Posted by Jason Ahlenius — PhD Student of Spanish and Portuguese at NYU
She grew impatient when I did it for the second time. «¡Ay! Por favor, no hagas eso». Please don’t do that. But I did it. I broke the rules. I touched the photographic originals. I desecrated Mexico’s visual patrimony.
I have finally before me a physical object from the archive, a national relic, and it is as if the object itself is reaching out to me to connect with it, to make an affective connection through the body. Yet like the disciplinary-religious space of the art museum, however, there is an invisible barrier between my unclean hands and the sacred object. I retract my hands. I can only make the connection through the visual field.
Posted by Jason Ahlenius – Ph.D. student in Spanish and
Portuguese at NYU
I have begun to see a pattern in my “explorations” of Mexico’s archives: I arrive at the archive, and spend several days figuring out how to gain access to the archive, or searching through the catalog, only to have someone tell me that they have digitalized most of their collection, and that I could have done this work without leaving NYC. I leave disheartened that I was denied the chance to do the “sexy” work of digging through a physical archive with my latex gloves and a mask. This was more or less my experience at my first visit to the Archivo Fotográfico Manuel Toussaint, located in the Instituto de Investigaciones Estéticas (IIE) of the UNAM in Mexico City.
began, rather idealistically, with an idea of archival research similar to that
of a treasure map: I have a more or less clear idea of what I am looking for,
and I follow a series of instructions to arrive at the “X” on the map, where my
archive is hidden. My actual experience is often more akin to being dropped in
the middle of a forest, not knowing exactly what I will find, while I am trying
to make a map of my surroundings as I am trying to arrive at a city of whose
whereabouts I am oblivious.