top of page
EARTH
AMALAS
AMALAS is an independent group of women of different ages, professions, and trades, born in Lincoln, Buenos Aires Province, in 2019 with the aim of producing artistic creations for Carnival and giving visibility to a space that, for over 100 years of history, women had not occupied, a space to express their knowledge and ideas.
Amalas aims to contribute to the empowerment of the female sector and gender equality in the workplace, social, and artistic spheres.
It is, at the same time, a space for creation and building personal connections.
Amalas is a group of women artists and non-artists dedicated to the realization of a creative project through the mobilization of available resources and through the exchange of knowledge and perspectives.
The three driving forces behind this project are Laura Khalloub and Luciana Maccaroni (visual artists) and Julia Sigliano (actress and puppeteer).
HOW DID AMALAS COME INTO BEING? WHO COMPRISES THE WOMEN OF AMALAS? WHAT IS ITS RELATIONSHIP WITH CARNIVAL?
Before Amalas emerged, there was already a latent energy among our group of women.
We relished coming together without any obligations or deadlines, solely for the joy of sharing time and our art.
This laid the foundation for a close-knit, familial network comprising mothers, daughters, and friends.
We all hail from Linquene (Editor's note: from Lincoln, Buenos Aires Province), either by birth or because we've called it home since childhood.
Each of us has cherished the Carnival since our earliest memories.
There was already a shared sense of purpose, and the Amalas project emerged to give shape to and strengthen the presence of women who seek to contribute creatively and collectively to Carnival.
Our gatherings revolve around questions: Where do women fit into Carnival?
What roles can they play beyond being extras or dancers, or vying for the title of parade queen?
And why aren't women occupying the creative space, where the craftsmanship of floats offers a platform to express personal visions regarding the land and politics?
From these inquiries, the drive to create Amalas was born.
AMALAS - Lincoln, Buenos Aires province (Argentine)
We reside in a still quite "machista" region, where the voices of women seldom surface prominently.
The prevalent viewpoint is that of men, their work taking precedence.
Hence, we were convinced that the aesthetics of our creations and the issues we'd address would be groundbreaking and inherently significant.
The simple act of women, such as ourselves, infiltrating this creative domain disrupts and challenges the entrenched tradition of the parade, which often perpetuates a fundamentally misogynistic mindset through floats, masks, and especially through "carnestolendos" (humorous quips accompanying the parade intended to evoke smiles from everyone—women, men, elders, youth, and children). We find this attitude unacceptable, and we refuse to respond with a mere smile.
Particularly amidst ongoing discourse and heightened awareness in Argentina regarding the fight for gender equality, it's astonishing that such a demeaning portrayal of female identity persists within the Carnival context.
Hence, our presence among the "carroceros," traditionally a male domain since 1928, when the first float parades commenced here in Lincoln, disrupts and redefines this deeply ingrained cultural norm, challenging not only the "carroceros" themselves but also the broader audience.
AMALAS - Pachamama, Toxic Relationships - February 2020
HOW WAS AMALAS RECEIVED BY THE LOCAL COMMUNITY?
The first time we stepped into a meeting of the "carroceros," we were halted and told, "Girls, extras aren't allowed in here!"
We countered, asserting that we weren't mere extras; we were artisans, present as carroceras.
Their surprise was palpable, yet their response was to dismiss us, to underestimate our capabilities, allowing us to proceed albeit with doubts.
At our inaugural participation in 2020, we clinched the top prize from the jury, comprised of Lincoln representatives and Carnival professionals from other Argentine provinces. From then on, they've had to acknowledge our presence.
However, in their eyes, we aren't genuine artisans; our floats aren't authentic, and our papier-mâché isn't genuine.
While Carnival aesthetics often veer towards caricature, ours takes a different path.
Typically, floats encompass themes of national politics or celebrity gossip, focusing on external subjects rather than local terrain.
Conversely, we've opted to explore issues pertinent to our locale, aiming to convey our critical perspective and provoke discussion.
We had to start from scratch: floats are traditionally weighty, and carroceros typically rely on vans operated by mechanics and farmers, lending their expertise and machinery.
We began with what we knew best: tilling the soil of our fields, sourcing lightweight materials and mechanisms, loads we could bear with our bodies.
In essence, we shattered conventions, hence their struggle to recognize us.
AMALAS - Toxic Relationships - Group Meeting.
WE NOW TURN TO THE CONNECTION WITH THE LAND AND THE TECHNIQUES YOU USE TO CRAFT YOUR MASKS. HOW DID THIS PRACTICE ORIGINATE, AND WHAT SIGNIFICANCE DOES IT HOLD FOR YOU?
This technique was introduced to the region by Professor Enrique Urcola in 1928. Although the carnival had been established for at least a decade prior, it wasn't until then that the first masks and floats made their appearance.
Urcola, a graduate of the Academy of Fine Arts and the set designer at the Teatro Colón in Buenos Aires, arrived in Lincoln in the late 1920s. Over the course of 45 years, he brought about significant creative and social change through his work and teachings, even founding a community school.
When Urcola sought a way to increase the size of the masks, he conceived the idea of sculpting them horizontally in mud and then removing the mold from there.
As we mentioned earlier, as a collective, we had to rely on our own resources and strengths. Initially, we lacked a dedicated space and would convene in the courtyards of our homes. It was then that we decided to utilize this technique, starting with the soil from our own gardens.
The theme of our float revolved around urgent issues in agro-ecology, fumigation, and the dominance of economic interests over environmental conservation.
In many ways, everything began to align: from the conceptual to the practical, alongside a nod to tradition, embodied by figures like Professor Urcola, whom we were honored to pay tribute to.
The notion that the mask representing the earth should emerge from the very earth itself struck a powerful and cohesive chord with us.
At the start, we were a small group, with Julia Sigliano in charge of scenic art, Laura Khalloub and Luciana Maccaroni in charge of visual arts and crafts, and Fernanda Martinez in charge of communications, so we wondered who we could offer to collaborate with.
Our initial meetings drew around twenty women spanning all generations, from the elderly to young children.
Enrique Urcola - Carnaval of Lincoln - 1928
The mere suggestion of working the land immediately sparked significant participation and collaboration.
Some brought shovels and rakes, while others offered their lawns, and a few even provided access to heavy equipment like backhoes.
As we delved into the project, we quickly realized that the soils in Lincoln varied widely - some were rich in clay, while others were sandy.
Consequently, we had to carefully assess which soil was best suited for our sculpting endeavors.
What followed was a period of extensive experimentation - a hands-on, creative journey that both challenged us and acquainted us intimately with the materials we were working with. It was a thrilling yet sometimes daunting process.
For example, when we began crafting the face of Pachamama, one of the three central characters for our inaugural carnival, we encountered unexpected challenges.
Persistent rain threatened to ruin our work, forcing us to shield the sculpture with plastic sheets for several days.
Upon finally unveiling it, however, we were met with disappointment - the face had been marred and distorted beyond recognition.
Undeterred, we persevered, albeit with caution.
With the weather turning unbearably hot, we took a brief hiatus from the field to regroup.
Upon our return, we were greeted with a surprising sight - plants had sprouted from the partially sculpted earth, and an anthill had formed in another area.
Nature had reclaimed its territory, imprinting itself onto our creation.
Realizing the need for a more controlled environment, we secured the use of a warehouse.
Here, we painstakingly reworked Pachamama's face from scratch, breathing new life into our vision.
AMALAS - Building Pachamama.
LET'S TALK ABOUT THE FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE LINCOLN CARNIVAL:
WHAT WAS THE IDEA BEHIND THE PERFORMANCE? HOW WERE YOU RECEIVED?
The title of our inaugural show was "Toxic Relationships." It featured three main characters: Pachamama, representing Mother Earth; glyphosate, the agrochemical; and Man, caught in the middle, torn between the nurturing embrace of nature and the allure of profit.
Each of these characters, towering in size, was accompanied by smaller, supporting figures. Pachamama was flanked by the Sun and the Moon, while Man was followed by bees and insects threatened by the poisons of modern agriculture. Glyphosate, on the other hand, was trailed by pests and smoke.
Addressing this theme was imperative for us. We inhale the fumes of these toxins daily, fully cognizant of their deleterious effects on both our health and the environment. It felt essential to shed light on a local issue that often goes unnoticed.
The response to our floats was impassioned. On one hand, farmers and those involved in the grain market, recognizing the criticism implicit in our portrayal, greeted us with resentful stares, embodying a sense of denial and resistance.
On the other hand, there were those who applauded enthusiastically, appreciating not only the aesthetic and artistic beauty of our floats but also the courage to broach sensitive topics within the carnival setting.
Lincoln grapples with significant challenges stemming from these issues, which jeopardize the well-being of our community. For instance, the arsenic-contaminated water in our area renders it undrinkable, forcing us all to rely on store-bought alternatives. These are the pressing concerns that we sought to highlight.
Each character was accompanied by a song, serving as a vehicle for explicit yet ironic commentary on the issues at hand.
However, the most profound impact came from the presence of women. As we paraded, 60 women of all ages, the women in the audience rose to their feet in solidarity, creating a powerful moment of collective empowerment that resonated deeply.
AMALAS - The Man, the Sun, and the Moon, Toxic Relationships - February 2020
WITH THESE SAME FLOATS, YOU ALSO TOOK PART IN AN EVENT UNRELATED TO THE CARNIVAL, ON AUGUST 1ST, TO CELEBRATE PACHAMAMA DAY. WHAT OCCURRED?
During the height of the pandemic, organizing this outing and securing the necessary permits proved to be incredibly challenging, as we had to navigate numerous safety restrictions.
The decision to do so was ours, as Pachamama Day is no longer celebrated in Lincoln. While it continues to be observed in some northern provinces, such as Cordoba, it has fallen out of practice here.
However, we believed it was imperative to shed light on this theme at a time unrelated to Carnival, particularly amid the global pandemic.
Despite facing criticism, we remained determined and ultimately succeeded in our endeavor.
The experience was profoundly impactful, vastly different from Carnival. Unlike the nighttime festivities characterized by lights, music, and bustling streets, our August 1st parade took place during the daylight hours, with the city streets eerily deserted.
Nevertheless, we were joined by some individuals who happened to be out, and their participation was deeply moving. As we traversed a wide route, including the main square as we do during Carnival, onlookers leaned out of windows, gathered at their doorsteps, applauded, snapped photos, and many were visibly moved, some even brought to tears by the unexpected spectacle.
As word spread throughout different neighborhoods, more people joined our procession, resulting in a profoundly touching display of community solidarity.
AMALAS - Pachamama Celebration - Lincoln - August 1, 2020
SINCE THEN, HOW HAS THE PROJECT EVOLVED, AND WHAT ECONOMIC SUSTAINABILITY HAS IT ACHIEVED?
We had a really great start.
At our first carnival in 2020, with Relaciones Toxicas, we grew to 60 women.
We worked by joining forces, each of us bringing what we could: flour for the glues, newsprint, the earth; some shopkeepers supported us in exchange for publicity and gave us paint; we set up everything with a minimal outlay, the only investment was the rent for the technical equipment for the sound.
We told ourselves: we'll earn something!
We went out every night of the carnival and entered the competition and won first prize, it was really amazing.
But the pandemic was just around the corner and within a very short time all that energy was gone.
We had a fund thanks to the prize, (which is cash ed.) but Carnival 2021 seemed to be non-existent, so we thought of ways to reinvent ourselves, despite the restrictions and distancing.
We did the outing with Pachamama in August and then we started a project for the carnival of individual masks, which was called: Who said there is no carnival?, so that the collective of women in Amalas could also work individually and at a distance, and with that we went out on the streets.
In 2022, we participated in the Carnaval es Cultura programme with the show Toxic Relations at the Teatro Argentino in the city of La Plata.
Last year, in 2023, we founded ourselves as a cooperative and decided to participate in the Carnival but not in the competition, to claim certain non-negotiable values of our group.
We wrote a public charter in which we declare that cultural action should be subsidised not as an end product or a result to be rewarded.
Cultural action is a process and must be supported in its premises. We speak not in a personal capacity for Amalas but rather claiming a right for all the women and men who work for Carnival and who deserve to be supported and endorsed by cultural policies.
We paraded for three evenings with the show No todos es color de rosa, an interactive show with three 4-metre high puppets for which we received a special mention.
For 2024, we planned the work well in advance and were already in the middle of creation in November, so that we arrived this February with a new challenge and the show: Un mundo con Alma.
The main character is a 5-metre tall puppet: Alma, a curious and extrovert little girl who carefully observes people. Her size inverts points of view: it is childhood that observes us, questions us, invites us to reflect. We wanted to emphasise the importance of play in childhood, as an experiential moment in which the child has the opportunity to manifest its creative resources.
AMALAS - Alma - Carnaval of Lincoln - February 2024
LET'S TALK ABOUT THE FUTURE: WHAT DREAMS AND DESIRES DO YOU HAVE FOR AMALAS?
Our desire is to continue advancing this project with its free and ever-evolving nature.
Ideally, we would like to have the resources to one day acknowledge our professional work and that of those who collaborate with us professionally, and to cover all the expenses and costs that the creation of floats and participation in carnival events inevitably entail.
Without asking for any personal financial effort from participants.
We want the only contributions everyone makes to be their passion, the desire to be together, to create collectively, to exchange thoughts, reflections, experiences, and knowledge through art and craftsmanship.
AMALAS - Alma - February 2024
LINKOGRAPHY
bottom of page