The Rio 2016 cauldron has officially been extinguished, and Brazil has successfully passed the baton to Japan for the upcoming Tokyo 2020 Olympic and Paralympic Games, concluding what have certainly been extraordinarily eventful months of planning, preparation and execution for this year’s host country.
Despite the air of pessimism hanging over Brazil and the millions of politically charged Brasileiros due to the long-sought-after impeachment of Dilma Rousseff, both the Opening and Closing Ceremonies won worldwide acclaim for their spectacularly vibrant display of Brazilian culture.
No stadium construction calamity could ever detract from the ingenuity of the team that so beautifully told the nation’s history of colonisation and ethnic intertwining that is responsible for Brazil’s wondrous diversity. The Olympic celebrations fittingly culminated in a samba-induced, valedictory Carnaval, enjoyed by spectators and athletes alike.
The Games presented their first South American host city with an opportunity to showcase what makes its citizens proud to call themselves Cariocas, belting out their national anthem with such euphoric patriotism that any tensions over underlying political instability could be temporarily cast aside. They undoubtedly pulled off the party that the world was expecting to see.
However, amidst the pyrotechnics, confetti-clad performers, and non-stop dancing on multi-coloured favela rooftops, many people, comforted by the familiarity of the lulling rhythms of Bossa Nova, will never venture beyond the accessible surface level of Brazil’s pop culture. It is curious that what we perceive to be characteristic of Brazilian culture is rarely ever questioned.
So, in terms of visual culture, how can we actually put our finger on what makes art Brazilian? It continues to stir debate amongst critics, mainly because it seems that nobody is able to conjure up a cogent argument for what Brazilian art is.
When renowned art critic Gonzaga Duque published ‘A Arte Brasileira’ in 1888, he paradoxically both admired and criticised the cosmopolitanism that shaped Brazilian art. Art evolved as a direct result of the country’s demographic shifts, experienced as native Amerindians, Portuguese colonisers, African slaves and, later, European and Asian immigrants all dived into the giant melting pot.
While this fusion helped forge a national artistic identity like no other, it was inevitably regarded by some as a form of cultural ‘cannibalism’ that lacked substance. This was reflected in the Antropofagía movement of the 1920s, inspired by Tarsila do Amaral’s painting of Abaporu, a tupi-guarani ‘man who eats people’, symbolic of Brazil’s ‘swallowing’ of other cultures in order to generate a new national identity.
Many of its famous artists embraced this ideology, including the Baroque sculptor Aleijadinho, who carved The Twelve Prophets with chisels tied to his fingerless hands; Anita Malfatti, the Modernist painter who revolutionised Brazil’s 20th-century art; and the expressionist artist Iberê Camargo, one of the country’s best expressionist painters. These are just some of the many talented artists born on Brazilian soil, offering enough evidence to refute claims made against the authenticity of their art.
But does this help us to understand what Brazilianess in art even is? I believe that what makes art from the country stand out in particular is its connection to the natural world.
Brazilian artists recognise the potential of their country’s natural resources, seeking to appreciate Mother Earth’s treasures through relevant tropes in their work. Concerns of climate change permeated the Opening Ceremony through a video forecasting a 4°C temperature rise and its global impact on ever-rising water levels, as well as through film director Fernando Meirelles’ digital flooring used to promote the theme of gambiarra: to make do.
Photograph by Sebastião Salgado
Image by cvpts via Flickr creative commons
This idea of gambiarra recalled Vik Muniz’ Wasteland project, when he collaborated with the litter pickers who collected rubbish for recycling on the Jardim Gramacho landfill site by ‘painting’ their portraits with garbage. Sebastião Salgado, photographer and photojournalist, has similarly set about capturing breathtaking images of our planet to show the general public exactly what we will lose if we don’t respect our habitats and start building the ‘path towards humanity’s rediscovery of itself’.
Despite the apparent political tensions, Brazil and its people can be proud to have put on the show of a lifetime, the magical spectacle that was Rio 2016, for everyone to watch and enjoy.
Brazil’s art is truly bonita!
Featured image by David Jones via Flickr Creative Commons
