{"title":"Din of Pasts Colliding:拉丁美洲的城市、档案和神圣历史","authors":"Dana Leibsohn","doi":"10.1353/eal.2024.a918912","DOIUrl":null,"url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\n<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> The Din of Pasts Colliding<span>Latin American Histories Urbane, Archival, and Sacral</span> <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Dana Leibsohn (bio) </li> </ul> <em>Cuzco: Incas, Spaniards, and the Making of a Colonial City</em><br/> <small>michael schreffler</small><br/> Yale University Press, 2020<br/> 200 pp. <em>The Invention of the Colonial Americas: Data, Architecture and the Archive of the Indies, 1781–1844</em><br/> <small>byron hamann</small><br/> Getty Research Institute, 2022<br/> 328 pp. <em>Image Encounters: Moche Murals and Archeo Art History</em><br/> <small>lisa trevor</small><br/> University of Texas Press, 2022<br/> 344 pp. <p>To say that scholarship on material and visual culture is under pressure can surprise no one. Institutions holding artworks and Indigenous belongings from colonial settings worldwide face calls for redress, with increasing frequency and at times hostility. For Latin Americanists, repatriation catches the most frequent headlines. Yet ownership is only one trip hazard in this rocky terrain. Expertise developed through long hours of study—the once (seemingly) indisputable foundation for knowledge-creation—stills hold sway. Not for everyone, though. Not anymore. Writing about the Global South from intellectual and physical settings in the Global North rarely gets the pass it once did. Moreover, in Chile and Ecuador, Guatemala and Mexico, national governments and local communities vie as often as they agree over ancestral heirlooms (not to mention land and sovereignty). When détente is forged, as it sometimes is, claims <strong>[End Page 137]</strong> to autonomy in Indigenous and Black communities pull into clearer view, but so, too, do the thirsty, sprawling roots of <em>mestizaje</em>. Things are messy, indeed. No less so because, as Avexnim Cojti Ren (Maya K'iche') reminds us, scholarship can have political and legal consequences in Latin America that extend well beyond any expressed academic, institutional, or museological intentions.<sup>1</sup></p> <p>For readers of this journal, many of whom are well versed in Indigenous studies, this topography may appear unfamiliar, perhaps even belated. I can imagine a similar point voiced by archaeologists of Latin America, many of whom have become veterans at negotiating ethical and political debates. In art and architectural history, the disciplines featured in this review, the situation seems muddier. Among those who write about materials that predate Latin American nationhood—materials typically called (in English) ancient and colonial visual culture—there is wary recognition of shifting landscapes. For instance, many scholars now know that not every artwork or architectural space that sparks interest (or that \"matters for their research\") is as available for their interpretation as in times past. And collaborative work with Black and Indigenous scholars and elders is becoming more norm than exception in exhibition- and excavation-based work. The perspectives of contemporary Latin American, Latinx, Black, and Indigenous artists and their artworks also have a new and resonant presence, opening possibilities for bridging past with present.</p> <p>It is tempting to call this work decolonial. Yet I hesitate. Art and architectural historians who study Latin America's colonial and ancient cultures rarely embrace decolonization explicitly—either in discourse or published practice.<sup>2</sup> While some scholars believe that decolonization means land back or nothing and have turned to anticolonial thinking instead, we should be honest: old disciplinary habits die hard. For good or for ill, many in the field are still taught to privilege objects over activism. And as it turns out, codependent relationships—of the kind that bind academics, museums, archives, and private collections (if not also archaeological sites)—are proving harder to unwind than most of us ever imagined. Moreover, Latin American national commitments to <em>mestizaje</em> constitute Indigeneity in ways that have yet to receive their due in most decolonial writing about the arts. How conditions in Bolivia might align with or model other decolonial projects—in Canada, Australia, or India—that jury is still out.<sup>3</sup> It may run against the grain of contemporary politics to say this, but for Latin <strong>[End Page 138]</strong> Americanists, the term <em>decolonial</em> and its connotative forcefields can foreclose as much as they enable.</p> <p>The books reviewed here by Michael Schreffler, Byron Ellsworth Hamann, and Lisa Trever respond to this mottled and riven terrain in varied ways, and knowingly so. The three share an interest in architecture—or perhaps, more accurately, architecturally articulated environments. All also challenge familiar disciplinary tropes. Notably, each performs its intellectual commitments, holding back on declarative assertion. Some...</p> </p>","PeriodicalId":44043,"journal":{"name":"EARLY AMERICAN LITERATURE","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.3000,"publicationDate":"2024-02-12","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":"0","resultStr":"{\"title\":\"The Din of Pasts Colliding: Latin American Histories Urbane, Archival, and Sacral\",\"authors\":\"Dana Leibsohn\",\"doi\":\"10.1353/eal.2024.a918912\",\"DOIUrl\":null,\"url\":null,\"abstract\":\"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\\n<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> The Din of Pasts Colliding<span>Latin American Histories Urbane, Archival, and Sacral</span> <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Dana Leibsohn (bio) </li> </ul> <em>Cuzco: Incas, Spaniards, and the Making of a Colonial City</em><br/> <small>michael schreffler</small><br/> Yale University Press, 2020<br/> 200 pp. <em>The Invention of the Colonial Americas: Data, Architecture and the Archive of the Indies, 1781–1844</em><br/> <small>byron hamann</small><br/> Getty Research Institute, 2022<br/> 328 pp. <em>Image Encounters: Moche Murals and Archeo Art History</em><br/> <small>lisa trevor</small><br/> University of Texas Press, 2022<br/> 344 pp. <p>To say that scholarship on material and visual culture is under pressure can surprise no one. Institutions holding artworks and Indigenous belongings from colonial settings worldwide face calls for redress, with increasing frequency and at times hostility. For Latin Americanists, repatriation catches the most frequent headlines. Yet ownership is only one trip hazard in this rocky terrain. Expertise developed through long hours of study—the once (seemingly) indisputable foundation for knowledge-creation—stills hold sway. Not for everyone, though. Not anymore. Writing about the Global South from intellectual and physical settings in the Global North rarely gets the pass it once did. Moreover, in Chile and Ecuador, Guatemala and Mexico, national governments and local communities vie as often as they agree over ancestral heirlooms (not to mention land and sovereignty). When détente is forged, as it sometimes is, claims <strong>[End Page 137]</strong> to autonomy in Indigenous and Black communities pull into clearer view, but so, too, do the thirsty, sprawling roots of <em>mestizaje</em>. Things are messy, indeed. No less so because, as Avexnim Cojti Ren (Maya K'iche') reminds us, scholarship can have political and legal consequences in Latin America that extend well beyond any expressed academic, institutional, or museological intentions.<sup>1</sup></p> <p>For readers of this journal, many of whom are well versed in Indigenous studies, this topography may appear unfamiliar, perhaps even belated. I can imagine a similar point voiced by archaeologists of Latin America, many of whom have become veterans at negotiating ethical and political debates. In art and architectural history, the disciplines featured in this review, the situation seems muddier. Among those who write about materials that predate Latin American nationhood—materials typically called (in English) ancient and colonial visual culture—there is wary recognition of shifting landscapes. For instance, many scholars now know that not every artwork or architectural space that sparks interest (or that \\\"matters for their research\\\") is as available for their interpretation as in times past. And collaborative work with Black and Indigenous scholars and elders is becoming more norm than exception in exhibition- and excavation-based work. The perspectives of contemporary Latin American, Latinx, Black, and Indigenous artists and their artworks also have a new and resonant presence, opening possibilities for bridging past with present.</p> <p>It is tempting to call this work decolonial. Yet I hesitate. Art and architectural historians who study Latin America's colonial and ancient cultures rarely embrace decolonization explicitly—either in discourse or published practice.<sup>2</sup> While some scholars believe that decolonization means land back or nothing and have turned to anticolonial thinking instead, we should be honest: old disciplinary habits die hard. For good or for ill, many in the field are still taught to privilege objects over activism. And as it turns out, codependent relationships—of the kind that bind academics, museums, archives, and private collections (if not also archaeological sites)—are proving harder to unwind than most of us ever imagined. Moreover, Latin American national commitments to <em>mestizaje</em> constitute Indigeneity in ways that have yet to receive their due in most decolonial writing about the arts. How conditions in Bolivia might align with or model other decolonial projects—in Canada, Australia, or India—that jury is still out.<sup>3</sup> It may run against the grain of contemporary politics to say this, but for Latin <strong>[End Page 138]</strong> Americanists, the term <em>decolonial</em> and its connotative forcefields can foreclose as much as they enable.</p> <p>The books reviewed here by Michael Schreffler, Byron Ellsworth Hamann, and Lisa Trever respond to this mottled and riven terrain in varied ways, and knowingly so. The three share an interest in architecture—or perhaps, more accurately, architecturally articulated environments. All also challenge familiar disciplinary tropes. Notably, each performs its intellectual commitments, holding back on declarative assertion. 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引用次数: 0
摘要
以下是内容的简要摘录,以代替摘要: The Din of Pasts CollidingLatin American Histories Urbane, Archival, and Sacral Dana Leibsohn (bio) Cuzco:印加人、西班牙人和殖民城市的形成》(Incas, Spaniards, and the Making of a Colonial City),迈克尔-施雷弗勒(Michael schreffler)著,耶鲁大学出版社,2020 年,200 页。美洲殖民地的发明:Data, Architecture and the Archive of the Indies, 1781-1844 byron hamann Getty Research Institute, 2022 328 pp.图像邂逅:Lisa Trevor University of Texas Press, 2022 344 pp.如果说物质和视觉文化方面的学术研究面临着压力,没有人会感到意外。世界各地持有来自殖民地环境的艺术品和土著财产的机构都面临着要求补偿的呼声,这种呼声越来越频繁,有时甚至充满敌意。对于拉美学者来说,遣返是最常见的头条新闻。然而,所有权仅仅是这一崎岖道路上的一个绊脚石。通过长时间学习形成的专业知识--曾经(似乎)无可争议的知识创造基础--仍然占据着主导地位。但并非每个人都是如此。不再是了。从全球北方的知识和物质环境出发撰写关于全球南方的文章,很少能像以前那样获得通过。此外,在智利和厄瓜多尔、危地马拉和墨西哥,国家政府和当地社区在祖传遗产(更不用说土地和主权了)问题上经常争执不下。当缓和局面形成时(有时确实如此),土著和黑人社区的自治诉求 [第 137 页完] 就会变得更加清晰,但 "混血儿 "渴求、蔓延的根源也会变得更加清晰。事情的确很混乱。正如 Avexnim Cojti Ren(玛雅人 K'iche')提醒我们的那样,在拉丁美洲,学术研究可能会产生政治和法律后果,这些后果远远超出了任何明示的学术、机构或博物馆学意图。我可以想象拉丁美洲的考古学家也会提出类似的观点,他们中的许多人已经成为在伦理和政治辩论中谈判的老手。在艺术史和建筑史(本评论的特色学科)中,情况似乎更为复杂。在那些研究拉丁美洲建国之前的材料--通常被称为(英语)古代和殖民地视觉文化的材料--的学者中,人们警惕地认识到情况的变化。例如,许多学者现在知道,并不是每件引起他们兴趣(或 "对他们的研究很重要")的艺术品或建筑空间都能像过去那样供他们解读。在以展览和发掘为基础的工作中,与黑人和土著学者及长者的合作已成为常态而非例外。当代拉美、拉美裔、黑人和土著艺术家的视角及其艺术作品也有了新的共鸣,为连接过去与现在提供了可能性。将这项工作称为 "非殖民化 "很有诱惑力。但我犹豫了。研究拉丁美洲殖民文化和古代文化的艺术史和建筑史学者很少明确接受非殖民化--无论是在论述中还是在出版实践中。2 虽然有些学者认为非殖民化意味着土地回归或一无所有,并转而进行反殖民主义思考,但我们应该坦诚:旧的学科习惯很难改变。不管是好是坏,该领域的许多人仍然被教导要重视对象而非行动主义。事实证明,学术界、博物馆、档案馆和私人收藏(如果不包括考古遗址)之间的依存关系比我们大多数人想象的更难解开。此外,拉美国家对混血的承诺构成了土著性,而在大多数关于艺术的非殖民化写作中,这些承诺尚未得到应有的体现。玻利维亚的情况如何与加拿大、澳大利亚或印度的其他非殖民化项目保持一致或为其树立榜样,目前尚无定论。3 虽然这样说可能有悖于当代政治,但对于拉美主义者来说,"非殖民化 "一词及其内涵的力场既能阻止也能促进。迈克尔-施雷夫勒、拜伦-埃尔斯沃思-哈曼和丽莎-特雷弗在此评论的书籍以不同的方式对这一斑驳陆离的地形做出了回应,而且是明知故犯。三人都对建筑--或许更准确地说,是建筑艺术化的环境--感兴趣。三人还都挑战了熟悉的学科陈规。值得注意的是,每个人都履行了自己的知识承诺,对宣言式的断言持保留态度。有些...
The Din of Pasts Colliding: Latin American Histories Urbane, Archival, and Sacral
In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:
The Din of Pasts CollidingLatin American Histories Urbane, Archival, and Sacral
Dana Leibsohn (bio)
Cuzco: Incas, Spaniards, and the Making of a Colonial City michael schreffler Yale University Press, 2020 200 pp. The Invention of the Colonial Americas: Data, Architecture and the Archive of the Indies, 1781–1844 byron hamann Getty Research Institute, 2022 328 pp. Image Encounters: Moche Murals and Archeo Art History lisa trevor University of Texas Press, 2022 344 pp.
To say that scholarship on material and visual culture is under pressure can surprise no one. Institutions holding artworks and Indigenous belongings from colonial settings worldwide face calls for redress, with increasing frequency and at times hostility. For Latin Americanists, repatriation catches the most frequent headlines. Yet ownership is only one trip hazard in this rocky terrain. Expertise developed through long hours of study—the once (seemingly) indisputable foundation for knowledge-creation—stills hold sway. Not for everyone, though. Not anymore. Writing about the Global South from intellectual and physical settings in the Global North rarely gets the pass it once did. Moreover, in Chile and Ecuador, Guatemala and Mexico, national governments and local communities vie as often as they agree over ancestral heirlooms (not to mention land and sovereignty). When détente is forged, as it sometimes is, claims [End Page 137] to autonomy in Indigenous and Black communities pull into clearer view, but so, too, do the thirsty, sprawling roots of mestizaje. Things are messy, indeed. No less so because, as Avexnim Cojti Ren (Maya K'iche') reminds us, scholarship can have political and legal consequences in Latin America that extend well beyond any expressed academic, institutional, or museological intentions.1
For readers of this journal, many of whom are well versed in Indigenous studies, this topography may appear unfamiliar, perhaps even belated. I can imagine a similar point voiced by archaeologists of Latin America, many of whom have become veterans at negotiating ethical and political debates. In art and architectural history, the disciplines featured in this review, the situation seems muddier. Among those who write about materials that predate Latin American nationhood—materials typically called (in English) ancient and colonial visual culture—there is wary recognition of shifting landscapes. For instance, many scholars now know that not every artwork or architectural space that sparks interest (or that "matters for their research") is as available for their interpretation as in times past. And collaborative work with Black and Indigenous scholars and elders is becoming more norm than exception in exhibition- and excavation-based work. The perspectives of contemporary Latin American, Latinx, Black, and Indigenous artists and their artworks also have a new and resonant presence, opening possibilities for bridging past with present.
It is tempting to call this work decolonial. Yet I hesitate. Art and architectural historians who study Latin America's colonial and ancient cultures rarely embrace decolonization explicitly—either in discourse or published practice.2 While some scholars believe that decolonization means land back or nothing and have turned to anticolonial thinking instead, we should be honest: old disciplinary habits die hard. For good or for ill, many in the field are still taught to privilege objects over activism. And as it turns out, codependent relationships—of the kind that bind academics, museums, archives, and private collections (if not also archaeological sites)—are proving harder to unwind than most of us ever imagined. Moreover, Latin American national commitments to mestizaje constitute Indigeneity in ways that have yet to receive their due in most decolonial writing about the arts. How conditions in Bolivia might align with or model other decolonial projects—in Canada, Australia, or India—that jury is still out.3 It may run against the grain of contemporary politics to say this, but for Latin [End Page 138] Americanists, the term decolonial and its connotative forcefields can foreclose as much as they enable.
The books reviewed here by Michael Schreffler, Byron Ellsworth Hamann, and Lisa Trever respond to this mottled and riven terrain in varied ways, and knowingly so. The three share an interest in architecture—or perhaps, more accurately, architecturally articulated environments. All also challenge familiar disciplinary tropes. Notably, each performs its intellectual commitments, holding back on declarative assertion. Some...