analysis of visual testimonios
With inspirations noted above, the following are two examples of visual testimonio as art analysis. They emerge(d) through the creation of the collages that we see, the knowledge of the student/interviewer and the matriarch, and perspective of this student. They, as visual testimonios and as archive, have multiple meanings because art can be more abstract in the way that it shows and not tells the audience what meaning came of this.
Art in general, and specifically collage, allows for a slowing down and a meaning making that shows a physical thinking through our hands (Chua, 2023) - even our digital “hands”. The analysis and meaning making in these visual testimonios exists twofold: the one that is created after the artist, in this case students, create after listening to an oral history of a matriarch in their community, and two, the meaning making and analysis that happens through the interpretation and interaction with the art from the audience.
Embracing collage as Chua talks about, as reflexivity dismantling and reassembling (Chua, 2023) - we re-envision collage and archive together as a way of redreaming continuation of... Multilayered hands where aesthetic and narrative meet. I present the two examples that follow as a few of many narratives and histories in the (still growing) WOCArchive.
primer país.
In the spring of 2017, I took a Visual Research Methods course with Dr. Wendy Luttrell and Dr. Victoria Restler (who are two of the founders of Collaborative Seeing Studio) where I workshopped and created the original visual testimonio for the WOCArchive. Through this piece, I wanted to show the beauty and cruelty of motherhood, and the complexity of mother-daughter relationships. Although I am not yet a mother, I am intrigued by the idea of who our mothers and other matriarchs in my community were before we arrived in the world ---- this short film is part of that yearning. However, because my grandmother had her first child when she was incredibly young, this piece touches on a few tender moments some of which occurred after she already had birthed children. Throughout this section, I describe the process and analysis of my visual testimonio, through content, visuals, and artist craft.
The opening song Señora, Señora by Denise de Kalafe is the singer’s ode to the person that gave her life, has stood by her through the toughest times, and is one of her best friends --- her mother. I purposely included this song as an aspirational and ironic pairing of what could have been for my abuelita and her mother, a song that was purposely maligned with the relationship they had. When the oral history begins, my abuelita recounts the last words she shared with her mother before she passed away. Her mother complained about the amount of pain she was experiencing but wanted to teach Aída, my abuelita who was already a mother at age 15, a few lessons in motherhood since she would no longer be there to guide her through this new chapter. In the audio, you hear my grandmother recounting the explicit directions her mother gave her to make calzoncitos, a baby undergarment. In tandem, as abuelita begins to say grab the cloth and scissors; cut it here; sew the button there I attempt to make the garment by following her instructions cutting fabric, lifting the garment to measure it with my eyes. After sharing words of wisdom about caring for her children, I asked my grandmother if they said ‘I love you’ as they said goodbye. Abuelita immediately and sternly said no. She shares one memory of when her mother showed her love and says she was so young, it felt unreal. Like a dream. Like she had almost imagined it. I must’ve been really young since she was still dressing me. She took me out of the shower, dried me with a towel, and gave me a kiss on my forehead. You hear her voice begin to crack. She tears up and says it was the only loving memory she had of her mother. The short film ends with a poem from nayyirah waheed, that speaks on cruel mothers and giving birth to our pain. The screen goes black and a strong accordion solo from Ramon Ayala’s norteña classic Un Rinconcito En El Cielo closes out this piece as a nod to El Norte, where my abuelita ended up and where this interview took place. The title primer país is inspired by the poem --- lands. by nayyirah waheed, referring to our mothers as our first countries. The first place we lived. Having these narratives have helped me further fill the archival void (Hartman, 2018) that can never really be fully recovered or understood but that we can reclaim and resist through art. Art also serves a purpose in the archive to show how we’re interpreting what we will never fully know. Hartman describes the danger of these archives because what is there and who created it who stored it etc., is objective and “factual” but from whose perspective? There are so many unknowns as a descendent of colonized people and art allows for a re-storying of memory work that is absolutely necessary.
In this paragraph, I zoom into the craft of the visual aesthetic choices within my visual testimonio. Throughout the creation of this piece, I made intentional artistic choices that were inspired by the artists mentioned earlier in this chapter. The analysis and processing of this interview wasn’t solely in my explicit choices to include a song, poem, or traditional huipil. It was also the embodied process of following the directions, editing the footage, and creating the piece that is part of the analysis. Activating my hands to move after listening to that oral history interview with abuelita, which was over 2 hours long, was part of the process. As I workshopped this film, abuelita and her mother, were also part of that methods course. By workshopping a short film, my classmates listened to abuelita’s voice, and engaged with meaning making and knowledge production in a way that shows, not tells. Because of this, my analysis is also in the deeply intentional moves I made to create and edit this project. Here is part of that analysis.
I’m inspired by the repetition in song and poetry and the piece is filled with Instagram-like boomerangs and GIFs, creating a profound yet tedious effect. This repetition continues when I attempt to create the calzoncitos that abuelita describes. Following the directions of my great grandmother, Josefina, via my abuelita Aída’s retelling was a deeply embodied and emotional experience that transcended time and space: 1950s Veracruz to 2016 southern California and 2023 writing this dissertation in Harlem. It is through this visual testimonio and art that intergenerational meaning making spaces can be created and fostered. Throughout the short film, there are poems, specific words, and lack of translation as I wanted the audience to feel more than literally comprehend what my abuelita spoke about. I purposely used a sepia tone throughout this film as an aesthetic of ambiguity that leans on a historical or vintage look but could also have been created in any time period. My trenza and huipil, a traditional indigenous woven shirt I purchased during my first and only trip to Veracruz, are symbolic artifacts of my ancestors many of whom are faceless and invisibilized.
Below, is a video annotation tool, VideoAnt, linked to my short film primer país. I invite you to participate in this annotation tool in two ways:
Watch the video and notice: How/where do others annotate the video? If anything spoke to you from the previous annotations, reply to their annotation with an affirmation.
Contribute to the Public Annotations by logging in and/or creating an account on VideoAnt by clicking here. As you watch the visual testimonio, annotate with the following prompts in mind: Describe your feelings at various points in the story. What does this remind you of? Which parts resonate with you? Why?
mi madrina
In this second visual testimonio, Mi Madrina by Jennifer Florencio, I analyze the content, image, and craft Jennifer uses to recounts an interview with her godmother, Maurelia. The opening image of this testimonio begins with a map of México, where a cut out image of Jennifer’s madrina, her godmother Maurelia, stands in the central part of the southern border. In this testimonio, we learn of Maurelia’s distinct experiences in México and the United States as interpreted by her goddaughter Jennifer, who identifies as Chicana. Her madrina begins to talk about the reasons they moved to the US and the oppression they experienced.
Vivíamos mucho y éramos muy pobres
Eh, Nos gustaba.. Es.. fue una niñez muy bonita que
Eh, nos enseñaron a trabajar desde muy niños
Los 12 llegamos 12 hermanos llegamos acá a trabajar
Para ayudarles a nuestros papás a construir una casita
A darles eh lo que se merecían
Y me empezó agredir,
no que tu.. que ustedes son unos ilegales
que te voy a llamar a la inmigración
The most dominant stories of the frontera tend to begin and end at the border. Rarely do we get to hear the stories of individuals’ lives beyond this significant but painful moment. Maurelia’s testimonio debunks the myth of the American Dream, that once arriving in the United States, you are wealthier, happier, and overall better off. Maurelia’s recounting of being called illegal, reverberates through the multiplicity of butterflies, the panadería where she works, and her stoic face juxtaposed with smaller smiling photographs framing her larger image. The tone of this piece fluctuates from beginning to end with both tender, painful, and violent memories of her transition in a new country. Maurelia’s testimonio disrupts conservative rhetoric that immigrants are taking advantage of this country, when in fact, there are multiple examples of the exploitation immigrants face --- an experience that is often silenced and erased.
In the opening image of North America a cut out image of Jennifer’s madrina sits between México and the United States. Situated in a literal state of nepantla, Anzaldúa’s (1981) concept of living in a liminal space of cultures, identity, sexuality, language, and more, Jennifer continues this visual of nepantla in the last frame. On the left side, is the bakery her madrina works in Queens, while the right side is a visual of her hometown in México. There is a large image of Maurelia in the middle of this frame, between Queens, NY and Puebla, MX. This visual emits an affect of visuality, an affect of nepantla that can’t be fully expressed beyond here. There is also a distinct difference between the photos she chose for México and the ones that are connected to the US. When she talks about her childhood she is happy and “blooming”. The flowers appear on the perimeter of her smiling face, joyfully explaining una niñez muy bonita. The image of nepantla at the end, paired with the audio of ilegal, and the recounting of the racial slurs, holds a very stoic and conflicting tone. Oftentimes, we hear narratives of meritocracy and how moving to the US changed our lives for the better. In this testimonio, Maurelia tells us that she had a beautiful childhood in México and slowly the interview moves to a more morose tone. Having to move to the US to support family, experiencing hardship and oppression upon arrival, in contrast to the intonation of her voice when speaking about her childhood with 12 siblings. The visuals in this last frame also provide a compelling juxtaposition of both gratitude and survival. In the foreground, is an image of Maurelia incredibly serious. And two smaller photos poking out of the larger stoic image, smiling from afar. It almost feels as if her past or herself in México is behind her, and that the US has hardened her --- has broken her spirit.
The context of this testimonio gives us a nuanced Chicana experience by situating this identity in a place far from the Borderlands--not in California but in Queens, NYC-- but still very much connected to the duality of being ni de aquí ni de allá. There is typically a smaller presence of a Chicana identity in the Northeast of the United States. As a teacher in New York City, many of the students with roots in México named their identities as Mexican and Mexican-American. There is a distance, both literally and figuratively, with the politicized history of Chicano student movements, and the general relationship to the land in the Southwest that is central to our understanding of Chicanismo. Through her choice of words, images, and movement, Jennifer’s project intentionally celebrates Maurelia’s lived experiences, fully honoring a matriarch within the Latina community.