The person you see in the photo is Astro. To tell the story of her life, you have to name regions at the extremes and frontiers of Colombian geography. A visitor from towns eight days away from Bogotá, she has got to know plants, resins, fibres, fruits, seeds and all kinds of materials that are used every day in indigenous communities. Objects, forms, and uses that lose validity. Creations which disappear with the arrival of new utilities, the majority from the plastics industry.
This is how the sieve the grandmothers used to use to strain juice or sift flour was replaced by a strainer. If you are lucky enough to have one of those grandmothers who holds on to everything, you might still find close to you artisanal materials and instruments that open the door to the past, to a memory which is also yours. So, you ask yourself things that enrich your world and your vocabulary: What is this object called? What’s it for? What’s it made of? Who made it and where?
Maybe this is the great power of craftwork: to generate questions. Hand-made objects which come into our lives and invite us to ask ourselves about their creators. Tikuna woodworkers, Piaroa weavers, Sikuani potters. Colombians like us. Close neighbours of a nature which is generous in materials which we know but rarely name: Chiquichiqui or Piassava fiber palm, Moriche palm, piragua reed, the woody grass yaré, and even the Bloodwood tree. So objects talk. Their presence questions sharp observers, attracts awakened senses and, beyond pure decoration, affirm that the unknown is not that far away; sometimes it is hidden, forgotten, in family cupboards and drawers.
Astro’s eyes have looked across landscapes that many of us have only seen in photos. Her hands have touched fibres, resins, and materials which one day not long from now will be watched over by the museum’s famous “do not touch” signs. A professional in textiles, and temporary member of organizations such as the Fundación Etnollano, the Fundación Zio-A’i, the Mayor’s Office of Inírida and Artesanías de Colombia; she has woven through her professional experience connections and friendships with artisans from regions like the Amazon and the Orinoco. Today, she developes her a own project, sharing knowledge and unique objects through Amahia, in Tibasosa, Boyaca.
The objects which you see on this page are a small sample of her travels and meetings. Pimpinas, stoves, baskets, bags which cut through her personal history and which arrive in Bogotá full of stories. Traditions and beliefs which make the invisible visible, and name out of silence that which most of us omit. Stories which get lost or which get left behind like maternal surnames. In Astro’s case – a singular case – this surname clarifies her spirit and reinforces her special nickname: Fagua, which in Muisca means star, guide between possible paths.
