Rio de la Plata

I Dreamed that the River was Silver.

Photographs taken during a month's residence in Uruguay

analog photography architecture ektar100 epsonscan filmsoup kodak400 Montevideo portrait uruguay

La intención de viajar a Uruguay era poder visitar a mi hermana que vivió en Montevideo casi dos años. Mi estadía la viví con algo de asombro porque era la gran ciudad con el menor número de habitantes que jamás había visto y acostumbrada a cierto sufrimiento de las dolorosas multitudes de São Paulo, no me pareció encontrar eso en Montevideo. Las ruinas de la ciudad eran fundamentales para su arquitectura, como si bendijera los nuevos edificios, como si las mansiones de 1800 todavía tuvieran el mismo uso y significado social que en sus inauguraciones. La música clásica y la música moderna parecían ser lo mismo. Las casas coloniales fueron ocupadas por jóvenes estudiantes que aun sin mucho dinero asumieron silenciosamente el cargo de maestros, no que la jerarquía social continuara, pero los edificios históricos no fueron demolidos, al contrario, la vida fue dinámica en seguir viviendo. Las viejas mansiones no estaban encantadas, sino dotadas de la magia de un pasado ardiente. La ciudad parecía un sueño, no porque fuera maravillosa, sino porque era pasiva y llena de elementos perturbadores, donde un río hecho de agua, por ejemplo, parecía hecho de Plata.

Mientras estaba en la capital leí Ciudades Invisibles de Italo Calvino, el Río del Plata asumió naturalmente el lugar de lo desconocido, se convirtió en una quimera, no porque fuera peligroso, sino porque era deslumbrante. Un río que parecía un océano, una manta, un río que parecía plateado. Era un río que engañaba a quienes dudaban de su poder bélico, un río que se conocía por ser el motivo de la mayor guerra de América Latina, la Guerra del Paraguay, era un río que no olvidó, así como la gelatina de plata de las películas, el río sabía que podía capturar el pasado.

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The intention of traveling to Uruguay was to be able to visit my sister who had been living in Montevideo for almost two years. My stay was lived with a certain amount of wonder because it was the big city with the fewest inhabitants that I had ever seen and used to a certain suffering of the painful crowds of São Paulo, it didn't seem to find that in Montevideo. The ruins of the city were fundamental to its architecture, as if it blessed the new buildings, as if the mansions of 1800 still had the same use and social meaning as the beginning of their inaugurations. Classical music and modern music seemed to be the same. The colonial houses were occupied by young students who, even without a lot of money, quietly assumed the position of masters, not that the social hierarchy continued, but the historical buildings were not overthrown, on the contrary, life was dynamic in continuing to inhabit the old mansions, they were not haunted but endowed with magic from a burning past. The city looked like a dream, not because it was wonderful, but because it was passive and full of disturbing elements, where a river made of water, for example, seemed made of Silver.

While I was in the capital I read Invisible Cities of Italo Calvino, the Rio Del Plata naturally assumed the place of the unknown, it became a chimera, not because it was dangerous but because it was stunning. A river that looked like an ocean, a blanket, a river that looked like silver. It was a river that deceived anyone who doubted its war power, a river that was known to have been the reason for the biggest war in Latin America, the Paraguayan War, it was a river that did not forget, as well as the silver gelatin of the films, the river knew he could capture the past.