[c]

The Arrival

At 5:30 am the plaza outside the San Cristóbal bus station is quiet other than the sound of birds, crickets and the occasional distant motor, as an unseen vehicle turns onto an unknown road. These streets are still wet with the remains of an earlier rain and the smell of the damp mixes with that of the soil and the stone. How is it that stone smells? It seems implausible but there it is. Even the plaster and paint is there and, of course, the poo⁰¹. Dogs live their perilous lives out here on these streets, cowering in the darkened spaces where safety from some unknown threat seems elusive. As night’s darkness slowly succumbs to the dominance of day’s light, it soon becomes apparent that the writing is on the wall. Down every street, unheard voices speak through the medium of paint. This could be the time when they normally shout silently their words of anger and frustration, but at this moment they’re invisible. What lingers is an echoing of feelings, the traces of a part of society that is disenfranchised and relegated to communicating their message in the dark of night⁰².

Though the graffiti of the streets may speak more directly than the scent of soil, both these experiences, and a myriad more, contribute to a sense of place. They are aesthetic experiences that contribute to a greater understanding⁰³, experiences that can help bring one closer to a state of empathy⁰⁴. My hope is, that by being here, I get closer to both these experiences⁰⁵.

Homecoming

Normally, walking down darkened streets can be an unsettling experience. But these streets feel safe somehow—if not for the dogs—at least for me. The shadows and fog bring with them a spirit and an energy, a revitalisation after a long winter in the north that seems to have sapped my strength. Walking this last mile to my destination, I’m happy as I begin to hear a familiar clip-clopping sound. It sounds like a horse, but I’ve been fooled before by this sound, so this time I don’t need to look to know its just a car approaching over the cobblestones. I realise that this is something of a homecoming.

Destination & Departure

San Cristóbal de las Casas is both a destination and a departure point for a journey toward understanding. It is a centre of cultural commerce for the southern Mexican state of Chiapas, and the centre of a long struggle for social justice. The people who come to this place all have their own personal reasons for doing so and traditionally it hasn’t been an easy place to get to, so its rare that someone arrives by accident. And yet all of us who have come to this place have arrived somewhere else. Our own past experiences and our own intentions⁰⁶ inform our perception of this place and individualise our experience of it. This will impact each of us in ways that will affect our ability to connect with the place and the people here.

Intention

I have come to San Cristóbal to investigate the communication approach of a sociopolitical organisation called the Zapatista Army of National Liberation. I’m interested in the apparent success they’ve had in communicating their message to a wide international audience and the difficulties they’ve had communicating locally and nationally. As a result of this interest, I’m drawn to the various images that I associate with communication and how these images are presented. Others have come to gain a better understanding of the social concerns of the people who are living their often difficult lives both here, in San Cristóbal, and beyond the mountains that surround us.

Communication

These streets are a mix of economic and political activity. Retail stores, restaurants, internet cafés, art galleries and book stores populate the city just like any other. But look more closely and you’ll see that there is something different about many of these establishments. Propaganda t-shirts are a popular product in both retail spaces and in the markets, many restaurants are meeting places for activism, and fliers in internet cafe’s announce political meetings or documentaries taking place in one of the town’s many underground cinemas. Yet its the bookstore that speaks to the unique nature of this place. Virtually every one is stocked to the ceiling with an incredible selection of knowledge from philosophy and poetry to sociology, anthropology and political science. The vast majority of the material is Spanish language and intended for a local audience rather than the tourist market. This reflects the highly literate and critically engaged nature of the local population, a characteristic that becomes all the more obvious when you speak with them. This isn’t to say that everyone is engaged and thoughtful but they appear to be more so than other communities.

This could be one reason why the communication campaign by the Zapatistas is primarily focused on words, its the understanding that both San Cristóbal and the larger Mexican community are very sociopolitically literate. In fact it appears that the verbal and written aspect of the Zapatista organisation is almost the only official vehicle for such communication. It is expressed in print through authorised publications of the words of Subcomandante Marcos—these often take the form of poetry, prose or indigenous myth⁰⁷—and by an internet presence through sites such as Radio Insurgente and Enlace Zapatista. Here text, audio, and video files are disseminated to a wider national and international audience, and while images do mix with the words, they take a back seat. Even the ubiquitous socialist red star is slowly disappearing as the symbol for the organisation, being replaced by that of the Sexta Campaña or simply not being used at all—though its hard to tell at this point whether this is deliberate or merely incidental.

Rhetorical Currency

What is certain though is that, while there exists only a limited amount of official visual communication, there is an immense collection of apparently accepted unauthorised material. This largely takes the form of t-shirts, posters, books, dvds, and thematic hand-crafted objects, all of which is for sale and most of which appears to be directed toward the political tourist market. These products are distinctive for their direct attempt to convey messages of support and many of them appear to reflect a growing change in the organization’s policy and identity. Though many of these objects could be considered arts or craft, the fact that they are intended primarily as political messages makes it more difficult to accept them as art⁰⁸.

Culture

Other objects of art and craft exist here too. Pieces that reflect the culture of various indigenous communities that live in San Cristóbal and throughout Chiapas. In many respects these objects appear more authentic than those whose original intention is to communicate a political message. They are personal expressions, and as such, bring us closer to the lives of the people who create them⁰⁹. Through encounters with these cultural artefacts and conversations with local people in the community, I am beginning to feel that I may have lost sight of the forest for all the trees. I worry that this will affect my work and its practical intentions, but most of all I worry that I’m not doing justice to the issues or the people concerned.

Another Destination

I’ve been thinking about the larger systemic problems lately, and wondering about how design can play a more constitutive role in addressing them. These problems are messy but I think that design’s own knowledge and its iterative approach to problem solving, can play a role here. Recent ideas in design thinking, such as co-creation and collaboration, might also prove to be invaluable¹⁰.

It’s a new day—it’s almost hot—and for the first time I can wear a t-shirt and shorts. I’m hanging out my laundry to dry on the roof of the family home where I’m staying. The city I’ve been experiencing for the past week or so is all around me but I’m being beckoned by the mountains in the distance and the unknown that lies beyond them. I realise that to get a greater understanding of the larger problems behind this movement, I need to go there. So tomorrow, a friend and I will hop into the VW and quite literally head for the hills, except we won’t be running from something, we’ll be running to it. I don’t know what I’ll find there, though I have some ideas. I just hope it brings me closer to the answers I’m seeking, whatever they end up being.

Footnotes

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01 This is similar to other experiences I’ve had in the past and as a result, my perception of them is different than it would otherwise be. As Santayana wrote “The treasures of the memory have been melted and dissolved, and are now gilding the object that supplants them; they are giving this object expression.” My memories, as they are recalled in the present, affect my perception.

02 I have attempted here to express what Susan Langer refers to as the subjective aspect of experience. It’s not possible for me to define or “name” the feeling associated. I accept that it is “perhaps impossible to communicate” this feeling but I’ve done my best to get closer to it.

03 I don’t presuppose that understanding is an easily attainable goal. One must reflect upon one’s own perception, be aware of imagination, and “look more closely” in order to “discover new significations.” As Mikel Dufrenne writes, “Understanding is the imagination as conscious of itself and as imposing a rule on the spontaneity of its associations. (370-373) In other words, one should think about what one is feeling, where those feelings come from, and why.

04 This notion of empathy is based on the ideas of Edith Stein. She argued that while empathy is not primordial in outer perception, ideational, or reflective experience, it is primordial in present experience, but not in content (Michau 25). In summary:

Empathy… is the experience of foreign consciousness in general, irrespective of the kind of experiencing subject or of the subject whose consciousness is experienced. (28)

Maybe our ability to feel empathy is itself a product of some collective unconscious, but the particulars of the felt emotion such as our thoughts or perceptions of it, are subject to our own experiences.

05 Yet both experiences are different in nature. Understanding is the domain of logic and empathy that of feeling. As Dufrenne also points out, “understanding must not drag us into the field of purely objective significations which only serve to confirm our power or our indifference.” (377) So we should be careful not to let excessive rationality condemn us to living with a cold heart.

06 This intention is different from what Dufrenne refers to as intentionality. The distinction he makes is that “intentionality is no longer an aim or mere intention toward but a participation with.” [his emphasis] (406) This brings us closer to Stein’s above-mentioned notion of empathy, or of shared experience.

One’s attempt to gain a better understanding (as described below-left) is not the same as “a participation with”, it is more distant, more objective. Yet somehow I feel as though the objective significations (note 03) that Dufrenne writes about also bring us closer to “a participation with”. It seems to me that understanding frees us from our constrained scepticism, enabling us to trust our own judgements and allowing us to feel.

07 If, as Leo Tolstoy claims, religions have always furnished the guide to human progress (67), then, for many, Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos is a modern day prophet.
His writings are often referred to as works and perceived of as art. For many they express emotion and transmit feeling, characteristics that help define art according to Tolstoy, and, if one accepts the religious analogy, he would view it closer still to “true and good art.” (68)
Yet I’m more inclined to turn to Edward Bullough’s notion of Phychical Distance as a more objective explanation. In the context of the character of the object, that being Marcos’ writings, they are what Bullough calls idealistic, highly distanced Art. It is a “subordination of Art to some extraneous purpose of an impressive, exceptional character.” (378) But as he writes earlier, idealistic art suffers in that its excess of distance “turns generally into an under-distanced appeal.” (376) So in taking a higher moral ground, one that might be looked up to, he creates a certain aesthetic, but when something is too highly moral it risks collapsing into banality.

It appears that there is an attempt to attain some sort of optimal distance within Marcos’ writing, though at times it risks under-distancing and reducing itself to the banal or, perhaps worse, propaganda. How it is perceived may have much to do with ones own history and past experiences (see Dufrenne reference above in note 03).

08 The notion of distancing (as described in note 07) applies to the political objects here as well.

These objects are first commercial products, sometimes curiosities, but never really art. The premeditated decision as to what ought to be expressed makes impossible the true expression that develops during the process of creation. (Collingwood 117)

09 It could be argued that, because much of this is what Collingwood refers to as “representational art”, one could not conclude that it is “Art proper” (116). This may be so but there is a space here for something else I not sure how to define. Eugene Veron writes that “it is the manifestation of the faculties and qualities [the artist] possesses which attracts and fascinates us” (54), but I think it’s also their existential nature, their place in human existence, and our desire to know the Other. In a way it’s like when Dufrenne writes of feeling as being-in-depth. There is a sense that in that unknown there is “some truth to discover, some secret to abduct from the heart of the object” (389-399). Yet to observe the object in a store or gallery does not bring us much closer to feeling. Feeling as being-in-depth requires the extrapolation of the object to a further idea, one that is difficult to attain, one that requires courage to approach the “hidden” (ibid). For when we seek to understand the Other we also approach the hidden in ourselves and get a little closer to an unknown. Dufrenne says that “depth is not what is farthest but what is the most difficult” (ibid) and primitive art makes us somehow journey to a place inside ourselves where we rarely go, to a primordial self, to the collective nature of man. It is this, rather than novelty, that creates the feeling and depth in the aesthetic objects of primitive art and craft.

10 As I write this I’m thinking of Hans-Georg Gadamer’s notion of play (94-96) and how it relates to some of these areas in design thinking and practice. I’m thinking of design process as play, in its experimental and iterative approaches to problem solving (Gadamer refers to a “tendency to repetition” by players). The “to-and-fro” in play seems applicable here, but also in the sense of looking at how we can incorporate play into collaborative and co-creative approaches. This is about allowing the process to dictate what course the “game” of designing takes. It’s not quite trial and error, more like allowing a natural course of action or activity within a defined set of rules (ibid). The outcome is never certain, but incorporating play might at least ensure some uniquely spontaneous and interesting results.

Works Cited—–

Collingwood, R.G. “The Nature of Beauty,” A Modern Book of Esthetics. An Anthology. Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1973

Dufrenne, Mikel. The Phenomenology of Aesthetic Experience. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1973

Gadamer, Hans-Georg. Truth and Method. New York: Crossroads, 1982

Langer, Susan K. Problems of Art. New York: Charles Scribner & Sons, 1957

Michau, Michael R. Edith Stein’s Contribution to a Phenomenology of Ethical (Self-)Revelation
Web access: web.ics.purdue.edu/~mmichau/Stein-revelation.pdf

Santayana, George. “The Nature of Beauty,” A Modern Book of Esthetics. An Anthology. Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1973

Veron, Eugene. “The Nature of Beauty,” A Modern Book of Esthetics. An Anthology. Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1973