Soñar con el Templo

Wilmer Aburto

Interview by L. Valena

July 5, 2022

Can you start by describing the prompt that you responded to?

The piece that I received is called 'Wonder'. There is a gorgeous, majestic presence of a temple that's centered in the piece. It's surrounded by this intricate pattern -- triangles in different bright colors, and almost a shadow of the same pattern continuing in the lower portion, where the temple sits.

What was your first reaction to that?

I was immediately attracted to the presence of the temple. It feels majestic, and I felt curious about the origins, and the source of inspiration. Where did this come from? It also has these rich hues of gold. I knew that I wanted to create a visual response that was an homage to the temple, and whatever other elements I would bring to it would be to celebrate the temple. At the same time, I wanted to honor the original piece, keep the process feeling collaborative. I love the concept of Bait/Switch, this invitation to collaborate. In similar experiences that I've had in the past, I knew more about the artist beforehand. Receiving this beautiful piece of original work without context adds another layer of mystery – it truly makes it about the art.

I think it can be really a challenging aspect of this project for contributors -- when you go to a gallery, you can read something about what the artist had in mind when they did it. In this case, it becomes way more about your feelings about whatever you're responding to and making art about that.

In so many of the platforms we have for looking at art right now, we have that immediate accessibility and can find out more about the artist right away. In this way, I connected to the piece. It invited a lot of curiosity. What are some of the shared experiences that I might have with this artist? I’m from Nicaragua, and the connection with my own ancestry was an immediate inspiration trigger. It made me feel curious about the process, how was this work selected? Are these selected randomly? So, I just leaned into that curiosity to respond to it.

Truly, it's totally random – I had no idea you were from Nicaragua when I sent you this piece! That’s actually pretty amazing. The prompt chooses the artist.

This is one more reason why I feel like it's so important to trust the process. Art finds its way to what its destiny is, what its mission is, and what it wants to accomplish. I wanted to create a piece that was for me, and I think because of that reason, it's about hope. Imagining a future where we are reclaiming our identities. That's the beautiful thing about art -- it can be a tool to express our voices. It can be a tool to reclaim ancestry, and healing.

I think of this as a healing piece that's connected to ancestry and healing from colonization. It did feel deeply personal for me because of those reasons. In my own practice, with photography as the center medium of what I do, and specifically focusing on portraiture, a lot of my work has revolved around honoring the POC experience and queer narratives. I think this process really allowed me to play, to have fun, and served as a reminder that art can be a tool for social justice.

One of the things that I considered was digital collage. I kept thinking that it would be really cool to revisit some of my previous portraits. Bring it into this idea of having a conversation about the future. It's a connection to that ancestral divinity, while at the same time using photography from my past and imagining what the future could be. Keeping hope at the forefront and bringing it into the present. With these points of inspiration, what can I create? So that's where I enjoyed bringing different elements in.

My creative process is making art that I want to see, seeing visuals that I feel represent me, and that's really what's informed my practice. I create from a space of feeling underrepresented in media, and this is the reason I really jumped into wanting to bring that to the forefront. Creating beautiful portraits that celebrate Queer Divinity, and that celebrate beautiful Black and Brown bodies.

That's gorgeous, and I love that you brought that into this work. I think there is a desire sometimes to take something out of context, something like a beautiful ancient ruin, and say, "Isn't this gorgeous?" What I feel like you're doing here is saying, "This actually belongs in a very particular context, and it's very personal to me." Does that seem right? And if so, is that something you bring to your other work?

I love that dialogue. When I was describing this piece being one of hope, I was really looking at a lineage of history and ancestry. My direct ancestry from Nicaragua is connected to a history of people who have used art as a tool for social change. One example I can think of is a piece called El Güegüense. It was created in the post-Columbian era, and it's a piece that combines music, art, and costumes. When it started, it was performed in the language of the indigenous people, Nahuatl -- it's a mix of Aztec languages.

El Güegüense was performed in the streets as a satire about colonizers. Nicaraguan people created characters that had beautiful, brightly colored costumes made of natural materials. This public performance was a way that they were processing the experience of being colonized by the Spaniards. Fast forward to present time, El Güegüense has become Nicaragua's national folklore dance. So, it went from being something that was performed on the streets, to becoming such an important part of the culture. It's been recognized by UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) as a ‘Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity’.

When I think of my lineage, I have this inspiration from the ancestors to use art to be more visible. Connecting that back to your question: some of the language that we are applying to these beautiful sacred spaces is ruins. When we talk about the experience of robbing people, not only of goods (all the gold and art) but also of lives that have been stolen, to the language that we now use. We look at these spaces as something from the past -- something that's ruined. For me, looking at this piece gives me a sense of hope. I don’t think of it as a ruin, but as a sacred space. A place of celebration and spirituality, and to celebrate our authentic selves.

In my art, it absolutely inspires me to create that vision of the future. In a lot of my work, I want to take photographs of Black and Brown bodies as a celebration. I've self-published three books of my photography. The vision is to depict these portraits as a celebration of how truly iconic and beautiful Black and Brown bodies are. These portraits are each encased in an altar. Very often people ask about the connection between my photography and catholic iconography. For me, it's kind of taking that reference and turning it on its head.

Growing up, I was exposed to a lot of images that had this Eurocentric focus. Existing in this world, especially in the Diaspora living in Canada, I often don't see myself represented. It can leave a lot of room to bring in those visuals. We can all be beautiful. We can all be iconic, and not just look to one standard of beauty. It's a lot about honoring my ancestors, the beauty of POC, and at the same time keeping gratitude for being on this land that belongs to the Indigenous people of Turtle Island. It's important for me, in my work, to continue celebrating those voices that are so often pushed to the background.

Yes! That is such a necessity right now. This moment feels like such an inflection point, where it feels like things could really swing one of two directions. Moving towards the light feels more important than it ever has. That means celebrating all voices, but especially those of folks who haven't historically been getting the spotlight.

I want to thank you so much for pointing out how wrong the word 'ruin' is when talking about something like this incredible temple. I can't believe that I've never considered how dismissive that word is. After hundreds of years of people being driven out of this place, subjected to horrific violence and disease, who am I to call it a 'ruin'? That suggests that it's a ruined place. And on top of that, my European ancestors were the ones who committed these crimes. That's just the wrong word.

I’m grateful we can have this conversation. During this entire process, I connected to this temple in such a deep-rooted way. I had never once thought of it as a ruin. I think that speaks to how strong ancestral divinity is. I think that is how art has a powerful impact. I had this surreal vision, imagining this temple being celebrated. I included seven pearls ascending the temple, representing the seven Central American countries, which share so much beautiful sacred ancestry.

What I was inspired to create was a portrait of the temple itself, and to bring in some of that Catholic iconography. When I moved to Canada, at that time there was only one elementary school that offered ESL classes. That school happened to be in the Catholic system. So, here's this elementary school kid from Nicaragua, who didn't speak English, and my first day of school was on Halloween! I didn't know anything about Halloween. The adults who made these decisions probably thought that it would be an easy introduction, but it was actually quite confusing.

We would attend a cathedral that was attached to the school. As part of that I regularly participated in mass which was in English, and I wouldn't understand the processes. What I leaned towards was the artwork in the cathedral. There were gorgeous stained-glass windows and paintings. I think that in some ways that experience informed a certain aesthetic in my photography. Transforming this imagery to connect it to my ancestors.

Bringing it back to the piece, I think it has the vibe of an altar, and re-imagining what the future could be. I very much see this piece as representing moving away from colonization and keeping this idea of celebrating with altars. In Nicaragua, we have a Catholic holiday on December 7, called La Purísima, the purest. It's an homage to the Virgin Mary. Different families create altars to honor the Virgin, and people from the community sing songs to the Virgin Mary and receive presents and sweets from the host families. On December 7th, you will see multiple altars on the same street. Some of these altars are breathtaking – the elaborate and ornate altars are a show of devotion and gratitude to the Virgin Mary.

Do you have any advice for another artist approaching this project for the first time?

In my experience of going into this, what inspired me was to really have fun with it. I loved the idea of imagining this gorgeous temple, where there are all these gorgeous Black and Brown bodies being celebrated, and they're adorned with beautiful jewelry, pearls, and flowers. Really, it's an invitation to play. Enjoy the process and have fun with it.

Call Number: M52VA | M54VA.abuSo

Wilmer Aburto is a Mokhinstis/Calgary-based photographer born in Nicaragua. He is passionate about social advocacy as an extension of his arts practice - his recent series of portraits aims to create more visibility of QTBIPOC and gender diverse communities. Wilmer is the recipient of several awards - including Leadership, Inclusivity, Community Partnership, and Arts Culture.