (which do exist in the constitution) and have organized themselves more successfully to fight for their ancestral land claims. 

Growing up I often keenly felt the injustices I saw with regards to indigenous people, but I didn't really have words or even a real frame of reference to articulate what I felt. There was this immense chasm between "us" and "them", economically, culturally, linguistically. My only interaction with indigenous people was with day labourers that stopped by to ask for yard work or food. I grew up with the dominant narrative of my (Mennonite) community, which goes something like this: "we've been migrating for centuries trying to find a place where we can live in peace and practice our faith and culture freely (which prominently includes a German school education and exemption from the military). We lost everything in Russia, migrated to Canada, but had to leave Canada again because of broken promises by the government and under much sacrifice and suffering we have created such a rich agricultural region in this 'Green Hell' called the Chaco. Among other things, God has sent us here to bring the gospel to the indigenous peoples. We were victims of the Russian revolution, broken promises, and a misleading settlement project that promised us great lands and brought us to this inhospitable wilderness." While I don't deny the hardships of the Mennonite pioneers in the Chaco, there are so many more layers to the narrative, so many more perspectives on the history: firstly the dispossession and exploitation of the indigenous peoples through the colonization process of the Chaco, the personal narratives of indigenous people recounting their history, their experiences, their trauma, which is largely excluded from any public discourse. Secondly, the Paraguayan government's absence with regards to any land/territory questions for indigenous communities (or any other social supports), thirdly the hope of an American banker to make a healthy profit from the Mennonite colonization project (which financially didn't work out for him in the end). There are probably other angles and other narratives that could be looked at. 

Racism is part of everyday life in the Chaco, although most people I talk to either deny it or try to justify it. Part of the Mennonite narrative is the emphasis on a 'peaceful coexistence' between the cultures, whereas reality seems to resemble more a kind of system of Apartheid, where the white and the indigenous communities live quite separately, and many of the indigenous settlements are utilized as cheap labour camps. Having been baptized in the Mennonite faith does not give indigenous people the same status and access to schools, hospitals or co-op memberships as the white Mennonites. 

One really interesting aspect for me throughout some of the academic, anthropological and ethnographic readings is the portrayal of the sharing culture of the Enxet. The narrative I grew up perpetuates that the indigenous people are lazy; they don't work more than is needed for the next meal; they don't save for the future to better their living conditions; they always give away what we have given them (such as a blanket), etc. I always thought it sounded rather like good Christian practices, but it was not looked at as such. Seymour Hawtrey describes the sharing economy as "the principles of socialism, which are so deeply instilled in the minds of these Indians. (...) The Lengua natives (Enxet) rule their lives almost exclusively by public opinion. (...) A chief would find out, by listening to conversation, the wishes of the majority, and then carry out the matter through as if it was entirely his own idea. (...) It is difficult to get an Indian to compete against others for a prize which is to be received only by one. Those who loose feel hurt because they lose, and he who wins feels grieved because the others are hurt." (Hawtrey, "The Lengua Indians of the Paraguayan Chaco." The Journal of Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, Vol. 31, [Jan. - Jun., 1901], p. 292). From his tone, I gather Hawtrey does not look favourably on these principles of socialism. I've come across similar observations by Barbrooke Grubb, which are fittingly summed up by Morgan Crago in the following excerpt: "In his Geographical Society presentation, Grubb described some indigenous cultural practices, such as the custom of always sharing food with strangers (and community members) with a focus on the deficiency of these practices. Grubb remarked that while 'many of the Indians would be fairly hard workers,' the requirement of hospitality prevented wealth accumulation. Any person who acquired more material goods would necessarily end up supporting a large number of poorer relatives ('loafers') because the people lacked 'the moral courage' to argue that 'if a man will not work neither shall he eat.' Their practices of destroying a dead person's goods and vacating settlements where death had occurred had similar effects. While recognizing that the system led to 'equality and justice' with all at 'a common level,' Grubb thought the custom was ultimately a 'cancer that eats of the root of the industrious life of the people.' To remedy this social lack, he thought 'new wants must be created, and when such become necessaries of life, the people will work to get them, and the habit of industry will grow.' (Crago, Morgan. "W. Barbrooke Grubb - Missionary Explorer and Anglican Layman." Boston University. 2020 p.6) This sharing economy which leads to equality within a community does not fit into the capitalist market economy of settlers and governments, and the indigenous people are blamed for their own poverty (without taking into consideration the lack of access to resources and land). Rather than simply dismissing this different philosophy of life, which allows time for leisure and a certain kind of contentment with less, I believe there is much that should be valued about it, supported and learned from.

I thoroughly enjoy reading books and articles that open up new perspectives for me, that allow me to see the world I grew up in differently and that validate that sense of unease and unresolved conflict I experienced. Now I know that unease had to do with the narrative, the history, and the long-term effects of colonization. I so wish that the teaching of multiple perspectives on history would become part of the school's curriculum, but I suspect that won't happen any time soon. I hope that perhaps my prints and my art might give viewers an impetus to reflect and to perceive power imbalances, the purpose and voice of history narratives, and a contribution to a dialogue on decolonizing minds.

Really great resources to read about the Enxet Sur are among others: 

Correia, Joel E. "Reworking recognition: Indigeneity, land rights, and the dialectics of disruption in Paraguay's Chaco." Geoforum Vol 119, February 2021

Kidd, Stephen William. Love and Hate Amond the People without Things: The Social and Economic Relations of the Enxet People of Paraguay. University of Saint Andrews, 2000

There are great publications about and with voices from the Enlhet Norte by Hannes Kalisch. 

Brainstorming

After weeks of reading, I've started to gather key ideas and key words in mind maps. I tend to get overwhelmed with all the information I receive and I need to get to the essence of the content. I need to organize my thoughts and start to sift through the words to see how I can translate them into images that carry meaning. Some artists make sketches as preparation work; I usually start with text, words, and mind maps. The mind maps are a quick an organic way for me to highlight key ideas and establish connections. I can also add to them at any point as new ideas and connections emerge.  

Connections?

I'm hoping to come at this project from some kind of personal angle or connection, possibly from the land/territory question or colonist/indigenous relations. I'm wondering if Wilfred Barbrooke Grubb played any role in the Mennonite migration to the Chaco. During the early stage of research I came across information that Barbrooke Grubb spoke at two conferences in New York in 1900. It appears that "Grubb continued promoting European and North American Immigration for ranching in his speeches at the New York missions conference. [...] Grubb described how he and his coworkers were 'opening up' the Chaco area.[...] Grubb advocated an influx of Christian business people (...) as well as the development of cattle ranching in which local people were employed as ranch hands." (1) In a later publication, he repeated the same sentiment: "What the Chaco needs is not the establishment of great companies, but a great number of smaller settlers, and this can only be made possible if the Government facilitates men of small capital being able to secure land...". (2) Was there some connection between Grubb's speeches in New York or publications and the Mennonites ending up in the Chaco? Interestingly, a New York banker (Samuel McRoberts) and a realtor (Fred Engen) helped the Mennonites secure land in the Chaco after initial meetings with a Mennonite delegation in New York in 1919. (3) There is an almost 20 year gap from the time Grubb gave his speeches to the delegation meeting, so perhaps my question is too far fetched, or perhaps it is impossible to find out if there was some connection or groundwork he might have laid. However, Barbrooke Grubb also maintained cordial relations with the Paraguayan government, so it is plausible that he would have put forward proposals for settlement of the Chaco there. Perhaps there might be records in some Paraguayan archive? Maybe Manuel Gondra is the key: he was president of Paraguay from 1910-1911 and again from 1920-1921, both times when Barbrooke Grubb was in Paraguay. Gondra was also the Paraguayan minister (ambassador?) in Washington just prior to 1920, with whom McRoberts had connections. (4) Even though I don't have any direct evidence of communications regarding the settlement of the Chaco between all these figures, I am convinced that there must have been at the very least some ideological connection. I'm not sure how far I want to go with my research to find definite proof of a connection, since it is not entirely essential to the content of the project, but for myself this would be an interesting more direct connection to my own history and the 'opening up' of the Chaco that led to the Mennonite settlement. 

(1) Crago, Morgan. "W. Barbrooke Grubb - Missionary Explorer and Anglican Layman." www.bu.edu/missiology/w-barbrooke-grubb/

(2) Barbrooke Grubb, Wilfrid. "The Paraguayan Chaco and Its Possible Future," The Geographical Journal 54, no. 3 (1919): 159

(3) https://www.plettfoundation.org/articles/general-samuel-mcroberts-photos-of-mennonites-in-paraguay-1926-1929/

(4) ibid

I - The Artist

Colonization by Cattle. Intaglio. 130cmx650cm. 2016.

I am an artist based in Winnipeg, Canada, but I was born and raised in Paraguay. My art is closely linked to who I am and where I'm from. In part of my art practice I try to process complicated social, economic, and political issues in the Paraguayan Chaco, where I spent the first 19 years of my life. I acknowledge that I lived on Enlhet (North) territory and I attempt to represent my thoughts and ideas from a place of empathy and humility, the knowledge that I and my people have wronged the Enlhet, and an awareness that I don't know enough about the culture, the history and the experiences of the peoples we dispossessed.

I grew up in a Mennonite settler community in the Menno Colony. My maternal great-grandparents migrated to the Paraguayan Chaco in 1927 from Manitoba, Canada. Growing up, the general Mennonite history narrative was always (and continues to be) something like this: "there was nothing here but wilderness. We made something of this land. The Indians welcomed us and helped us with the farming. God sent us here to evangelize the Indians. They came to us because they were starving and we helped them. We coexist peacefully to this day." I never thought much about the point of view of narrative until I moved to Canada. I audited a Canadian history class at the University of Manitoba out of interest and our textbook presented three different points of view on history: the dominant and widely accepted eurocentric history, and the history from the point of view of indigenous people and women. Of course the narratives of certain events looked quite different depending on the perspective of the narrator. This course was such an eye opener and I have sought out first person narratives by indigenous people in the Chaco and more objective writing about indigenous people since. Those narratives paint a very different picture of my history and it humbles me I didn't know more about it sooner. (It ought to be taught in schools!).

I have always keenly felt the tensions of injustice that surrounded me growing up, the wealth of the Mennonites and the abject poverty of the indigenous population, as well as the complete separation of the white and indigenous communities. I also had a general awareness of a constant underlying racism, but I never quite knew how to deal with it or how to address it, since interactions with indigenous people were limited for a white teenage girl. I am grateful that Dad taught me to think critically. We had somewhat of an outsider's perspective on life in the Chaco. He was a teacher from Germany at the local high school and he was catholic, which always "othered" us in the Mennonite community. He was incredibly smart, curious, sensitive, open, friendly and generous and he treated indigenous people differently form anyone I knew, which I'm sure has shaped me. I think much of what I witnessed I only began to understand after I left home. I'm not an activist or otherwise an influential person; I don't believe I have much power to change the world from my studio, but I'm changing my own way of thinking through reading, learning, exploring, processing, and creating, and I'm sharing my experiences, my story, my observations as part of a greater conversation about social justice, racism, and colonialism. I believe support, empathy, a desire for change, political interest and engagement must come from all sectors of society, from indigenous peoples, academics, artists, students, etc., to form an alliance. (1)

I'm extremely excited to have been invited to be part of this artist residency with the British Museum, but I also constantly question whether I'm the right person to do this and how I can do this project justice. I come from white privilege and my world view is shaped by eurocentrism, but I also come from a standpoint of wanting to learn, wanting to understand, wanting to get to know more about indigenous culture, indigenous thinking, indigenous narrative, the indigenous point of view of history, and this artist residency offers me just that opportunity: to read, to broaden my horizon, to reflect, to question in what ways we might be complicit in the narratives we perpetuate, and perhaps contribute in a small way to a conversation about possible change. 

(1) Schmidt, Elmar. "Ambiente, ecología y sustentabilidad: imaginarios latinoamericanos en la literature, el arte y el cine." Omland, Clara (Ed.): La sostenibilidad en Latinoamérica. Hacia un buen vivir desde una perspectiva interdisciplinaria, Lima: Ed. San Marcos 2013, pp. 113-146. 

The Collector - Wilfrid Barbrooke Grubb

How do I describe this man - Wilfrid Barbrooke Grubb, who lived over one hundred years ago, who travelled, lived and worked in a part of South America that would later become the home of my people (and me, of course), who was celebrated by his contemporaries as one of the foremost missionaries and explorers of his time, but who, through my eyes and the lens of the 21 century has caused much harm for spreading and imposing his (supremacist, arrogant, self-righteous, Eurocentric) world view to a foreign culture at a time when it was perceived to be so admirable to do so. How do I tackle the history of colonialism? Do I condemn everything he did or do I see him as a 'child of his time'? What about the people he changed forever, the Enxet of the Southern Chaco? (More about the Enxet in a separate post). How does decolonization work? How do I need to look at this history with decolonization in mind? I'll use this blog post to share some of the texts I've read and to process their contents with a personal commentary. This post is not intended to be a formal analysis. 

I heard the name Wilfrid Barbrooke Grubb for the first time when Laura from the SDCELAR called me over skype to introduce the artist residency to me. "No, I didn't know of him." When I shared the good news about having been offered such an exciting artist residency with my mom (who still lives in the Chaco), she knew of Barbrooke Grubb, the Anglican missionary in the South, and immediately found some books about him on Dad's bookshelves. I miss not having access to Dad's extensive library about everything related to the history in the Chaco, or his equally extensive knowledge. Dad passed away in 2014 and I so miss not being able to I talk to him about everything related to this project. I chat with two of my uncles who also live in Winnipeg. Both know of Barbrooke Grubb and one has a photocopy of a book about Grubb (from my Dad, it seems), but we're in a complete lockdown and he lives in a care home, so no chance of getting in there any time soon. Uncle Wilhelm used to work as a Mennonite missionary among the Northern Enlhet, until he was let go by the church for being to open minded or sympathetic about the indigenous culture. He still often speaks about his work in Paraguay and after 30 years in Canada he is still quite fluent in Enlhet. I need to pick his brain some more. 

My initial search online doesn't result in too much information about Barbrooke Grubb, but I decide to order a book written by him called An Unknown People in an Unknown Land; I believe it is a third edition from 1925. Two pages into the introduction by editor H. T Morrey Jones I already feel great discomfort at the language being used to introduce "the full account here given of primitive life and customs, Indian mythology, superstitions, and witchcraft, with all their attendant barbarities, (which) will convey some idea of the difficulties encountered in the attempt to form such a people into a civilized community and a Christian church" (Barbrooke Grubb viii). He adds that "(t)he opening up of a large and practically unknown country, which has been an indirect result of the Mission, will seem important to those who watch with serious interest the gradual reclamation of the earth's waste places." This last sentence strikes me, since I've previously been greatly interested in the colonial settler view that a place was empty, or needed taming and made productive, all notions speaking to a colonial world view. Reading on, the book reads more like an outdated adventure novel: "At night on the Chaco bank (of the Paraguay river) may be seen the half-naked forms of Indians as they move to and fro in the flickering light of their camp-fires which but dimly illuminate their rude shelters, standing in a clearing in the dark forest which forms a background. The painted faces and plumed heads of these savages enhance the weirdness of the scene. The sounds which greet the ear are equally barbarous. A low droning chant may be heard accompanied by the rattle of gourds, and broken only too often by a shrill cry of pain when a child, perhaps, has been cruelly murdered, and the women's voices are raised in lamentation." (Grubb 17). While Barbrooke Grubb realizes soon after meeting "the Indians" that many of the rumours he's heard and his preconceptions are false, the tone of his narrative remains uncomfortably cringeworthy to my ears, as he continues that "the best (attitude) to adopt in dealing with such a people (was) to assume at all times and under all circumstances superiority and authority, for Indians only respect the strong...On arriving at a village, I insisted, as far as possible, upon all the people ministering to my personal comfort. I ordered one to prepare my resting-place, another to make a fire, a third to bring me water, and another to pull of my knee-boots. When the heat was great or the flies troublesome, I made two sit by me with fans. When on foot, and having to cross a swampy patch, I made one of them carry me across - in fact, I avoided doing anything myself that I could persuade them to do for me" (Grubb 27 & 28). At the time of writing the book, Barbrooke Grubb was aware of how he was perceived by the indigenous hosts: "I afterwards learnt from the Indians that my high-handed behaviour, which, if shown by one of their own people, not only would have been considered insufferably rude, but would have been strongly resented, had filled them with surprise (...). Instead of threatening a native, I took it for granted that he would obey me" (Grubb 33 & 34). (I am interested in the subtext of this narrative, which implies resistance from the indigenous point of view.) I could go on, but these text samples are sufficient of an example of the tone of the book. I later realize that the book has been heavily edited by Morrey Jones to create more appeal to the readership since the South American Missionary Society relied on generating its own funding of its projects abroad, so the narrative appears to have been embellished, "to entertain, promote, and inspire" (Crago 4). I feel quite unsettled by Barbrook Grubb's narrative - the attitude and tone bother me a lot. I feel an anger and a helplessness inside as I read and it keeps turning in my head for days. How do we look at figures of the past that used to be venerated for their actions, but today appear so problematic through the change of awareness about the harm their actions have caused? I find this self-celebratory first person narrative quite tiring to read (knowing that it was written as promotional material of the missionary's work doesn't help much) and I need to find some more objective information about Barbrooke Grubb. Who was he? What motivated him to go to Paraguay? Adventure stories aside, how did he view the Enxet? 

I have read two interesting articles about Barbrooke Grubb written by Morgan Crago from Boston University. "W. Barbrooke Grubb - Missionary Explorer and Anglican Layman" gives a concise biographical overview  and critique of Barbrooke Grubb's life and work in Paraguay. The second article, "The Evangelism or Social Action Question - A View from Late 19th Century Paraguay" analysis the work of the missionary with Barbrooke Grubb serving as a case study about the purpose of mission work. For more details I recommend you follow the links to read the articles. I'll just briefly summarize some biographical information here to serve as a framework to place Barbrooke Grubb in time and history.

Who was he? A brief biography. Wilfrid Barbrooke Grubb (1865-1930) was born near Edinburgh in Scotland. In 1884, when he was nineteen years old, he applied to work for the South American Missionary Society (SAMS). When he was about twenty-one years old, the Society sent him to a mission base in the Falkland Islands to serve as lay catechist. In 1889, the SAMS sent Barbrooke Grubb to Paraguay to follow up on some early mission work started by other SAMS members. He was twenty-three when he arrived in Paraguay. Barbrooke Grubb spent years traversing parts of the Paraguayan Chaco, exploring the land, establishing contacts with indigenous groups in the Chaco and at times helping government surveyors. He maintained "cordial connections with the Paraguayan government, who (...) named him 'Pacificator of the Indians.'" He started several mission stations in the Enxet territory, with the main station being Makthlawaiya. 

I can't find much information about Barbrooke Grubb "The Collector". There is chapter VII in An Unknown People in an Unknown Land that describes indigenous artefacts in a fair amount of detail regarding the materials and their purpose. I find this chapter very interesting to read, since it helps me make sense of many of the objects in the Museum's collection. However, it does not answer my question as to how the objects were obtained. Were they gifts or were they traded for? What was traded? What were they valued at by their creators? What was Barbrooke Grubb's connection to the British Museum, i.e. how did the artefacts end up with the British Museum? Did he collect them out of an anthropological interest, to show them at home as exotic souvenirs or as gifts to friends, to preserve a dying culture for posterity? What was the intention of the collection? What is the purpose or function of the collection today?

Barbrooke Grubb was not a collector in the first place, so how did he see his role as missionary? I base much of my information here on Morgan Crago's analysis of "Uncovering the 'real' Barbrooke Grubb" where she already has sifted through missionary literature to establish a picture. Again, I am interested in the point of view of narrative, this time that of a critical scholar, who analyses the narrative established by an organization, the SAMS, about its own work. Barbrooke Grubb saw himself as protector of "the Indians." He "believed that the onset of Western civilization in South America was inescapable, and that it was the missionary's task to make sure this inevitable process unfolded morally, peacefully, and (as he believed) fairly (Crago 5). As part of this transition he saw it not only necessary to convert the people to Christianity, but to convert their life styles as well - the native peoples would have to settle in villages and adopt a sedentary lifestyle. "He thought it equally important to 'civilize' the people so they could 'profitably occupy and develop [their] native land" (Crago 5). To prevent the possible extermination of indigenous populations by governments, "he thought the missionary's appropriate task was to re-shape the indigenous people into populations attractive to the state" (Crago 6), meaning to train them to become willing workers so they could "take their proper place in this world" (SAMS 24, 87). Crago observes, that "in a Magazine article of 1908, (Grubb) described how the mission was encouraging indigenous women to have several children", which appears to underly the purpose of establishing "a numerous, trained and willing population of workers, with whom to develop the lands" (SAMS 42, 167). "If Europeans would come in to raise cattle (the best industry suited to this region [...]), indigenous people could be hired as laborers. [...] Grubb continued promoting European and North American immigration for ranching." (Crago 7). Barbrooke Grubb believed that parts of South America were suitable for European settlement, but much of the continent was "so situated climatically that only races adapted to the tropics can ever satisfactorily form the laboring class necessary for the development of these potentially rich regions" (Grubb, "The Paraguayan Chaco and Its Possible Future," 167). In short, Barbrooke Grubb saw his role in preparing the Enxet for the arrival of European settlers, so that the encounter of the two cultures may be peaceful (for the Europeans) and that the indigenous people would be 'civilized' labourers for the newcomers. Clearly, Barbrooke Grubb's mission was entirely shaped by a capitalist point of departure. In his mind he saw himself as friend and benefactor of the indigenous people. In the eye of his (European) contemporaries, he was a hero. He believed he was preparing the Enxet for an inevitable future and preventing much harm from being done at the hands of others (government and entrepreneurs). However, I cannot find evidence that Barbrooke Grubb was truly interested in understanding their culture to find value in it. He came with the purpose to change, taking on the roll of explorer, missionary, and developer, and he did so in a very paternalistic way. Even today I notice that most people I know (and many organizations) are stuck in the "paradigm that views Indigenous Peoples as the object of protection rather than the subjects of rights" (Indigenous World 2020: Paraguay, May 11, 2020). Is it sufficient today to say that Barbrooke Grubb's intentions were generally well meaning (and perhaps the situation of the Enxet would have been considerably worst if someone else had come along), or do we need to categorically condemn a mindset that is so deeply situated within colonialism itself? 

I think I need to stop writing here. I feel frustration and helplessness at so much misguided world changing "do-gooder" attitude, especially since not much has changed in the settler attitudes of today in the Chaco. I could go on and on attempting to get to know Barbrooke Grubb better, but I feel I'm getting tangled in writing rather than focusing on the art response. I also think, as an artist my written response to these readings is quite emotional rather than purely rational, but I'm ok with that. I'm also spending too much time trying to get a picture of one European man, rather than getting to know the Enxet better.

Other interesting text sources I have read over the course of the past few weeks that talk about Barbrooke Grubb and/or the Enxet are by Alejandro Martínez (interesting observations about subtext in Eurocentric narratives that imply resistence), Dr. Stephen Kidd, and Dr. Walter Regehr. Primary sources I read are the South American Missionary Society Magazine, available in online archives. Barbrooke Grubb published articles regularly there.

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Update: February 23, 2021

Re: purchase of collection items. 

In the documents provided by the research team is a letter from Seymour Hawtrey which states that he purchased certain objects - a weapon, a feather manta (cape), and a dozen feather ornaments - from the Chamacoco. He writes that "the actual cost to me was $250 Paraguayan paper - or about £4.0.0 at Bahia Negra on the Alto Paraguay. (...) If you care to have them at £5.0.0 (?), after instruction, I will forward them to you." I'm not quite sure if he is asking £5 since there is an ink stain on the number. In today's money value, he would have paid about £500 for the objects, if I interpret all the sums correctly. This partially answers my question about whether the objects were purchased, traded for, or given as gifts, but obviously this letter refers only to a few objects in the collection. 

Image Credit: Trustees of the British Museum. 

  

The Collection

The thing I was most curious about after agreeing to the project was to see the collection, albeit in digital photo form rather than in person. I had to wait for months and months before the research team in London was able to access the collection to photograph it, since the museum was locked down because of Covid-19 and summer turned into fall. In late November 2020 I finally received the dropbox folder containing the "boxes" with the collection items. I opened the "boxes" one by one and I see feather decorations, shell and seed necklaces, pipe heads, clay vessels, decorated gourds, leather clothing and much more. 

Box 12 Screenshot.

Some objects I can't identify, but later I find that many are described in Barbrooke Grubb's book An Unknown People in an Unknown Land. My first response is that I've seen similar objects in museums in Paraguay and in books and I experience a sense of familiarity. The objects are visually not entirely foreign to me. However, the culture they belong to or used to belong to is entirely foreign to me, even if similar objects are still used today by some indigenous groups in the Chaco where I grew up. How do I respond to something that is not mine, something I have no real personal connection with? How would I respond if I saw the objects in a museum? What if these objects were on display at the British Museum in an international context? What does it do to the objects to be taken from their original living context of being used in daily life, to be collected, boxed up, stored for decades? I feel a little uncomfortable with the task of the project at hand, but I want to take this opportunity and the challenge to continue to learn more about the peoples that I grew up to next to, their history, their reality (which is not usually portrayed in history books) on whose ancestral land I grew up in, and on all our shared colonial heritage. I am relieved that part of the response to the collection will come from indigenous artists themselves. 

Box 25 Screenshot.

The Project

I have received a Carte Blanche invitation to respond to the Paraguay collection at the British Museum. The objects in the collection are a starting point for the project, but they don't necessarily need to be part of the project. The objects are artefacts from the indigenous Enxet from the Southern Chaco region. They were collected mostly by anglican missionary Wilfrid Barbrooke Grubb (also Seymour Hawtrey) over the course of 30-40 years at the turn of the 20th century. I will write more about Barbrooke Grubb in a separate post. Which direction will my artist response take? It could be about the representation of the territory, or the context of the collection. Do I want to respond to museum practices and their role in colonialism? Perhaps the colonial practice of collecting leading to the displacement of the objects, similar to the displacement of people (a topic I've worked with before)? What is the connection between missionaries and colonial expansion? What part does the presence of missionaries play in the justification of land appropriation? Will I respond to reading materials and narrative? I'm interested in representation of narrative. Most articles and texts I've read are written from a euro-centric point of view, that of the missionary, the settler, the scientist. With great interest I've also read some first person narratives of indigenous voices who portray a very different (and eyeopening) narrative of certain events. Will I be able to offer a new perspective of some sort or find some positive points of resistance or conciliation through my work? I'm not sure yet where this project will take me or what I will end up creating, but I am curious to learn and explore as I reflect on difficult questions about my own colonial family history and indigenous/settler relations. 

Introduction

Photo: Trustees of the British Museum. 

Early last year I received an invitation to do an artist residency at the British Museum in London to engage and respond to the Paraguay collection in the vaults, which will likely never see the light of day. To be more specific, I was invited by the Santo Domingo Centre of Excellence in Latin American Research (from here on referred to as SDCELAR), based at the British Museum. The SDCELAR aims to create public engagement with the Latin American collections through artist responses and publications. One of the researchers had seen some of my work about disPOSSESSION in Asunción, which was the starting point for contact. I am very happy that indigenous artists from the Chaco collective will also be part of this project. Since the early invitation, our plans and the timeline have changed several times due to Covid-19. Long story short, rather than travelling to London last fall to see the collection and create art, I'm working from my home in Winnipeg/Canada over a longer period of time to respond to photographs of the objects in the collection and reading materials. While my experience of the collection obviously won't be same as viewing it in situ, I must admit that this current iteration of the project - working from home and having more time - suits me quite well, since I am a new mom and I split my time between the studio and being with little M., who is 13 months now. I will be able to reflect with greater depth on what this collection means in the context of its history and its existence today. Over the next few months, I'll share my thoughts and reflections about my research and creative process here on this blog as a form of project diary.