Proyecto Aliyá, Yeridá
Aliyá y yeridá son dos palabras hebreas que sintetizan dos pilares fundamentales de la construcción identitaria del judaísmo y del sionismo: la nostalgia por la tierra prometida y el regreso a ella como una utopía sostenida a través de los siglos. Aliyá significa ascenso y yeridá descenso, pero históricamente se han usado para nombrar la inmigración a la tierra de Israel y la emigración o diáspora desde ella, respectivamente. A pesar de su vuelo metafórico, ellas tienen un correlato bastante concreto. Desde 1948, la aliyá refiere a la política del moderno Estado de Israel de atraer a los judíos del mundo para poblar su territorio o, más bien, los territorios que progresivamente ha conquistado en Palestina.
Aliyá, yeridá es el título de esta exhibición en la que Rafael Guendelman nos muestra algunos trabajos que forman parte de una investigación de largo aliento que tiene como punto de partida el archivo y la memoria de la familia paterna de Rafael. Ellos emigraron juntos de Chile a Israel en 1970 y terminaron volviendo por separado entre 1972 y 1992. Todo este proceso quedó documentado en cuadernos, fotografías, diapositivas y películas en formato Super 8. Esta documentación es la que emerge en esta obra, combinada con otros materiales fotográficos, audiovisuales y sonoros captados por el propio Rafael en Chile, Israel y los territorios ocupados de Palestina.
En esta ocasión nos encontramos con dos formas de organizar estos materiales: un libro de artista y un par de piezas audiovisuales. En el libro se cruzan el heterogéneo archivo fotográfico antes descrito con las frases del cuaderno que la abuela de Rafael utilizaba para aprender hebreo en Israel. La regla de estos cruces no se nos declara, pero parece que estamos ante una exploración de las posibles relaciones entre la palabra y la imagen en el espacio de la memoria: literales, metafóricas, irónicas, contradictorias e indiferentes, entre otras.
Las piezas audiovisuales operan de una manera similar, pues construyen sus relatos yuxtaponiendo archivos heterogéneos, pero acá nos encontramos con una pluralidad de estrategias visuales y narrativas. Estamos ante una serie de ensayos audiovisuales que por sus materiales y estilos nos hacen transitar entre géneros que ya conocemos (documental, reportaje, videoclip) y otras elaboraciones más abstractas. Ellas funcionan de un modo similar a los diversos modos en que los recuerdos se archivan en nuestra memoria: mientras algunos están precisamente organizados en relatos, otros son una confusa acumulación de sensaciones, palabras o colores.
Varias líneas de investigación que Rafael ha desarrollado durante la última década se cruzan en estos trabajos: el conflicto palestino-israelí, el modo en que este puede mirarse desde Chile, las migraciones
y la construcción de la identidad y la memoria. Este último, tal vez, es el que emerge con mayor radicalidad. En los materiales articulados o yuxtapuestos se asoman preguntas relativamente incómodas para memorias colectivas de diferente índole, como el rol de las migraciones y colonizaciones que han conformado a estados como Chile e Israel o bien el modo en que se recuerdan sucesos traumáticos, como el ascenso y caída de la Unidad Popular, la Guerra del Líbano o el terrorismo de Estado. Se trata de preguntas comprometedoras pero del todo necesarias. Aquí y allá parecen fortalecerse discursos xenófobos cuyos relatos omiten ciertas migraciones para negar o justificar otras. Como sea, en todos los casos se invisibilizan las borraduras e invenciones que caracterizan la construcción de la memoria, en general, y la del Estado-nación, en particular.
Texto: Claudio Guerrero.
Project Aliyá, Yeridá
Aliyá and yeridá are two Hebrew words
that synthesize two fundamental pillars of Judaism and Zionism’s identity
construction: nostalgia for the promised land, and the return to it as a utopia
that has been sustained over centuries. Aliyá means ascent and yeridámeans descent, but historically, these words have been used to refer to
immigration to the land of Israel and emigration or diaspora from it,
respectively. Despite their metaphoric flight, the words have a quite concrete correlation.
Since 1948, aliyá has referred to the modern State of Israel’s policy
of attracting Jews from around the world to come and populate its territory, or
rather, the territories that it has progressively seized in Palestine.
Aliyá, yeridáis the title of this exhibition, in which Rafael Guendelman presents works that form part of a long-term investigation that begins with the archive and memory of Rafael’s paternal family. They emigrated together from Chile to Israel in 1970 and ended up returning separately between 1972 and 1992. The entire process was documented in notebooks, photographs, slides, and Super 8 mm film. This documentation is what comes forth in this piece, combined with other photographic, audiovisual, and sound footage captured by Rafael himself in Chile, Israel, and the occupied Palestinian territories.
On this occasion, we can observe two ways of organizing these materials: an artist’s book and a couple of audiovisual pieces. The book contains a cross between the heterogeneous aforementioned photographic archive and phrases from a notebook that Rafael’s grandmother used to learn Hebrew in Israel. The rule for this crossing isn’t stated outright, but it appears that we are standing before an exploration of the possible relationships that can exist between words and images in the space of memory: literal, metaphoric, ironic, contradictory, and indifferent, amongst others.
The audiovisual pieces operate in a similar manner, constructing their narratives by juxtaposing heterogeneous archives. But here, we are faced with a plurality of visual and narrative strategies. We are standing before a series of audiovisual essays that, due to their materials and styles, make us transit among genres that we already know (documentary, report, videoclip) and other more abstract elaborations. These work in a way that is similar to the diverse modes in which recollections are archived in our memory: whilst some of them are precisely organized in narratives, others are a fuzzy accumulation of sensations, words, or colors.
Several lines of research that Rafael has developed over the last decade come together in these pieces: the Palestine-Israel conflict, the way in which it can be regarded from Chile, migrations, and the construction of identity and memory. This final investigation line is perhaps the one that emerges most radically. The articulated or juxtaposed materials also contain questions that are relatively uncomfortable to collective memories of a different nature, such as the role of the migrations and colonizations that have created states such as Chile and Israel, or rather, the way in which traumatic events are remembered, such as the rise and fall of the Unidad Popular in Chile, the Lebanese War, or state terrorism. These questions are compromising, yet completely necessary. Here and there, they seem to strengthen xenophobic discourses whose narratives omit certain migrations in order to deny or justify others. Either way, in every case the erasures and inventions that characterize the construction of memory, in general, and that of the nation state, in particular, are made invisible.
Aliyá, yeridáis the title of this exhibition, in which Rafael Guendelman presents works that form part of a long-term investigation that begins with the archive and memory of Rafael’s paternal family. They emigrated together from Chile to Israel in 1970 and ended up returning separately between 1972 and 1992. The entire process was documented in notebooks, photographs, slides, and Super 8 mm film. This documentation is what comes forth in this piece, combined with other photographic, audiovisual, and sound footage captured by Rafael himself in Chile, Israel, and the occupied Palestinian territories.
On this occasion, we can observe two ways of organizing these materials: an artist’s book and a couple of audiovisual pieces. The book contains a cross between the heterogeneous aforementioned photographic archive and phrases from a notebook that Rafael’s grandmother used to learn Hebrew in Israel. The rule for this crossing isn’t stated outright, but it appears that we are standing before an exploration of the possible relationships that can exist between words and images in the space of memory: literal, metaphoric, ironic, contradictory, and indifferent, amongst others.
The audiovisual pieces operate in a similar manner, constructing their narratives by juxtaposing heterogeneous archives. But here, we are faced with a plurality of visual and narrative strategies. We are standing before a series of audiovisual essays that, due to their materials and styles, make us transit among genres that we already know (documentary, report, videoclip) and other more abstract elaborations. These work in a way that is similar to the diverse modes in which recollections are archived in our memory: whilst some of them are precisely organized in narratives, others are a fuzzy accumulation of sensations, words, or colors.
Several lines of research that Rafael has developed over the last decade come together in these pieces: the Palestine-Israel conflict, the way in which it can be regarded from Chile, migrations, and the construction of identity and memory. This final investigation line is perhaps the one that emerges most radically. The articulated or juxtaposed materials also contain questions that are relatively uncomfortable to collective memories of a different nature, such as the role of the migrations and colonizations that have created states such as Chile and Israel, or rather, the way in which traumatic events are remembered, such as the rise and fall of the Unidad Popular in Chile, the Lebanese War, or state terrorism. These questions are compromising, yet completely necessary. Here and there, they seem to strengthen xenophobic discourses whose narratives omit certain migrations in order to deny or justify others. Either way, in every case the erasures and inventions that characterize the construction of memory, in general, and that of the nation state, in particular, are made invisible.