La Jornada: Crushed cans keep the memory of violence and exclusion in Palestine

A crushed can saves the memory of a blow. The defeated surface, the dull shine and the marks of the compressed aluminum reveal constant pressure.

In East Jerusalem, a Palestinian territory under Israeli occupation, Rodrigo Ímaz found in that waste a way to read the violence inscribed in daily life. “It seemed to me that the most honest thing was not to modify anything, to let the evidence speak for itself,” he explained in an interview with The Day.

From that look arose Palestine cans, exhibition made up of nearly 70 pieces, presented at the Cultural Center of Spain in Mexico (CCEmx), built from objects collected in streets where even garbage reveals forms of exclusion.

The project took shape during a residency held in 2017 at ArtCube Studios. For almost two months, Ímaz (Mexico City, 1982) toured the Palestinian area of ​​the city every day: he walked among torn bags, avoided debris scattered on the pavement and observed how the traffic ended up crushing the scattered aluminum.

The artist detected material differences that outlined a persistent separation. “There is not the same lighting, there are no sidewalks and the collection is irregular,” he recalled. From that landscape emerged what he defined as “an archeology of waste.”

Disposable

At the beginning, interest came from engraving. He thought the cans could function as matrices. He studied the textures of aluminum and made impressions to record reliefs. He began to transfer the object to paper, studying its marks. The discovery took another direction when identifying a recurring detail: the symbol “One Shekel”, in reference to the Israeli currency.

That inscription established a decisive difference: the cans with that distinctive could be recycled within the system, while the others were left out. Aluminum stopped being a raw material and became a disposable material due to its origin.

The work then acquired another weight within the investigation. The relationship between waste and territory opened a reading on the living conditions in East Jerusalem, where permits regulate mobility, access to services and permanence.

In this space, categories of citizens are established, as well as materials that are accepted or discarded. The crushing appears as a metaphor for the violence exerted on the Palestinian population.

For Sol Vargas, curator of the exhibition, the bond became one of the nuclei. “It was not only about waste, but about what those elements revealed. There is a very strong relationship between that gesture and the way in which life is conditioned.”

The objects function as records of a constant pressure inscribed in everyday life and allow a comparison to be established between this crushing and that of a body or a form of life. As they move from one side of the city to the other, they fall outside of a system that determines what can become alive again and what cannot.

The proposal includes 35 photographs printed on aluminum, documentary images, embossings and a display case with original elements collected during the residency. It allows you to observe both the process and the environment from which they emerged. Ímaz presented it from the beginning as a documentary exercise: “I was interested in the can functioning as a document, not as a representation.”

Among the images appears that of a man sitting on the remains of his home. The story arose from approaching organizations that accompanied Palestinian inhabitants in conflicts over housing and services.

After years of complying with requirements imposed by the Israeli administration, he built a house for his family and was ordered to destroy it: he was forced to demolish his own home. Before the shot, he asked to pose in front of the rubble of the entrance. The scene remained as a record of that moment.

“That episode marked me deeply and ended up reinforcing the idea that crushed aluminum condenses greater violence,” the artist noted.

The line of work extends to medium-length films John dogs (2016), screened as part of the exhibition. A man survives in the desert by collecting waste; His testimony, marked by a near-death experience, prolongs the exploration where these materials function as a social archive and field of reading.

Ímaz insisted on the need to name what is usually avoided. “There are topics that are not named, that are avoided out of prejudice or discomfort,” he warned. “What we don’t talk about doesn’t get resolved, and what we don’t talk about during the day doesn’t go away overnight.”

Palestine cans It can be visited at the Cultural Center of Spain in Mexico (Republic of Guatemala 18, Centro Historico neighborhood, Cuauhtémoc mayor’s office) from Tuesday to Friday from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m., Saturdays from 10 a.m. to 9 p.m. and Sundays from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Admission is free and will end on June 28.