Interview with Mariana Gaete

(this interview lasted 55 minutes)

How has climate change affected you or your community? You live in Chile now, so can you talk a little bit about that?

I am not from Santiago, and the last few years, I’ve lived in different places, from the North to the South of Chile. I’m always thinking about how the climate has changed in different places. I’ve participated in some projects — art projects and investigations about this topic, specifically in the fifth region, which is where I come from. There, for example, we have a lot of problems with desertification. The soil is drying, so it is slowly becoming a desert and it’s affecting the communities there.

We are losing our botanic heritage because of this — the bosque esclerófilo, the flora that grows in that part of the country. In the fifth region, there are the fires in Valparaíso, in Viña del Mar and Quilpué. It’s very connected to climate change, and also political and economic reasons. It’s all part of the situation, in my opinion.

I’m very interested in political topics. A few months ago, I did a tapestry about a place — a waterfall in Placilla, close to Valparaíso. It’s in danger because the electrical enterprises want to build electrical towers there.

Going back to the climate, in my region, we have a lot of problems. But the topic is not only about why the climate changes, it’s also about how people use soil, and how they use the territory. I think that’s the most problematic part of it.

People are the problem, too?

Yes, the climate changes because of that.

When did you first notice? Can you recall when you first noticed that the land was drying, or that climate change was really affecting your community?

A few years ago, I had the opportunity to work on a project that tried to recover the history of a citadel. This place is up on a hill, there’s a big cross, and we had to do a lot of hiking tours with people from the community. I noticed that the flora was drying really quickly, faster than before. In the past, after it rained, it took some time to absorb the water, but now the flora is so dry, it does not absorb anymore. The soil is very sandy.

Because you’ve noticed these changes, what do you think the future will be like?

I don’t know, I hope it’ll get better, but it’s difficult to say. I see that in my community, there are a lot of initiatives from different collectives — a lot of environmental collectives in the region I am from. In the South, where I live now, there are also a lot of initiatives because of Patagonia. But it’s different, and it’s difficult in some other places, like my hometown, because the people in the central parts of the country don’t have this notion of taking care of nature compared to the southern part of the country.

I think the people in the South know that Patagonia is this big thing, it’s commonly known, but in the central part of the country, where the focus is put on industrial development or services, the people don’t think much about natural resources. So we have a lot of problems with that — ecological problems and industrial problems, with people living beside petroleum factories. For example, my father has worked in one for 30 years, and all his coworkers used to die of cancer because they obviously breathe in fumes every day while working there. They also drop contaminants into the water.

Of course, in the South, there are also different problems — the salmon industry or the timber industry. But in the central part of the country, we have some industries that are causing damage to the environment, but the people do not think about it because they work in these same industries. It’s difficult to criticize something if you are working there.

Do you think that, in your country, there are more women that are interested in climate change than men? Or would you not even break it down that way? And what about indigenous communities?

I know that the indigenous communities frequently struggle with the defense of their territories because they have different customs and a different relationship with the land. It is important to them, of course. I think that there is a wide, diverse group of people that struggle with this because on one side you can have indigenous communities and on another side you can have scientific researchers. You can have anarchists, feminists, women or men. In Chile, we have a lot of anarchists who care a lot about the environment because they have an anti-consumption discourse, and that’s also important because consuming meat is also affecting global warming. I think it’s very diverse.

Lots of different points of view.

Yes, and I think that’s amazing, because sometimes when they intersect, I think it works very well. And it’s important for the communities to share their points of view about the same topic. So for that reason, there is a collective in my hometown called Santuario Kan Kan that focuses on the preservation of a huge space with native palm trees. They are completely self-managed. They took the land and started doing things to help the recovery after the fires. Taking land is not ideal, but it is necessary. They also have the help of others in the community like lawyers and scientific researchers. It’s very interesting how, sometimes, people with different degrees can help communities that want to take more direct action.

In your weaving community, can you describe your work and how you became involved in it?

I have two perspectives. Because when I try to work in communities like the Collectiva, or other collectives, I always choose political topics surrounding feminism and that kind of discourse. Because I am interested in seeing and learning how people think about certain topics like violence against women, or the topic we are focusing on now, human rights violations. I think that I split myself between my collective work and my personal work. Sometimes it’s not so explicitly political, but I try to find places to present my own statements in order to understand my surroundings. I think that we are all political, it’s part of humanity. We are all involved and entangled with discourses. It’s impossible not to reflect about society.

When I listen to you talk about it, I wonder, was there any time when you started to become more politically aware? Was it when you were 13, or 20, or 30, or a specific time?

My father is not involved in a political party, but he was always very critical of everything. So I think I was raised to have some kind of political behavior. When I grew up, I started to think about the contradictions of human society, and a lot of things that made me annoyed. I wanted to study history because I wanted to know more, and then I started to learn a lot about the 20th century history of my country — the political movement, anarchism, marxism, fascism, about everything. I think that I started to develop some interest in some ideas, but I’m not militant or part of any party. I don’t like parties, I have a complicated relationship with them.

I suppose I’m trying to be aware of what’s happening and I don’t like to look to the other side when I have social problems right in front of my face. For example, here [in the USA], it’s so difficult to see what’s happening on the streets and how people cannot look each other in the eye because they are scared of others. It’s so complex, I don’t know how you can live with it.

I wondered if you could tell me a bit about when you started weaving, and how did you learn to weave?

Before weaving, I was involved in textile art by sewing. I used to participate in another collective, but that collective was more focused on political dress — for example, we used to do workshops of balaclavas or things like that. We had workshops teaching how to make banners or flags for demonstrations using recycled textiles. After that collective, I met Daniela and I found the weaving classes and I started weaving. In my family, my aunts are all weavers, but they use different techniques. So I grew up seeing women weavers, but I didn’t learn until I started with Daniela.

What about your mother? Is she a weaver too?

No, my mother is also an artist, but she is a painter, and she does sculptures. I have some artists in my family, but they all work with different mediums. My mother is a sculptor and a painter, my brother does performances, he is an actor.

Why do you weave?

I started weaving because I was so, so depressed. I was depressed and I wanted to do something new.

Why were you depressed?

I felt alone. I was really alone. I lived in Santiago and other places, and then I moved to the North of the country, to Iquique. After Iquique, I moved back to Santiago, and I felt incredibly lonely because all my friends were living in other places, I was away from my boyfriend, and I was feeling really depressed. I was studying and I felt a little anxious because I didn’t have a way to relieve myself of the stress of life. I started weaving for that reason.

I am bipolar, and of course, that means my mood sometimes fluctuates. I found a place of peace through weaving, because when you start weaving you can focus on just that. Of course, when you first try it, it’s not that relaxing, but when you keep on weaving and start thinking through the hands, it’s a kind of magic. The first time I wove something without thinking and I finished it, it was amazing. I felt so weird, because my body learned how to make something without my head or my mind taking control of anything. So I became so amazed with that. I think that I want to explore more of that. I love that weaving a tapestry requires you to follow some steps, so it can be really structured. In Chile we say quadrado, square-shaped. But when you relax and you start to think creatively, you lose all control. It’s you and your loom and I like that. It makes me happy.

Do you have an idea of who the audience is for your weaving? Do you weave with an audience in mind?

For us as a collective, I think we have a really specific audience. I think we work for people who are engaged with certain topics. Of course, we always want to reach more people, or people who think differently, but it’s really difficult to touch the hearts of some people. I think the people who have the most interest in our work are mostly people who are already involved in political topics.

We also have a very good relationship with the National Archive in Chile because we have been working with them since we launched the second tapestry. We used some information from the National Archive in our work, so we are in partnership right now. After this tour, we have to go back to Chile and do a workshop there. The archive is an interesting connection because it’s a historical institution and it’s a place for historical development and studies. I think that’s also an important audience for us — the people who study or teach history, or who are trying to find ways to teach history.

We’d also like to reach other textile artists because we also work to please our artistic partners in that way. We also care about the way we work.

But for me, personally, separate from the collective, I don’t care much about the audience because I work for myself. Sometimes, I will find people like friends or family who will tell me that what I’m doing is amazing, or other people I know telling me things about my work. But I think I am not such an artist in that sense, since I am very lowkey.

It’s almost like a way of therapy and a way to manage who you are and your happiness. And I think that’s very important.

Can you talk about how you use the ancestral practices, or the indigenous techniques, if you do, in your weaving?

Here it’s a little bit complex, because I don’t want to appropriate anything that doesn’t belong to my heritage. Of course, tapestry is deeply rooted in the ancient pre-Hispanic cultures of the Indian South, but I am not part of that culture. I would feel ashamed if someone thinks I’m part of that, because I respect it a lot and I don’t want to appropriate.

That’s really important to me. I respect it a lot, and I try to be careful, specifically in my work as a conservator of textiles. Museums are such complex institutions and sometimes they forget to call the objects what the communities used to call them, but I try to be very meticulous in that aspect. I try to learn a lot about what the communities called some specific type of loom or tool, things like that. But always, as an investigator, I will not appropriate by calling myself a part of that community.

Aside from that, do you feel that the weaving is something that is connected to the land in any way?

In infinite ways. First, the materials. If you are working with natural fibers like cotton, bamboo, anything, there is land where that grows and you need resources for that. Or if you are working with wool, sheep eat grass and that is all part of a cycle of life. That’s the beginning. Daniela always says this, and I agree.

Weaving in Latin America was a way to express, communicate, and narrate. It’s a narration of the history of the people — what they practice, what they eat, it’s all connected to the necessities of the community. So I think it’s always — I can’t remember how to say it. I assure you that in Spanish I am more eloquent.

You can say it in Spanish.

“Siempre los textiles han sido dispositivos para mostrar la historia de los pueblos o mostrar la cultura, en que creían sus dioses, la comida que comían, lo necesario, siempre.”

Translation: Textiles have always been devices to show the history of people or show the culture, what their gods believed in, the food they ate, what is necessary, always…

On the other hand, for me, as a moody person, I am really connected to the climate and how it changes because it affects me a lot. If it’s raining, or if there’s more sun, it’s a huge topic for me. So in my weaving, I am working on that.

Before you became involved in weaving, what was your educational background?

First I studied history for my bachelor’s. I started researching political documentaries during the dictatorship and that was my first degree — not all political documentaries, but the work of specific German men who came to Chile during the dictatorship. I started with that, and after that, I wanted to change everything. I didn’t want to write papers anymore because it’s not my ideal way to teach history. I started studying conservation and now I work in museums.

Where did you grow up, again?

In Quilpué. It is close to Valparaíso, in the center of Chile — two, or one and a half hours from Santiago.

Are you part of that community anymore?

In Quilpué? No, because I don’t have many friends there. I have some friends that I have a project with to build an archive for Quilpué, but we are still working on that.

You have a lot of projects, it sounds like. What communities does your weaving intersect with?

Of course, women — feminism, women weavers. Political movements, too. Those are the primary communities.

I’d like to know about your mentors or supporters in your life along the way. In other words, who helped you on your journey throughout learning what you wanted to do and so forth, and also what challenges did you encounter along the way?

I am such a fan of my friends. I think that my friends are amazing and I learn so much through them. I have a lot of confluence with trans people and I learned a lot about trans life. My brother is a trans man. I learn a lot about that experience, about the history, and I think that I’m always learning. Chile is very discriminatory toward trans people. I think it’s worse than here in the USA, because here they are maybe a little bit more open, in some states.

But in Chile, it is really difficult to be a trans person. I am always looking to my trans family because they have taught me a lot of things about resilience, about going through changes in life, and that’s amazing knowledge. I think that all people should be more open and more empathetic. Not just empathetic, but they should learn because most people are so blocked, and their lives are so predetermined. Most people say they will grow old, get married, have a house, and get a car, and so on. But I think that the trans communities or the LGBTQ+ communities are not so focused on that, and I think that’s an amazing teaching for the patriarchal society. And I think they are an inspiration for me. My brother is an inspiration for me, and my trans friends are an inspiration for me.

Can you tell me if there is anything that we, people outside of Chile and outside of your community, can do to support the work that you’re doing as a weaver?

For my collective, I think that the best thing that people can do right now is continuing what they’re doing and visiting our work, seeing what it’s like, and trying to replicate it in their own places. I think that would really be beneficial for all, if they build their communities together. I think that’s important. Another important part of this support is giving space for the projects to say and share their thoughts openly without restrictions. I understand that sometimes communities have some fears or restrictions about what people can say, for example in the curatorial text, or things like that. It’s important to give freedom of speech.

I think another way to support this is opening more spaces for more Latin American artists in the USA. In Chile, textile art is something in the middle, between art and craft. In our case as a textile collective from Chile, I think that a new edition about what it means to be a textile artist will be really helpful to share our work with more people. Up until now, we’ve had some luck. I think we didn’t have problems with institutions or things like that, but I think that maybe it could happen in some places or some situations.

In general, not just for our practice, I think it’s important for the Global North, as some call it, to remember that most of the knowledge about weaving comes from native communities. It used to come from communities that didn’t have as much access to museums or institutions. I think it’s very important to open these spaces, and just saying you support their work is not enough for these communities.

It’s all so complicated speaking about Global North and South. It’s putting everyone in two separate bags, and I think it’s a concept that does not reflect the reality of each society. It’s a term used to separate one thing from another. But let’s suppose that the Global South and the Global North exist. I think, in that case, something important for us to continue weaving is knowing that our resources are not in danger, our communities are not in danger, and our knowledge is not in danger. But it’s really difficult because we know how the world works right now. We are a tiny country, so we are exposed to what the bigger countries, or the bigger economic powers, want for the world. So it’s a little complex to ask for that, but it’s my dream — to have more freedom in our speech, to have more freedom in what to do with our society, more freedom in what we want to say and how we want to spread our knowledge. I think that’s important — how we spread what we know and have the freedom to do it.