I first encountered the possibility of living through culture when I was sixteen. By “culture” I do not mean any of the technical definitions that the humanities and social sciences continue to put forward, with uneven success. To me, the term carried the narrower and more precise meaning of “cultura” as used in Mexican newspapers: something similar to, but broader than the “arts” section of US newspapers, and yet not quite as broad as a “lifestyle” section. The culture I strive for, seek, and practice is always redefining itself, but has generally been anchored in literature and cinema, to later establish a constellation in which music, visual culture and gastronomy have acquired a permanent and constant place. But it always reaches out to new spaces.
I am a professional of culture, because I make a living out of it. I became a professor of Latin American literature, cinema and culture, and this is my livelihood in the most literal sense of the word: it is my job, it pays my bills, and it occupies my time. I am incredibly fortunate to have this livelihood, because it has always been scarce and unavailable, and the few infrastructures that sustain it are crumbling down even more, under the weight of economic austerity, anti-intellectualism and political persecution. Making a living through culture, whether it is in the public sphere or in the university, is increasingly impossible. I delve into these questions in my day job as a professor, and in some of my recent public writing.
The purpose of this newsletter is distinct to the discussion of this reality. I do have public writing and other interventions in progress about these matters, and I will link them here as they come. It is about building a living through culture, the ways in which the joys of a book, a work of art, a film, a meal, or simply the casual encounter with something in the world create meaning both in their sensorial dimension and in the possibility of casually researching and interpreting its power. It is a little corner in which I can advocate for the beauty of erudition and the value that intellectual engagement and sensibility to cultural form can bring to one’s life. As a teacher, my biggest lament is to see my students are robbed of such possibilities by economic pressure and lack of access to a proper education in culture. In my day job, I fight against that in the classroom. In here, I want to show not so much how we can fight back, but more modestly why these things matter to me.
Nacho’s Culture Notes seeks to be a space in which I write about culture in ways that my job does not always permit. I am a scholar of Mexican studies, but my cultural life is always connected to non-Mexican stuff. I wish this to be a place to write informally about the culture that means something to me, but that has no space in my job, even if the boundaries of my job, as is the case of those of us who seek a public outlet for our writings, is blurry. I will never not be professorial, but I hope the writing of this is casual. I decided to write this in English because I imagine that the language is more accessible than Spanish to the people who may be interested in reading me.
Some quick examples of the main focus of this newsletter: The last book I read before this post was Annie Ernaux’s Look at the Lights, My Love , an insightful diary of the supermarket in France, informed clearly by her consistent work on the problem of social class and her belief in cultural sociology (particularly the one coming from the work of Pierre Bourdieu), as a tool to undermine structures of power. The last film I watched was Jerzy Skolimowski’s Eo, a stunning work of visual art following the life of a donkey. To me it is a testament to the persistent force of cinema against the grain of the dominance of serial narrative, and a real exception to the use of animals to drive bad comedy and melodrama.
Film and cinema are also central to my academic work, but some other cultural practices are part of my more casual and personal constellations. The song that most recently swooned me was Silvana Estrada’s cover of Suzanne Vega’s Tom’s Diner, an expansion of the artistic repertoire of one of Mexico’s greatest young singers, and a video set in Bar Mancera in Mexico City which makes me nostalgic about the spaces of a persisting past I did not inhabit, but still provides refuge against the accelerated gentrification of my hometown. The last fun recipe I cooked was Doña Ángela’s enchiladas michoacanas, a process inspired after being interviewed for a New York Times article on her YouTube Channel De Mi Rancho a tu Cocina.
Beyond this, there will be some features connected to my academic and journalistic publication, as well as to my experiences teaching culture, replacing a blog I started in Wordpress but withered in my inconstancy. And sometimes it will be quick postings. This is meant to replace social media to a bit, not only because it will probably crumble soon, but also because engaging a small group of people (or at least anyone beyond no one, I hope) who read and subscribe voluntarily, out of interest, is better than the negative affects elicited by random showings in people’s newsfeeds.
If you are one of those readers, thank you for your interest. You can subscribe in the button below. You can expect at least a post a week, of varying length, subject to the ebbs and flows of my day job.