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The Project and the Documentaries:Two Distinct and Complementary Dimensions of the

"VIDEO IN THE VILLAGES" Project

Vincent Carelli*

Documenting the Project: A Question of Survival

The "Video in the Villages" Project was created in the context of the activities ofthe Centro de Trabalho Indigenista (Center for Work with Indigenous Peoples), a non-governmental organization which for the past twenty years has supported Brazilianindigenous communities with such initiatives as the demarcation of indigenous land,as well as economic and educational programs. The main objective of the videoproject has been to make video accessible to indigenous people as a tool for

information, communication, and expression (1). It has given a number of villagesvideo equipment, trained young people in how to use it, and established a network oftape distribution and exchange between villages.

When I initiated the project, in addition to being a militant indigenist and aphotographer, I also had a personal ambition to produce my own videos. Hence, Ibecame both the executor of the project in the villages and an apprentice of video anddocumentary. I also served as producer for the project and the documentaries,assuming the responsibility of fundraising for both levels of activity. Parallel to theformation of this communications network in the villages, we produced a series ofdocumentaries that show our methodology and the impact of the program in thesecommunities.

It was during this process that I became aware of how much making thesedocumentaries was a matter of survival for the project itself in that it gave the projectthe visibility it needed to procure support and resources that were indispensable forits execution. The continuity of the work that involved indigenous people directly (whichwas begun on an experimental basis and developed with entirely non-professionaltechnical resources) was guaranteed through this self-documentation, carried outwith increasingly professional resources for a growing public.

The first experiment conducted in late 1987 among the Nambiquara wasextremely well received by the indigenous people. We brought video to the communityand held daily recording/screening routines, leaving ourselves open to theirresponse. This generated instant and growing feedback among them. The Indians

soon took over the directing, and the only thing I had to do was follow them as theybegan to present themselves the way they wanted to see themselves, and be seen.

*Vincent Carelli is a co-founder of the Centro de Trabalho Indigenista (Center for Work with Indigenous Peoples,

est. 1979) and since 1987 coordinator of the "Video in the Villages" Project. This text was written during his

residency at the Center for Media, Culture, and History at New York University while on a grant from the

Environmental Program of the United Nations (UNEP/UN) during April, 1995. Translated from the Portuguese byCatherine Benamou and Kathleen Fleming.


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Due to my inexperience with the camera, when we got back to Sao Paulo we had adocument that certainly was not commensurate with the collective trance and deliriumthe experiment had generated. Even so, the material was sufficiently expressive forme to edit my first documentary, and thereby make clear the potential of work which inthis case contributed to reviving a lip- and nose-piercing ceremony that had not beenpractised for the last twenty years.

Although it was made with a conventional video language, this video proved tobe much more effective in obtaining financing for the program than were the writtenproposals we had submitted up to that point had been. Using only text, it was difficultto convince funding agencies - especially the European foundations which hadfunded other CTI projects - of the consistency and efficacy of an apparentlyparadoxical proposal: how could a movement to reaffirm traditional cultural values inindigenous societies be strengthened using technology that was alien to them andintroduced from the outside?

The video TheGirlsCelebration(A Festa daMoa, 1987) made it clear to methat the visual documentation of our work with indigenous people, developed in aseries of videos explaining the project for a non-indigenous audience, would serve asa promotional tool, and thus as the sustaining mechanism for the project itself. Fromthat point on, producing this series became an ongoing secondary aspect of theproject - an independent, yet complementary component that was vital to sustainingthe video work with the Indians.

For example, the short titled "Video in the Villages" (the third work in the series)was edited in haste at the end of 1989, just before my first trip to the United States insearch of financial support for the project. Made with the most impressive fragmentsfrom my first two videos along with some other footage, it helped me overcomedifficulty I had expressing myself in English, and in a brief interview, to synthesize ourprocedures and the different ways indigenous communities appropriated themedium. Once it was finished, however, it began to function beyond this immediate

purpose. It became an authentic portfolio for the project, and gained enormousvisibility in cultural sectors interested in alternative communications projects.

From Apprentice to Mediamaker: Expanding Distribution

I then decided to produce a more consistent description of the project. Takingadvantage of an opportunity I had to introduce the project to a new group, the Waiapi, Ishot the video screenings in the village in an attempt to record their responses. Thiswork resulted in TheSpiritof TV (O Espirito da TV, the fourth of the series, 1990), atape that conveyed the entire range of reflections which video had catalyzed amongthe Waiapi (2).

Edited in a more progressive style, eliminating the voiceover and letting theIndians express themselves spontaneously in their own language, TheSpirit of TVshows how the screenings stimulated discussions concerning - among otherthemes - the redefinition of their own identity in relation to others. Of particularsignificance was the growth of a pan-indigenous national consciousness rooted inthe similar historical processes experienced by each group since contact, and in theircommon problems. As well, there were the political questions they had concerningthe manipulation of the image: who is going to see us? how should they see us? etc.


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Breaking out of the "ghetto" of indigenous and ethnographic festivals (3) andAnthropology and Communications departments The Spirit of TVopened up broaderspaces for distribution. After receiving awards at foreign festivals and at the twolargest Brazilian festivals (which generally shun conventional documentaries onindigenous people), it began to be broadcast on public television stations (TVCultura/Sao Paulo, Funtelpa/Par) and even on French and Belgian commercial

television (Canal +).

Distribution is a slow process, yet it grows exponentially: with each new step,you are not exhausting a possibility, but opening up new ones. After a certain point,the production begins to have a life of its own. Beyond the videomaker's intiatives, thework of five non-exclusive distributors in Canada, the United States and Europe,coupled with word-of-mouth, distribution in universities, and the multiplying effect ofmore traditional festivals, special screenings, and retrospectives...all of this steadilyexpanded the distribution possibilities of the videotapes.

This work with Native people began to extend to new communities and take onnew forms. Through video, each group became acquainted with other indigenousgroups previously unknown to them, and with whom they felt great affinity due to theirlinguistic and cultural similarities. For example, upon discovering groups which stillmaintain more traditional ways of life, the Waiapi and the Gaviao expressed theirdesire to go meet them so they could strengthen relations.

So we organized several inter-village encounters, and from there emergedMeetingAncestors(A Arca dos Zo'e, 1993) and We Gather as a Family(Eu J FuiSeu Irmao, 1993), which, like The Spirit of TV, were constructed exclusively on thebasis of the indigenous peoples' statements. Meeting Ancestors, about the exchangebetween a visiting entourage of Waiapi and members of a Zoe village, met with greatsuccess, perhaps because of its narrative structure, but primarily because it broughtto the screen an insight into the relationship between indigenous peoples. Thisgenerated renewed interest in the project on the part of international festivals and

public television networks which had screened the trilogy, as this group of videoscame to be called.

The expansion of distribution continues to replenish the credibility of theproject, which, like any enterprise, cannot survive without good marketing. As difficultas it is to admit, we can knock ourselves out demonstrating how important thisexperiment is for indigenous people, but if we do not produce a product for non-Nativeviewers which can be shared on a much broader level, those who view things fromthe outside, it will all be considered a useless effort. I get the impression thatfoundations dedicate much more effort and resources to establishing connectionsbetween experiments on a global level - international meetings, distribution - than tosupporting more locally focused projects. In supporting a very localized project theyfeel theyre throwing money into a black hole - especially when it concerns

consciousness-raising processes, the results of which are intangible. In contrast,they feel theyre optimizing their investments working at the global level.

The publicity around the series also took on an added dimension (which is justas important as the ones already mentioned) by spreading the example, the idea, themethod to other support groups, be they indigenous groups or popular movements,generally speaking. This is not to say that "Video in the Villages" was the precursor ofthose efforts, since similar experiments had proliferated all over the world well beforeits existence; rather, the fact of making extensive documentation of a successful


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experiment accessible has certainly encouraged new initiatives. To that end, we havereceived several requests from within Brazil and other Latin American countries, andwe are therefore producing two versions of the entire series in Spanish - one subtitledfor distribution by support groups and the other in voice-over for exhibition in thevillages.

The propaganda often makes the project appear bigger than it is in reality,creating an illusion of a big communication network, when in fact it is a smallexperiment. But then the illusion turns the idea itself into a reality. And it was throughthis propaganda that suddenly a local public TV station called us to work on an IndianProgram. I then convinced them that instead of producing a program on the Indianswe should work on something with the Indians. So we are about to start a thirddimension of the project, opening a window for a communication between the Indiancommunities of Mato Grosso and the urban audience, an experiment completely newin the Brazilian mediascape.

Feedback from the North American Public

Two factors have prompted me to return frequently to the United States. First, itwas the place where my work was always received with the most enthusiasm. TheNorth American foundations, always attentive to the issue of giving a voice tomarginalized populations and ethnic minorities, made possible the continuation ofthis work through donations, made either on an institutional level to the project or onan individual level in the form of artist's grants.

Secondly, the United States and Canada are perhaps the countries where thedistribution of independent productions via theatrical exhibition in numerous festivalsand thematic screenings is best articulated, and the use of audiovisual resources inteaching the most intense, especially in universities. I have always tried to plan myagenda in this way, combining visits to foundations for the purpose of negotiating

financial support with the theatrical exhibition of works which today, as incredible as itmay seem, are better known in the United States than in Brazil.

Upon submitting a piece for consideration by an audience I did not know when Iproduced the videos, it became clear how an assemblage of images contained in adocumentary can stir up a range of sentiments, moral and ethical values, concepts,and ideas that work to extrapolate "objective content," the explicit message of thevideos. What is the background of this audience? My apprenticeship in this field cameabout in response to questioning by the audience in relation to my work on one hand,and to what I could observe in the emergent production of Native North Americans onthe other, which offered a panoramic view of the particular situation of NativeAmericans in these countries.

Native North American mediamakers have produced documentaries and fictionfilms that critically examine how representations of indigenous peoples produced bythe cultural industry have been reflected in stereotypes that permeate currentinterethnic relations and vice versa(4,5,6,7,8). For me, these productions acted as abarometer of existing tensions in the relations between Indians and non-Indians, andhelped me understand the origin of many questions raised by the North Americanpublic in relation to my work. Of course, as a white mediamaker, I am questionedthrough the lens of those tensions.


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Here, I will give a brief summary of the questions that most commonly recurfollowing screenings of "Video in the Villages." Some resemble questions raised byBrazilian and European audiences, and others are very specific to the North Americancontext. I think much of my audience is attracted by the current fascination for the"Rainforest" and the exoticism of its inhabitants. People come with curiosity - whichthey often no longer feel in relation to their own indigenous people; at the same time,

they take the socio-political and cultural context of the Native North Americans as aframe of reference. This context includes tensions affecting interracial relations, thestereotypes associated with Indians such as alcoholism and violence, the Nativemovement to regain control over their own images, etc (9).

I believe that in any audience there will always be someone who asks the mostextravagant questions having nothing to do with the subject of the video, such as, whydo Indians paint themselves red and not blue. Since indigenous ceremonies often setthe stage for documentaries, there is always some anthropologist (or amateur)saying they would like to see a more thorough treatment or be given explanationsabout a certain ritual without realizing that the focus here is on the communicationproject and not the ceremonies. Setting aside the more exotic questions, let usproceed to the recurring ones:

How was itpossibleto construct arelationshipwithIndiansthatseemsso friendlyand intimate? Did you just arrive there to shoot, for how long, what were theIndians'reactions?

This question always comes from a student or mediamaker who has alreadyexperienced difficulty obtaining access to the "other", and who has sensed how mucha camera can interfere even more within the relationship. Since the act ofdocumenting is an intervention usually conducted from the outside in, to overcomethis distance between subject and object it is necessary to invest an enormousamount of time in research, but above all in living with them so as to establish arelationship of friendship and trust with the "other."

Our video project did not come out of the blue. It did not develop as an isolatedrelationship, a negotiated arrangement for the purpose of shooting or anything likethat. Instead, it originated out of a core relationship developed over years, a livingrelationship, centered around cooperation between indigenous and non-indigenouspeople, and forged for the purpose of confronting vital problems such as demarcationand protection of reservations from intruders, finding means of subsistence andfostering integration in the national economy, and developing strategies fornegotiating with the government in order to obtain access to health and education.

What distinguishes my relationship to indigenous people in the field is the factthat I bring something to them. This is not just in relation to the video project; itinvolves years of interaction and political militancy in support of indigenousorganizations. I don't go there to "expropriate" their images. On the contrary, theobjective is to offer them the instruments with which they can gain access to theirimages, to develop and recreate their own image. The procedure whereby theseimages are immediately shown to them leads them to appropriate the camera. Thisoccurs both indirectly, from the moment they begin to direct my camera, and directly,during a second phase, when the camera is handed over to them.

Why is there no evidence of difficulty in relationship to the camera? Becausethe relationship to the camera is the point of departure for everything. The presence of


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the camera is what is creating, what is instigating the recording. For this reason, notonly do people feel comfortable with the camera, they interact with it and oftenaddress it explicitly and directly. The camera is not transparent; it is more than a"presence," it is one of the actors on the stage. Often, the "politically correct" patrol islurking behind this question. Many times, the following kinds of questions are moretrenchant:

Did theIndianssee the videos once they had been edited?Do they know you arepresenting their imageinthis way?

At the end of several presentations, we were submitted to a veritable inquisitionconcerning our ethical conduct. It seems to me that this excess of protectionism is themodern version of paternalism. At times, the non-Indian public, concerned with beingpolitically correct, can be more sensitive and vigilant than the Indians themselves. Ingeneral, Native people have rarely attended my talks or classroom presentations inCanada and the US, partly because they are held in non-Native institutions, but a fewhaveappeared on occasion. In Chicago, I had the satisfaction of meeting a NativeCanadian who approached me after the screening and very warmly told me that,through the images, he had been able to sense the Indians' confidence in me. Forsome this is crystal clear in the videos; for others, it is not.

In relation to Meeting Ancestors, there was some question like: since ourintervention seems to be so important in the process, why do we hide behind thecamera? In this case, the patrol is pursuing another issue - not that I am manipulatingthe image of indigenous people, but rather that I am misleading the audience. Intrying to show the effect video has in generating social dynamics like this, I amsupposedly misrepresenting these events as authentic, initiated by the Indiansthemselves.

What doindigenouspeopledemandinexchange?

What is the deal? I think it is impossible tojudge from outside what is politicallycorrect in this kind of relationship, not to mention establish norms such as feestructures whereby from now on, you have to pay a set amount in order to shoot in anindigenous community. Yet it is also impossible to assume the posture that "I amgiving these people a voice," seeing to it that the public is made aware of theirproblems, etc., so "therefore, I am making my contribution." Apart from theassumptions about power inherent in one party giving voice to another, thisstatement is tantamount to saying: "I'm great, the Indians should thank me for givingthem this opportunity." But there must be a form of exchange in the relationship -affective, monetary, whatever.

At one of my screenings, I made a statement which became a kind of

provocation for certain documentary-makers who were justifying themselves as voice-givers. Upon presenting the encounters videos (Meeting Ancestorsand We Gather asaFamily), I commented on the fact that the Indians opportunity to meet each otherwas much more important to them than the documentaries that we subsequentlyproduced. The audience reacted by saying that I was underestimating the value of thevideos to raise public consciousness, etc., etc., etc. To which I responded, causingfurther irritation, that public consciousness-raising is important for public opinion, andthe documentaries are good for us, but in no way will they alter the lives of theindigenous people.


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I have benefited greatly as a videomaker,: the satisfaction of seeing workcompleted, receiving awards and recognition, massages my ego. Prior to makingthese documentaries, I would never have had the opportunity to travel around theworld. But the exchange also helps provide the Indians with access to all thisinformation and equipment to make their own experiments and connect themselvesto so many other groups.

Byshowing the Indians in this way, aren't you afraid of reinforcing pre-existingstereotypes?

While audiences seem to expect Indians to pose as victims, as a way ofexpressing their compassion and solidarity for them, we find on the contrary thatIndians think out their strategies of representation so as to appear very strong, evenaggressive toward colonizers or invaders. Most of the documentaries and TV reportsproduced in Brazil on indigenous people tend, on one hand, to create a mystifiedimage of the "good savage," and on the other, to lament: they are losing their lands,their culture, their language,etc...

For me, ithas

always been crucial to show just theopposite.

First, that theIndians do not go about life crying into their soup; quite the contrary: happiness,games, and clowning around are aspects of their daily lives. This is a characteristicwhich has been labeled the "ingenuity, innocence of the savage" (rural Brazilians whohave lived among indigenous populations always say: "the Indian is a child").Secondly, they are not passive victims in this process of change; on the contrary, theyare fully conscious of the process of change they are experiencing. There is a wholediscussion and internal dynamic at work between generations, incorporating somethings from outside, rejecting others, preserving the memory of certain traditions andabandoning others.

In trying to explode the myth of the "good savage" and the rhetoric of the victimby showing things the way they are, you inevitably touch very sensitive issues such as

alcoholism, sexuality, and violence around which the negative stereotypes of Indianshave been built. Yet, in the end, if we are speaking about the "other," it is necessary toshow the differences and not to mask them.

The question of appearing drunk on camera is discussed, for example, by theindigenous people themselves in the video The Spirit of TV. A Canadian distributorturned down the video, saying that I had disrespected the wishes of the Indians byincluding that scene and that the Canadian public would condemn the video for beingpolitically incorrect. I am in disagreement with all of this, first, because at that moment,there were divergent opinions among the Indians on this subject; and secondly,because Waiwai's own opinion changes from one moment to the next. Therefore, I didnot commit any disloyal act by including the scene. Recently, in the first videoproduced by the Waiapi themselves to be shown to a non-Indian audience, theyappear completely drunk from beginning to end. This is simply because the video isabout festivities, and, as Kasiripina the author himself, explains, for the Waiapi,drunkenness at a celebration is a socially and culturally valued attitude.

By showing you the Indians strategies in manipulating their own image, am Ihanding the goods over to the enemy? I think the enemies the Indians have in mindwhen they conceive these strategies of self-representation - the goldminers or thelumberers of the region - certainly do not form part of my audience. My point is


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precisely to show how their evolving discussion around self-representation is aconscious one.

One person was shocked by the gratuitous, "violent murder" of the goldminersacted out in a short dramatized segment by the Enauene Naue in VideoCannibalism(AntropofagiaVisual). I find it funny that people who think it is perfectly natural to watch

hundreds of films in which Indians are killed by the dozen can think that the massacreof two goldminers invading an indigenous reservation is shocking. The public seemsnot to be aware of the scale, intensity and violence of the conflicts that are occurring inthe Amazon today. Sometimes shock can be a good way to confront reality;furthermore, this play-acting is nothing compared to what is really going on.

Whydontthe women speak inyour tapes? Is there a woman shootingas part ofthe project? Would it have been different if the video had been presented by awoman?

This question crops up in almost all the screenings Ive had, and its recurrenceis inevitable in North American audiences. My response is very simple: in primitivesocieties

more than any others, the two genders constitutevery distinct universes

withtheir own spaces and activities, which implies the existence of tensions and forms ofcompetition between them. As I man I do not have full access to the feminine world ofthe Indians.

But in this regard, there is an even more determining factor: everything I havesaid about the relationship of the village to the outside world falls into the men'sdomain - this is one of the main reasons why the video equipment has beenrestricted to the masculine sphere. This is much more their own choice than mine.Women express uneasiness approaching these strange objects. On the other hand,video is immediately seen as an instrument of power, both in terms of the content ofthe videos we bring them, and conversely, in the way they use video to as a vehicle forinternal disputes or interethnic relations, topics that are also within the masculine

sphere.

By taking video to a certain village, we are furthering the political project of theleader of this community. It is thus up to him to choose who will be responsible for theequipment. The choice has always been for a son, a nephew or some other closerelative to do it, so that he can retain control of the process.

Even if video is presented by a woman, as has happened on occasion, it isimmediately incorporated into the political sphere, which is masculine. It is clear,however, that were we to have more cameras available, this experiment could beexpanded to include women, and then obviously nothing would be better than to havewomen carry this work forward if they so chose.

Don't you think it's contradictory to introduce a new technology to help themmaintain their own culture? Aren't you justprecipitatingchanges whichwouldleadthem in theopposite direction? Aren't you creating a new category of Indians:those who retain the power because they have video and therefore produce theirown version of things?

I think this question arises in audiences all over the world. To a great majorityof people, the Indians represent a fictive screen onto which they project ideas of


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wisdom and equilibrium, harmony with nature, collectivity, etc. And these peoplewould like this dream to remain untouched, the Indians to be preserved in a type ofhuman zoo, or at least would like the changes in these societies to be delayed aslong as possible.

This ideology would be inconsequential if it remained at that, but unfortunately it

permeates our entire society, and can have grave, concrete implications undervarious circumstances. All the official indigenous affairs policies in Brazil corroboratewith this type of conception, and for this reason, the government is always trying todistinguish the "authentic," "pure" Indians from the "civilized" Indians. In addition tothis distinction, it excludes the so-called "acculturated" ones from the jurisdiction ofprotective legislation for indigenous people, and groups them in under the commoncitizenship. And who are the authentic ones? The naked ones? If they have civilidentity cards, are they no longer Indian? If they live in the city are they no longerIndian?

This dream has nothing to do with reality. Indigenous communities are beingsubmitted to brutal processes of change. And it's not just the pressure from theoutside: with each new generation, there is an increasing desire for change comingfrom within the community. If they want change, who are we to impose status quo onthem? I believe that the real dilemma is between change for the worseversuschangefor the better. Like everyone, Indians want things, they want to consume. Are theygoing to be eternal beggars or are they going to be economically integrated in someway? Are they going to be integrated one-by-one as the capitalist model would have it,or will they be integrated as a group, maintaining their internal organization? Are theygoing to exploit their natural resources according to the predatory model whichsurrounds them or are they going to experiment with environmentally sustainablesolutions? Those are the challenges facing them, and there is no point in dreaming,because in the meantime, their world is falling apart.

In the case of video, some villages had already been exposed to large

television networks when the video project arrived, but most had not. Somecommunities then acquired satellite dishes and used the monitor I gave them towatch TV. But so what? Television will come sooner or later, there is no point ingetting paralyzed by fear of change, paranoia about the responsibility for interference.So many other social categories have already been created: the indigenousbureaucrat, the indigenous truck driver, the policeman, the professor, etc., what is theproblem with having the indigenous videomaker? The problem is not in incorporatingnew objects, new customs, but in how to assimilate them. If a new form of technologysuch as video can be incorporated and used to increase self-esteem, what is theproblem? Videomaking makes young people proud of themselves: ("we also knowhow to use the whiteperson's instrument to film our things)," and reverses theprocess that was triggered by the invasion of mainstream television. It fights fire withfire.

Inthese videos, whatdidtheIndiansdo and what wasdonebyyou?Inwhat way istheindigenousgaze different from our own? What doIndiansprefer to document?Is there some tabooinrelation to the image?

The fact of the camera passing into the Indians' hands creates a greatexpectation on the part of the non-indigenous audience where the revelation of a newinsight regarding the indigenous gaze, aesthetically, as well as in terms of content, isconcerned. Viewing images of Indians shooting in my documentaries also generates


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a certain confusion where the authorship of the documentaries is concerned, eventhough this is unmistakably delineated in the credits.

When we make it clear that the video made by the Indians is almost exclusivelyfor internal consumption in the villages, and as such is distinct from the "Video in theVillages" series about the project, it always generates a sense of disappointment. But

the Indians are taking their first steps, and their work, like any home video, cannot bejudged according to aesthetic standards. It doesn't matter whether the image shakesand the takes are very long. What is important is the social and cultural dynamicassociated with this image.

In terms of content, people tend to expect the Indians to immediately use thecamera to record problems and denounce perpetrators. But this expectation is muchmore a projection on our part. For them, the first and greatest interest is indocumenting what they consider to be attractive, those things that make them proud--in other words, their ceremonies, their songs, their dances. And this is not just for thepurpose of showing these activities to outsiders, but above all so that they can enjoythem.

A non-indigenous audience certainly couldnt stand watching six hours or moreof a recorded ceremony. But if they did have enough patience for that, and if theyunderstood better the space in which the recording was made and the ritualsthemselves, they would be able to appreciate how precise the indigenousvideomakers are in their approach. For the anthropologists who have worked on theproject, it has always been a revelation to see show they conceive a ceremonialstructure, and seeing the images produced by the younger cameraman, I myselfdiscovered several shooting angles which hadn't occurred to me previously.

Brazil still doesn't have an urban indigenous population involved in culturalproduction according to conventional standards. We have artisans in the villages, butwe don't have painters or sculptors exhibiting their work in galleries, not to mention

filmmakers or photographers. We are only now witnessing the first generation ofurbanized Indians gaining access to the universities in states where the indigenouspopulation is more pronounced, such as Amazonas and Mato Grosso.

Even in non-Native society, cultural production such as cinema and video is stilla very elite activity in Brazil, primarily because of its high cost. I myself was shockedwhen a distributor in Chicago recently called me saying that they were organizing anexhibition of videos on negritude and could I give them the names of blackvideomakers in Brazil: I was unable to remember a single name. Actually, blackpeople constitute at least 40% of the Brazilian population (not 0.1% like the Indians).We have a huge number of black musicians, dancers and actors, but I cant think ofany filmmaker or documentarist. Recently, there has been an enormous proliferationof video production within popular movements - unions, slum-dwellers, streetchildren, etc. However, the material produced in this context, like that of the Indians, isrestricted to these organizations mainly because the themes and language aredesigned to contribute to their internal dynamics.

What is the final conclusion?

Finally, what do I think after receiving so many questions and suggestions, somuch criticism, advice and praise? When I made the videos, I certainly did not have aclear concept of what specific audience I would reach and what the resulting


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message would be. By getting into this type of distribution network, one ends upreaching a very diverse audience. It is impossible to please, or be understood in thesame way by Greeks and Trojans. What would the understanding of other, muchlarger audiences from whom I have not received feedback be? What was in the mindsof the Norwegians, Australians, or Chinese who saw the tapes? It is difficult to knowfor sure, but perhaps the answer received throughout this American marathon

certainly serves as an example.

Of course, we produce something so others can see it, but we don'tnecessarily have to submit it to audience standard in the same way as commercialtelevision productions. Engaging in self-criticism while conceiving the tapes, I wasalways concerned with makingsomething that would be attractive to the public, that is,beautiful cinematography, cuts on action, rapid editing for an audience used toconsuming visual culture developed according to television standards. A bit of humoris always fundamental. But the content is really the expression of a vision, and it isdelivered from a personal point of view. It is not molded in order to satisfy theexpectations of any specific audience, but precisely to transmit its own ideas. Thevideos reached diverse audiences without being made for any audience in particular.They were shown on TV networks without having been shot in that format, and without

using television language. Upon reflection, I think my editor, Tutu Nunes - my directcollaborator in the editing room - was always my immediate audience.

If, for example, a video like Video Cannibalism(AntropofagiaVisual) is limitedto a very restricted audience because it treats sensitive themes like sexuality andviolence, it doesn't matter. I do not regret it, because without such work the chronicleof the experiment would remain incomplete. Producing video is a personalcompulsion, its a little like writing in a diary, to leave behind a testimonial record ofhow people experienced and understood the process.

I always concentrated much more on the internal dynamics of the project in thevillages, which is both the origin and the priority, than on the impact the

documentaries might have on audiences. Sometimes, I ask myself: if I change this orthat would it facilitate comprehension, would it help prevent a certainmisunderstanding? The fact that the documentaries entered into distribution clearlyprompts me to reflect more on this whole other dimension, namely the reception bynon-indigenous people. All my apprenticeship in relation to the audience will beunconsciously incorporated into my next editorial decisions, where I will try to be moreclear or more provocative with regard to certain issues. But I have always been wary ofletting myself be completely absorbed by documentary concerns and classical way ofseeing. There is, therefore, an ongoing tension between these two dimensions - theproject and the documentaries - and hence a balance to work toward.

The current development of a local public television program produced in MatoGrosso in collaboration with indigenous communities for an urban audience

constitutes a new perspective for the "Video in the Villages" project. The idea for theprogram is to establish a dialogue between the audience and the Indians -interviewing the former, then taking it to the Indians for a response - and this willencourage the Indians, as well as the crew responsible for the production, toconcentrate their attention specifically on the audience issue.

Just to conclude, I would like to say that although I have elaborated here on themisunderstandings, shocks and expectations of audiences with regard to my videos,nevertheless, much of the audience reacted in positive ways. Many simply did not ask


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questions because the content seemed straightforward to them, and they cameforward after the discussions to thank me and to express their pleasure at the entirelynew vision the videos gave them.

Throughout these peregrinations I sometimes feel myself doing in the UnitedStates and Canada exactly what I do in Amazon, only I would call this "Video in the

Cities." From audience to audience, from classroom to classroom, thesedocumentaries take a trajectory similar to the videos we circulate in the villages: anelectronic network channeling new information, stirring up controversies, andprovoking discussions and comparisons.

As for this text, perhaps it will be useful in supplying the North Americanaudience with a little background on the Brazilian reality before screenings. And whoknows? Maybe by reversing the focus of the discussions - that is, working from theBrazilian example - instead of submitting ourselves to so many interrogations, we canquestion the audience about the vision they have of their own minorities.

Bibliographic and Filmographic References:

1. Vincent Carelli, "Video in the Villages: Utilization of Video-Tapes as an Instrument ofEthnic Affirmation Among Brazilian Indians," in CVA (Commission on VisualAnthropology) Newsletter, pp. 10-15.2. Dominique Gallois and Vincent Carelli, "Video nas Aldeias: a experincia dosWaiapi," in Cadernos de Campo(Universidade de Sao Paulo) 2:2 (1992), pp. 25-36;"Vido dans les Villages, l'exprience Waiapi," in Lumires/Cinma No. 32 (Qubec,1993/1994), pp. 40-51; "Video in the Villages: The Waiapi Experience," in CVA(Commission on Visual Anthropology) Newsletter, pp. 7-11.

3. Jacqueline Urla, "Breaking All the Rules: An Interview with France Peters," in VisualAnthropology Review, Vol. 9, No. 2 (Fall, 1993).4. Victor Masayesva, Jr. (Hopi), Imagining Indians (1992, 58 min.).5. Randy Redroad (Cherokee), Haircuts Hurt (1992, 10 min.); Cow Tipping--theMilitant Indian Waiter (1992, 10 min.); HighHorse (1994, 40 min.).6. Victor Masayesva, Jr., "The Indigenous Eye, An interview with Zapotec filmmakerCrisanto Manzano Avella," inAboriginal VoicesVol. 1, No. 4 (Fall, 1994).7. Alanis Obomsawin, Kanehsatake - 270 Years of Resistance (1993, 120 min.).Canada.8. Sandra Osawa (Makah), Lighting the Seventh Fire (1994, 48 min.).9. Fung, Richard, Working Through Cultural Appropriation, FUSE, Summer 1993,

Documents

Video in Villages 1