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In English     In Spanish

Iturbide’s “Jano, Ocumichu, Michoacan”  (above, left) refers to Jano or Janus, the Roman god. The two heads looking to the past and to the future is how January got its name. Janus links past and future, young and old, planting time and harvest time, birth and death, savagery and civilization. This links the Romans to a very early era when even they were close to the earth.

Graciela Iturbide:
The Spirits of the Earth ~ Los Espíritus de la Tierra

Galleries A & B:   Thursday, September 18 to Saturday, November 8, 2008
Opening Reception: Thursday, September 18, 6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m.
Sin titulo, Botanical Gardens, Oaxaca
Image Courtesy of Graphicstudio/USF
Sin titulo, Botanical Gardens, Oaxaca, Image Courtesy of Graphicstudio/USF
Graciela Iturbide, Nuestra Señora de las Iguanas
Image Courtesy of Graphicstudio/USF
Graciela Iturbide, Nuestra Señora de las Iguanas, Image Courtesy of Graphicstudio/USF

ESSAY BY JOANNE MILANI,
MUSEUM DIRECTOR


Through her photography, Graciela Iturbide welcomes you into an elemental place you have never before entered. She shows you an early Garden of Eden where Adam and Eve have not yet named the beasts, and where good and evil have not yet begun to fight.

FMoPA Hours and Location
Graciela Iturbide. Photo by Pedro Meyer
Graciela Iturbide. Photo by Pedro Meyer

From biblical times and even from early Roman times, people in the West believed that by giving names to beasts and birds, they owned those creatures. By conferring names and claiming ownership, humans set themselves above and apart from the natural world.

Iturbide’s world, however, is not a Western world. Mexico is a land of fertile mixtures, a proud “mezcla” of races and cultures from Europe, Africa and Asia, as well as the indigenous cultures of the New World. The West’s contributions add up to only a few cupfuls in the cauldron of rich Mexican stew.

Iturbide herself is of Spanish descent. Born into relative privilege in Mexico City in 1942, she discovered her gift for photography as an adult. Luckily, she gained as a mentor the great Mexican photographer Manuel Alvarez Bravo.

Graciela Iturbide, Jano, Ocumichu, Michoacan
Image Courtesy of Graphicstudio/USF
Graciela Iturbide, Jano, Ocumichu, Michoacan, Image Courtesy of Graphicstudio/USF
Graciela Iturbide, Mujer Angel,
Image Courtesy of Graphicstudio/USF
Graciela Iturbide, Mujer Angel, Image Courtesy of Graphicstudio/USF

In such a world, opposites like “male and female,” “past and present,” “life and death” lose their power. We are used to thinking of stories in linear form with beginnings, middles and ends. But in Juchitan, there is no need for beginnings and endings because their stories are circular. Forget beginnings and endings. Nothing dies because it is reborn. Male becomes female. Humans  resurface as beasts. The snake swallows its tail. The spirits in the earth are always regenerating and fading back into the soil. The dead walk among the living.

EVENTS:
            
             Gallery C: “Just Suppose" Jerry Uelsmann & Maggie Taylor Exhibition

            

             Lecture:   Jerry Uelsmann & Maggie Taylor, September 10, 6:00 p.m., HCC Campus
             Lecture:   Noel Smith:  Saturday, September 20, 1:00 p.m.                        

In her quest to find the real Mexican identity, she was also lucky enough to discover Juchitan in 1980.  This remote Mexican city has a population of 100,000 indigenous Zapotecs. Thanks to their isolation on the Isthmus of Tehauntepec, the Zapotecs had little contact with Western (European or Spanish) ways.

The Zapotecs believe they are descended from heaven in the shape of birds. They call themselves the “people of the clouds.”  “Juchitan women run the economy,” Iturbide once observed. “Even physically, Juchitan men are often smaller and skinnier than their women.”

In “Magnolia,” (not shown) a man dressed as a woman holds a mirror against his/her face, blurring the gender divide and underscoring the matriarchal structure of Zapotec society. In “Nuestra Senora de las Iguanas,”  (right) live lizards emerge from a woman’s head, erasing the beast/human divide. In “The Bird Man, Nayarit, Mexico,”  (not shown) the flurry of birds indicates a crowd of souls arriving or departing heaven. The ghostly “Mujer/Angel” (above, right) skitters across an endless desert carrying a boom-box from the present into the past.  As William Faulkner once said, “The past isn’t dead. It isn’t even past.”

Joanne Milani, Executive Director,
Florida Museum of Photographic Arts
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