Exposição / Exposição Temporária
Claudia Andujar e seu Universo: Sustentabilidade, Ciência e Espiritualidade
2025-2025
Eixo temático
Link externo
Informações gerais
Código
MDA.EXP.00061
Nome
Claudia Andujar e seu Universo: Sustentabilidade, Ciência e Espiritualidade
Claudia Andujar e seu Universo
Claudia Andujar and her Universe: Sustainability, Science, and Spirituality
Claudia Andujar and her Universe
Claudia Andujar e seu Universo
Claudia Andujar and her Universe: Sustainability, Science, and Spirituality
Claudia Andujar and her Universe
Descrição
A exposição Claudia Andujar e seu Universo – Sustentabilidade, Ciência e Espiritualidade apresenta, de forma inédita, a obra de Claudia Andujar como uma ponte entre arte, conhecimento e ação diante da crise climática. Com curadoria de Paulo Herkenhoff, a mostra integra a Ocupação Esquenta COP e convida o público a refletir sobre os vínculos entre modos de entender o mundo e a urgência de transformações sociais e ambientais profundas.
Ao longo da exposição, a trajetória humanista de Andujar é explorada por meio de sua fotografia como forma de escuta e aliança com populações historicamente vulnerabilizadas no Brasil — incluindo migrantes, mulheres, pessoas negras e, especialmente, povos indígenas. A artista colocou sua câmera a serviço da natureza e da denúncia de práticas genocidas contra povos originários, destacando também a dimensão ética e viva da sustentabilidade enquanto linguagem em permanente reinvenção.
A mostra também enfatiza o encontro entre arte, ciência e espiritualidade, revelando como o trabalho de Andujar se insere em diálogos mais amplos sobre conhecimento antropológico, ritual, tecido social e experiências ancestrais. Por meio de imagens que registram cerimônias, rituais e relações com elementos naturais, a exposição propõe uma visão integrada do mundo em que a arte sensibiliza e amplia perspectivas sobre os modos de existir e conviver.
The exhibition Claudia Andujar and Her Universe – Sustainability, Science and Spirituality presents, for the first time, the work of Claudia Andujar as a bridge between art, knowledge and action in the face of the climate crisis. Curated by Paulo Herkenhoff, the exhibition is part of the COP Warm-up Occupation and invites the public to reflect on the links between ways of understanding the world and the urgency of profound social and environmental transformations. Throughout the exhibition, Andujar's humanist trajectory is explored through her photography as a form of listening to and allying with historically vulnerable populations in Brazil — including migrants, women, Black people and, especially, Indigenous peoples. The artist placed her camera at the service of nature and the denunciation of genocidal practices against native peoples, also highlighting the ethical and living dimension of sustainability as a language in permanent reinvention. The exhibition also emphasizes the encounter between art, science, and spirituality, revealing how Andujar's work fits into broader dialogues about anthropological knowledge, ritual, social fabric, and ancestral experiences. Through images that record ceremonies, rituals, and relationships with natural elements, the exhibition proposes an integrated vision of the world in which art sensitizes and broadens perspectives on ways of existing and coexisting.
The exhibition Claudia Andujar and Her Universe – Sustainability, Science and Spirituality presents, for the first time, the work of Claudia Andujar as a bridge between art, knowledge and action in the face of the climate crisis. Curated by Paulo Herkenhoff, the exhibition is part of the COP Warm-up Occupation and invites the public to reflect on the links between ways of understanding the world and the urgency of profound social and environmental transformations. Throughout the exhibition, Andujar's humanist trajectory is explored through her photography as a form of listening to and allying with historically vulnerable populations in Brazil — including migrants, women, Black people and, especially, Indigenous peoples. The artist placed her camera at the service of nature and the denunciation of genocidal practices against native peoples, also highlighting the ethical and living dimension of sustainability as a language in permanent reinvention. The exhibition also emphasizes the encounter between art, science, and spirituality, revealing how Andujar's work fits into broader dialogues about anthropological knowledge, ritual, social fabric, and ancestral experiences. Through images that record ceremonies, rituals, and relationships with natural elements, the exhibition proposes an integrated vision of the world in which art sensitizes and broadens perspectives on ways of existing and coexisting.
Tipo de Exposição
Autoria
Produção
Eixo temático
Conteúdo
Texto Curatorial
Claudia Andujar e seu universo: sustentabilidade, ciência e espiritualidade
Claudia Andujar é um paradigma internacional de humanismo construído ao longo de décadas de dedicação à fotografia como forma de escuta e aliança. Sua prática tem se voltado sobretudo para populações historicamente vulnerabilizadas no Brasil — como migrantes nordestinos, mulheres, pessoas negras e povos indígenas —, cujas existências têm sido sistematicamente ameaçadas por projetos de exclusão e apagamento.
Nascida numa família em grande parte judia, em 12 de junho de 1931, em Neuchâtel, Suíça, se mudou para a Hungria quando tinha cinco anos. Seu pai foi aprisionado pelos nazistas e morreu num campo de concentração. Com sua mãe, a jovem Claudia se exilou em Nova York durante a Segunda Guerra Mundial, em fuga do Holocausto. Claudine Haas se tornou Claudia Andujar ao se casar com o espanhol Julio Andujar nos Estados Unidos. Em 1955, o casal veio morar no Brasil e se instalou em São Paulo.
Desde a infância, Claudia Andujar escrevia poemas, depois passou a pintar, até que descobriu a fotografia. “Na pintura, eu me fechava. Na fotografia, eu me abri”. Sua entrega política mais impactante esteve voltada à transformação da consciência coletiva sobre a violência estrutural das hegemonias que operam no país. Denunciou práticas de genocídio, como as perpetuadas contra os povos indígenas por agentes do garimpo e do Estado.
Para Claudia Andujar, a fotografia foi um gesto de enfrentamento da “violentação da violência” social, dimensão tomada emprestada de Michel Foucault. O regime óptico de sua produção foi primeiramente marcado pelo compartilhamento de valores éticos necessários ao olhar de compaixão, simpatia e aliança com os dominados, e à defesa da vida. Só depois, caberia pensar na excelência estética de sua fotografia.
Sustentabilidade. A conservacionista Claudia Andujar colocou sua câmera a serviço da natureza. Sua produção fotográfica denunciou ao mundo o genocídio dos povos indígenas da América do Sul, a espoliação das terras e dos saberes indígenas, o garimpo ilegal, além do envenenamento dos rios amazônicos pelo mercúrio. Sua trajetória também aponta para outra dimensão da sustentabilidade: a de uma arte que se refaz, se ressignifica e permanece em trânsito. Claudia reelaborou continuamente seus negativos desde a década de 1970, em um processo autoral de retorno e reinvenção. Sua fotografia nunca se fecha como documento fixo; é reaberta ao presente como linguagem viva.
Ciência. Aconselhada por Darcy Ribeiro, Claudia Andujar se encaminhou para documentar sociedades indígenas sob o prisma do conhecimento antropológico, incluindo a vida simbólica e a cultura material dos povos originários. Claudia Andujar compõe uma história de mais de 150 anos de emprego da fotografia nesse processo investigativo, ao lado de Sebastião Salgado, Milton Guran, Elza Lima, entre outros — aqui referidos por conta da dimensão estética de suas imagens. Sua atuação foi decisiva, por exemplo, na campanha de vacinação dos Yanomami nos anos 1980, unindo arte, ciência e mobilização política em defesa da vida — uma dimensão pouco conhecida de sua atuação, mas que exemplifica a potência expandida do fazer fotográfico.
Espiritualidade. Em seus primórdios, algumas sociedades não brancas, consideravam que a fotografia “roubava a alma” dos retratados. Ademais, as sociedades indígenas foram catequizadas por missionários católicos, uma guerra simbólica hoje acirrada pelo exacerbado proselitismo de seitas evangelizadoras.
O delicado respeito ético de Claudia Andujar pelas diferenças e especificidades das crenças resultou numa “arte sacra” sui generis, ao registrar com formidável qualidade plástica cerimônias, trajes rituais, cenas de transe e ingestão de substâncias enteógenas, observando teogonias e a unidade entre todos os seres que compõem a terra: água, pedras, montanhas, vegetais, animais, um reino da natureza no qual os humanos se inscrevem sem hierarquização de qualquer espécie.
Paulo Herkenhoff - Curador da Exposição
Claudia Andujar and Her Universe: Sustainability, Science, and Spirituality
Claudia Andujar is an international paradigm of humanism built over decades of dedication to photography as a form of listening and alliance. Her practice has focused primarily on historically vulnerable populations in Brazil—such as migrants from the Northeast, women, Black people, and Indigenous peoples—whose existences have been systematically threatened by projects of exclusion and erasure.
Born into a largely Jewish family on June 12, 1931, in Neuchâtel, Switzerland, she moved to Hungary when she was five years old. Her father was imprisoned by the Nazis and died in a concentration camp. With her mother, young Claudia went into exile in New York during World War II, fleeing the Holocaust. Claudine Haas became Claudia Andujar upon marrying the Spaniard Julio Andujar in the United States. In 1955, the couple came to live in Brazil and settled in São Paulo.
From childhood, Claudia Andujar wrote poems, then moved on to painting, until she discovered photography. “In painting, I closed myself off. In photography, I opened myself up.” Her most impactful political contribution was focused on transforming collective consciousness about the structural violence of the hegemonic powers operating in the country. She denounced genocidal practices, such as those perpetrated against indigenous peoples by agents of illegal mining and the State.
For Claudia Andujar, photography was a gesture of confronting the “violence of social violence,” a dimension borrowed from Michel Foucault. The optical regime of her production was initially marked by the sharing of ethical values necessary for a compassionate, sympathetic, and allied gaze with the dominated, and for the defense of life. Only then could the aesthetic excellence of her photography be considered.
Sustainability. The conservationist Claudia Andujar put her camera at the service of nature. Her photographic work denounced to the world the genocide of the indigenous peoples of South America, the spoliation of indigenous lands and knowledge, illegal mining, and the poisoning of Amazonian rivers by mercury. Her trajectory also points to another dimension of sustainability: that of an art that remakes itself, resignifies itself, and remains in transit. Claudia has continuously reworked her negatives since the 1970s, in an authorial process of return and reinvention. Her photography never closes as a fixed document; it is reopened to the present as a living language.
Science. Advised by Darcy Ribeiro, Claudia Andujar turned to documenting indigenous societies from the perspective of anthropological knowledge, including the symbolic life and material culture of the original peoples. Claudia Andujar's work, alongside Sebastião Salgado, Milton Guran, Elza Lima, and others—mentioned here because of the aesthetic dimension of their images—comprises a history spanning over 150 years of photographic application. Her work was decisive, for example, in the Yanomami vaccination campaign of the 1980s, uniting art, science, and political mobilization in defense of life—a little-known dimension of her work, but one that exemplifies the expanded power of photographic practice.
Spirituality. In its early stages, some non-white societies considered that photography "stole the soul" of those portrayed. Furthermore, indigenous societies were catechized by Catholic missionaries, a symbolic war now intensified by the exacerbated proselytism of evangelizing sects.
Claudia Andujar's delicate ethical respect for the differences and specificities of beliefs resulted in a sui generis "sacred art," recording with formidable artistic quality ceremonies, ritual costumes, scenes of trance and ingestion of entheogenic substances, observing theogonies and the unity among all beings that compose the earth: water, stones, mountains, plants, animals, a kingdom of nature in which humans are inscribed without any kind of hierarchy.
Paulo Herkenhoff - Exhibition Curator
Palavra-chave
BiomasAssunto
ComunidadesAssunto
Conferência das Partes (COP)Assunto
DesmatamentoAssunto
Direitos HumanosAssunto
DiversidadeAssunto
EcologiaAssunto
Emergência ClimáticaAssunto
Exposições TemporáriasAssunto
HumanidadeAssunto
Justiça ClimáticaAssunto
Justiça SocialAssunto
PoluiçãoAssunto
Povos OrigináriosAssunto
PreservaçãoAssunto
Sustentabilidade AmbientalAssunto
Sustentabilidade SocialAssunto
Notas
Antecipando a Ciência do Amanhã
A Ciência Moderna — em seus quatrocentos anos desde René Descartes (1596–1650) – trouxe muitas coisas boas para o mundo. Entretanto, há pelo menos três coisas que só pioram a cada ano: emissão de gases de efeito estufa (e consequente aquecimento global); perda acelerada de biodiversidade (que impacta água, ar, terra e saúde humana); e desigualdade social (capital e recursos concentrados nas mãos de poucos).
A própria Ciência Moderna tem demonstrado inequivocamente que esses três problemas precisam de soluções urgentes para o bem da espécie humana e do planeta. Contudo, a ação prática nessa direção não tem acompanhado as evidências. Tal fato indica claramente que só a Ciência Moderna não basta para reverter os rumos cada vez mais preocupantes que o mundo tem tomado. No estado atual de policrise, não há conhecimento do qual se possa abrir mão, desde que seja democrático e amoroso.
A Arte e Espiritualidade, ao tocarem as emoções, são essenciais para impulsionar as transformações profundas que a humanidade precisa abraçar. A obra de Claudia Andujar promove justamente esses encontros, tão necessários quanto inusitados: da informação com a emoção, do ancestral com o moderno, do sacro com o transgressor, do sul com o norte, do visível com o invisível.
O universo que esses diálogos criam é habitado por uma constelação de seres: humanos e mais-que-humanos, xamãs e mundanos, urbanos e silvícolas, retirantes e ficantes, artistas e cientistas. O universo de Claudia antecipa a ciência do amanhã: aquela que emergirá do diálogo entre todas as formas de conhecimento amorosos e democráticos, sejam eles científicos, artísticos ou espirituais.
Fabio Scarano - Curador Museu do Amanhã
História de Sombras na Fotografia Brasileira
Em A República, Platão imaginou pessoas acorrentadas numa caverna, que só teriam conhecimento do mundo exterior através de ruídos e sombras projetadas no fundo desta gruta. No mundo das sombras, só a luz do sol e a liberdade dão acesso ao mundo real e bom. A “Alegoria da caverna” é uma metáfora da teoria do conhecimento. A arte é mimese.
Na fotografia brasileira, sombras conectam gerações que operaram pela imaginação simbólica. Claudia Andujar – adotando a premissa Yanomami, e desapegada do seu eu – projeta sua sombra sobre um tapete de folhas caídas de árvores em clara alusão à floresta com a qual se funde numa unidade viva, desapegada do seu eu. Já a sombra platônica de Bené Fonteles se integra à terra vermelha de Brasília, avizinhada por uma lagartixa: o artista é um ser mimético do mundo.
Paulo Lobo se projeta como sombra de Oxóssi: o fotógrafo, segundo Vilém Flusser, caça o objeto de sua câmera. A autoimagem que registra a projeção do corpo de Mário de Andrade sobre o chão, Sombra minha, que denota seu conhecido narcisismo. Por fim, Na caverna da sombra do meu ego, Solon Ribeiro, ex-curador de cinema do Pompidou, entrecruza a “Alegoria da caverna” de Platão ao egocentrismo de Mário de Andrade.
Paulo Herkenhoff - Curador da Exposição
Durante os anos de chumbo da ditadura militar, artistas como Cildo Meireles e Claudia Andujar ergueram, cada um à sua maneira, expressões artísticas como formas de denúncia e resistência contra o extermínio de corpos e culturas indígenas. Em A razão e a loucura, Meireles tensiona a fronteira entre a racionalidade e o insano com dois arcos de bambu curvados até quase se quebrarem, mantidos por correntes e cadeados. Num deles, a chave da razão não alcança o cadeado. No outro, a chave da loucura cruza a corrente, insinuando a liberação súbita da força contida. Razão é contenção, e loucura é ruptura.
Construída com material da floresta, a estrutura da obra evoca o ordenamento do mundo e a ameaça de seu desmantelamento, enquanto o metal torna-se metáfora da violência colonial que invade territórios originários. No mesmo contexto histórico, as imagens de Andujar ressoam essa tensão: sua fotografia é a “loucura” e a chave que rompe silêncios e violências de uma narrativa dita racional. Juntas, as obras convidam o visitante a pensar o que se rompe quando a razão se ergue como prisão, e a loucura se torna fuga e sobrevivência.
Rafael Salimena - Redator Museu do Amanhã
“Quem sabe escrevo por não saber pintar?”
Clarice Lispector
“Fui à casa de Clarice Lispector para fotografá-la a pedido da revista Claudia, que naquele ano de 1961 preparava uma reportagem sobre a escritora. Pouco me lembro daquele dia perdido no tempo, mas há detalhes que guardo para sempre. Ninguém da revista me acompanhava e fui recebida com muita simpatia por aquela mulher linda, vestida com simplicidade e elegância. Conversamos pouco. Quis deixá-la à vontade para a foto e perguntei como gostaria de se posicionar. Se não me engano, a ideia de sentar diante da máquina de escrever e começar a trabalhar em algum texto foi de Clarice. E então ela se deixou absorver pelo ato de escrever, completamente entregue, sem quase notar minha presença.” Claudia Andujar”
Claudia Andujar
A chamada Viagem Filosófica, liderada por Alexandre Rodrigues Ferreira no final do século XVIII, foi uma importante expedição científica portuguesa. Por nove anos, percorreu o centro-norte do Brasil (Grão-Pará, Rio Negro, Mato Grosso) subindo os rios Amazonas, Negro, Madeira, Guaporé e Paraguai, e produziu um vasto acervo de cerca de novecentas gravuras sobre fauna, flora e modos de vida dos povos originários.
Ferreira iniciou uma classificação original das etnias amazônicas, baseada em corpos, artefatos, moradias e vestimentas. Entre os registros, destacam-se duas imagens que mostram artefatos e uma indígena inalando rapé de paricá.
As sementes de paricá (Schizolobium amazonicum Huber ex Ducke) são usadas na produção de rapé, que é aplicado em rituais de cura, fortalecimento físico e práticas meditativas. Essa árvore venerada por povos originários representa um elo com a sabedoria ancestral e a cura natural.
A Viagem Filosófica, portanto, favoreceu o encontro entre a ciência moderna e a ciência ancestral. Tal diálogo se faz ainda mais necessário em tempos de profunda crise ambiental e espiritual, como agora.
Rafael Salimena - Redator Museu do Amanhã
“Na época não me importava não entender a língua dos Yanomami. Nós nos entendíamos com gestos e mímica. As respostas, encontrava no olhar. Não sentia a falta de troca de palavras. Queria observar, absorver, para recriar em forma de imagens o que sentia. Talvez o diálogo iria até interferir. Só mais tarde, quando acabei de fotografar, eu procurei a comunicação verbal.”
Claudia Andujar (1975)
A mineira Paula Sampaio, residente em Belém, é uma guerreira incansável que luta pela exposição dos desastres produzidos pelos governos ditatoriais ou mesmos democráticos contra a Amazônia, que vão desde a construção da rodovia Transamazônica até a usina de Tucuruí no Pará. No período da baixa das águas, os troncos das árvores submersas no Lago do Tucuruí emergem acima das águas — eles são transformados pelas lentes de Paula Sampaio em seres dilacerados a gritar por socorro, mas sem escuta social. Essas fotografias resultaram no ensaio Lago do Esquecimento.
Paulo Herkenhoff - Curador da Exposição
Penas e plumas, para muitos povos originários, expressam beleza e poder. A confecção e uso desses adornos é uma das formas mais elaboradas de arte indígena. Uma peça só alcança sentido pleno quando aplicada ao corpo. Serve também de insígnia, emprestando prestígio a líderes espirituais, chefes políticos e guerreiros. Essa arte exige conhecimento da fauna, técnica e sensibilidade artística — e pode ser identificada pelos estilos próprios de cada tribo ou região — e se transmite entre gerações. O refinamento desta ciência é uma tradição que revela o espiritual.
Rafael Salimena - Redator Museu do Amanhã
“Artigo I. Fica decretado que agora vale a verdade / que agora vale a vida, / e que de mãos dadas, / trabalharemos todos pela vida verdadeira.”
Thiago de Mello, Estatutos do Homem
(Ato Institucional Permanente)
A Amazônia sob o olhar de indígenas, garimpeiros e seringueiros
A representação da vida na Amazônia teve um salto qualitativo desde os anos 60 a partir da fotografia de Claudia Andujar, e de pintores que interpretam a vida cultural, o imaginário, as mitologias, os conflitos e o trabalho dos ribeirinhos.
Paulo Herkenhoff - Curador da Exposição
Chico da Silva (1910–1986) nasceu no Acre. Seu pai migrou do Ceará para o Acre durante uma seca. Mais tarde, Chico retornou a Fortaleza. Pintou animais da selva como visagens e seres mitológicos.
Paulo Herkenhoff - Curador da Exposição
Hélio Melo (1926–2001) nasceu no Amazonas e viveu no Acre. Ganhou a vida nos seringais. Sua obra principal é composta de desenhos verdes feitos com anilina extraída da folha da seringa. Seu trabalho consagrou a vida cotidiana nos seringais e cogitações populares (“se um cavalo está numa árvore, foi alguém que pôs”).
Paulo Herkenhoff - Curador da Exposição
Jair Gabriel nasceu em Rondônia (1950). Desde os dez anos de idade, ajudou seu pai no ganha-pão no garimpo. Há algumas décadas, se tornou pintor, chegando a sofisticados resultados plásticos através do pontilhismo. Representou seres imaginários ou fabulosos, como sereias e dragões.
Paulo Herkenhoff -Curador
Paulo Sampaio foi um dos “soldados da borracha”, como eram chamados os rapazes que, em lugar de se alistarem para servirem no Exército brasileiro na Itália, optaram por fazer a colheita da seiva das seringueiras na Amazônia. O objetivo era produzir borracha, já que o Exército americano dependia desta matéria-prima importada do Sudeste Asiático. Paulo Sampaio representou a vida do seringueiro. Numa série de quadros, documentou a penetração na selva, o ataque de indígenas para defender suas terras, a matança deles pelos seringueiros e a devastação da floresta como resultado da ocupação.
Paulo Herkenhoff - Curador da Exposição
Circunstâncias
(Texto de introdução do livro Marcados. São Paulo: Cosac Naify, 2009)
1944
Aos treze anos tive o primeiro encontro com os “marcados para morrer”. Foi na Transilvânia, Hungria, no fim da Segunda Guerra. Meu pai, meus parentes paternos, meus amigos de escola, todos com a estrela de Davi, visível, amarela, costurada na roupa, na altura do peito, para identificá-los como “marcados”, para agredi-los, incomodá-los e, posteriormente, deportá-los aos campos de extermínio. Sentia-se no ar que algo terrível estava para acontecer.
Em meio a esse clima de perplexidade, Gyuri me convidou para um passeio no parque. Foi uma confissão de amor. Só assim posso nomear seu desejo de andarmos juntos. Era algo que fazíamos guiados pela intuição. Tratava-se de um passeio somente para me dizer: “Frequentamos a mesma escola. Reparei em você. Você é especial. E bonita.”
Eu também o procurava, dia após dia, caminhando na rua, sempre na mesma hora. Sabia que o veria en passant. Sinto a emoção me apertar a garganta. Naquele dia de junho de 1944 decidimos nos encontrar e confessar nossos sentimentos.
O rapaz judeu estava marcado com a estrela amarela, o mogendovid. Ele tinha quinze anos, e eu, treze. Andamos emocionados, sem falar, olhando-nos furtivamente. Sabia que algo importante estava acontecendo. Era o nascimento do amor. Sentia um formigamento na pele. No fim do passeio recebi um beijo tímido e silencioso, que apenas tocou minha boca. Lembro-me de ter ficado com os lábios ardendo por horas seguidas. Um amor, em circunstâncias tão especiais, a gente nunca esquece. Ao sair com Gyuri, publicamente, sabia que estava desafiando o meu tempo. Nunca mais o revi. Durante anos, guardei um retrato dele no medalhão que usava pendurado no pescoço.
1980
Quase quarenta anos depois, já vivendo no Brasil como fotógrafa engajada na questão indígena, acompanhei alguns médicos em expedições de socorro na área da saúde.
A partir de 1973, durante os anos do “milagre brasileiro”, o território Yanomami na Amazônia brasileira foi invadido com a abertura de uma estrada. Com a mineração, a procura de ouro, diamantes, cassiterita, garimpos clandestinos, e não tão clandestinos, floresceram. Muitos indígenas foram vitimados, marcados por esses tempos sombrios.
Nosso modesto grupo de salvação — apenas dois médicos e eu — embrenhou-se na selva amazônica. O intuito era começar a organizar o trabalho na área da saúde. Uma de minhas atividades era fazer o registro, em fichas, das Comunidades Yanomami. Para isso, pendurávamos uma placa com número no pescoço de cada indígena: “vacinado”. Foi uma tentativa de salvação. Criamos uma nova identidade para eles, sem dúvida, um sistema alheio à sua cultura.
São as circunstâncias desse trabalho que pretendo mostrar por meio destas imagens feitas na época. Não se trata de justificar a marca colocada em seu peito, mas de explicitar que ela se refere a um terreno sensível, ambíguo, que pode suscitar constrangimento e dor. A mesma dor que senti por amor ao pisar na grama do parque, um amor impossível com Gyuri.
Ele morreu em Auschwitz naquele mesmo ano de 1944.
2008
É esse sentimento ambíguo que me leva, sessenta anos mais tarde, a transformar o simples registro dos Yanomami na condição de “gente” — marcada para viver — em obra que questiona o método de rotular seres para fins diversos.
Vejo hoje esse trabalho, esforço objetivo de ordenar e identificar uma população sob risco de extinção, como algo na fronteira de uma obra conceitual.
Claudia Andujar
“Nós, povos Yanomami e Ye'kwana, reconhecemos o trabalho que a Claudia fez. Ela demonstrou compromisso e amor à população Yanomami. Ajudou muito as nossas lideranças mais velhas. Demonstrou sua capacidade e conhecimento sobre a cultura do povo Yanomami para mostrar ao mundo quem nós somos.”
Dario Kopenawa (2021)
Em 1969, durante a ditadura militar, Andujar embarcou sozinha no “Trem Baiano” (ônibus que levava migrantes de volta à Bahia), ligando a estação Roosevelt (hoje conhecida como estação do Brás), em São Paulo, a Salvador, na Bahia. Em uma viagem que durava sete dias, Claudia registrou rostos, silêncios e cansaços de um deslocamento forçado pelo Departamento de Imigração e Colonização. Suas imagens revelam a desigualdade e a esperança quebrada, o que deu ao veículo o apelido de “Trem do Diabo”.
Rafael Salimena - Redator Museu do Amanhã
Nos anos 1950 e 1960, no coração da cidade de São Paulo — que fervilhava com gente que trabalhava ou ia às compras — Claudia Andujar e Flávio de Carvalho, cada um a seu tempo, fizeram da rua um palco para repensar formas de estar no mundo. Em Rua Direita, por volta de 1970, ao pousar sua câmera no chão, Andujar inverte a perspectiva e agiganta indivíduos diante da arquitetura com um quê de fantasmagoria, deixa as pessoas maiores que os edifícios e assim constrói uma narrativa própria.
Anos antes, em 1956, Flávio de Carvalho também havia ocupado o centro urbano e fez dele um laboratório de arte e vida. Experiência n. 3 foi um projeto artístico e investigativo — um estudo sobre a história da vestimenta que resultou em uma performance transgressora, que combinou arte, valores sociais e espaço público. Na ação, Flávio desfilou com seu bem-humorado “traje tropical” — uma vestimenta masculina para o verão como crítica ao hábito urbano brasileiro de imitar o modo europeu de se vestir — composto por uma blusa transparente aberta sob os braços, saia/bermuda-saiote de pregas, meia arrastão e sandálias. A performance tensionou códigos morais, revelando seu corpo como território e instrumento de poder ao caminhar contra o fluxo de sua época. O impacto nos passantes foi imenso!
Juntas, essas obras lembram que atravessar a cidade pode ser (e muitas vezes é) um gesto político, capaz de sustentar, resistir ou fazer ruir o cotidiano quando encontra a arte pelo caminho. Cauê Alves justapôs as fotografias de Flávio de Carvalho às de Claudia Andujar numa exposição no MAM de São Paulo e, agora, as obras da dupla de artistas se encontram novamente.
Rafael Salimena - Redator Museu do Amanhã
O filósofo tcheco-brasileiro Vilém Flusser (1920–1941), professor da USP, declarou categoricamente que São Paulo não é uma cidade. A chocante afirmação resultou de uma análise da teia urbanística da Paulicéia, com mais de um “centro”. Os símbolos de poder político, religioso e econômico, além dos monumentos públicos e símbolos culturais, que no modelo ocidental de cidade se concentravam numa só região, estavam agora dispersos pelo vasto território da metrópole. Para Flusser, era necessário pensar então o que seria a vibrante metrópole em termos urbanísticos.
Cláudia Andujar dispersou tematicamente sua São Paulo através de séries fotográficas que incluíam o vai-e-vem dos migrantes, a pressa dos transeuntes na rua Direita, vistas aéreas, seu próprio percurso pela cidade vista de dentro de seu fusca ou os autorretratos de seu mirante (o próprio apartamento), de onde avistava o mundo alinhado de arranha-céus. Ao se aproximar da subjetividade dos paulistanos, os pensa na beleza da cidade através de ângulos de visão, cortes, cor e procedimentos no laboratório; Cláudia Andujar inventou amorosamente sua São Paulo particular.
Paulo Herkenhoff - Curador
“São Paulo não é uma cidade.”
Vilém Flusser
Em 1976, Claudia Andujar e seu companheiro George Love, iniciaram uma travessia pelo Brasil, de São Paulo a Roraima, a bordo de um fusca preto. O carro, levado para servir à comunidade Yanomami em emergências – se transformou num estúdio em movimento, até mesmo ao pegar carona em uma balsa de cimento para atravessar rios.
Uma extensão do olhar da fotógrafa, as janelas do fusca funcionavam como uma segunda lente para a sua câmera, registrando cenas de um país suspenso pela ditadura militar.
Ao chegar nas terras Yanomami, o veículo ganhou um novo sentido ao ser rebatizado de "Watupari”, ou “urubu sem asa”. A máquina virou lenda, como em prenúncio à nova e inadiável missão na vida de Andujar como ativista. Essas imagens, acrescidas de cor, talvez revelem justamente a luz colorida que a ditadura tentava apagar.
Rafael Salimena - Redator Museu do Amanhã
Em 19 de agosto de 2019, o céu da cidade de São Paulo manifestou um fenômeno espantoso: escureceu no meio da tarde. O evento surpreendeu e ganhou a atenção de todo o Brasil.
Segundo os meteorologistas, foi resultado de diferentes fatores atmosféricos. Uma massa de ar polar avançou sobre o estado e encontrou muita umidade relativa no ar. Simultaneamente, partículas de fumaça vindas de queimadas na Amazônia e Bolívia foram levadas por ventos até São Paulo. Esse cenário se juntou com o ar da cidade, saturado de poluição.
A mistura de ar frio e grande quantidade de partículas poluentes impediu a entrada da luz solar e causou o escurecimento no meio do dia. O episódio ficou conhecido como “o dia que virou noite”.
Tudo é conectado, e as imagens refletem as relações e conexões entre modos de vida de diferentes territórios. De que forma nosso modo de vida impacta a vida de pessoas em lugares distantes?
Rafael Salimena - Redator Museu do Amanhã
A filosofia de Carlos Papá confronta a lógica reducionista da ciência moderna, que reduz o todo a partes. Na cosmologia Guarani, tudo é um corpo só, e ciência e espiritualidade não se separam: o conhecimento nasce da escuta e da convivência com o invisível e exige adentrar a escuridão do desconhecido. Para os Guaranis, "A Mata Atlântica não é Mata Atlântica. ‘Atlântica’ é o nome do mar que o juruá criou. Para nós, o mar é o mar. Seja lá onde for, mar é mar. Para nós, não existe isso de Pacífico e Atlântico.”
Rafael Salimena - Redator Museu do Amanhã
Em 1967, Claudia Andujar foi a Congonhas do Campo, Minas Gerais, para registrar o médium Zé Arigó, famoso pelas cirurgias espirituais que intrigavam médicos, fiéis e curiosos. Arigó atraía multidões em busca de cura, formando filas intermináveis que misturavam fé, desespero e polêmica. Na lente de Claudia, os corpos que se submetiam à lâmina improvisada revelam a vulnerabilidade extrema e a força da crença. As imagens expõem o clima quase cinematográfico de um Brasil em que mistério, espiritualidade e cura se cruzam num só gesto.
Rafael Salimena - Redator Museu do Amanhã
O fogo talvez seja o mais eloquente dos quatro elementos a expressar as ambiguidades do mundo natural. Cria uma tênue fronteira feita de brasa que separa a luz do mistério, o sagrado do profano, o ritual da devastação, o acolhimento da incineração. Em conjunto, as imagens de Claudia Andujar, Frans Krajcberg e João Farkas revelam o fascínio da chama que ritualiza e maneja e o horror do incêndio que consome e destrói. As imagens destes artistas evidenciam o que a ciência demonstra: o fogo é um elemento sagrado que requer reverência e cuidado. Nossas avós e nossos avôs já alertavam: “quem brinca com fogo se queima”.
Fabio Scarano - Curador Museu do Amanhã
“As crianças Krenak anseiam por serem antigas. Isso porque [...] as crianças ainda têm a liberdade e a autonomia de aspirar mundos, elas valorizam muito os velhos. As pessoas antigas têm a habilitação de quem passou por várias etapas da experiência de viver. [...] ensinam as medicinas, a arte, os fundamentos de tudo que é relevante para ter uma boa vida.”
Ailton Krenak, Futuro ancestral, 2022
Terra Indígena Yanomami
A demarcação de terras indígenas no Brasil é um processo de reconhecimento dos direitos originários dos povos indígenas sobre seus territórios tradicionais e envolve todas as esferas do poder público, conforme a Constituição de 1988. Esse reconhecimento é essencial para a continuidade física, cultural e política desses povos. No entanto, o processo tem sido sistematicamente desarticulado, e a violência contra a existência indígena atravessa mais de quinhentos anos de história.
Nos anos 1970, Andujar estabeleceu um compromisso de vida com o povo Yanomami e sua fotografia se tornou ferramenta de escuta, denúncia, mobilização e transgressão. Foi responsável pela fundação da Comissão de Criação do Parque Yanomami, decisiva na luta pela demarcação da Terra Indígena Yanomami, homologada em 1992.
A demarcação é entendida aqui não apenas como direito jurídico, mas como medida vital de preservação de modos de vida, de sistemas de conhecimento e das florestas que sustentam múltiplas formas de existência.
Rafael Salimena - Redator Museu do Amanhã
Brasília, o deserto inicial
Na década de 1950, falava-se do “deserto do Planalto Central”, depois de desmatarem e aplainarem o terreno onde a capital federal seria erguida. Era ainda um deserto de gente, de plantas, de edifícios. Cláudia Andujar capturou esse momento psicológico do vazio de Brasília através de dois homens que caminham na vastidão sem horizonte.
Residente em Brasília, o artista Christus Nóbrega, em 2022, inventou uma história da cidade utilizando inteligência artificial. A escolha do local para implantar a cidade se deu por meio do “jogo de ossos” feito por uma matriarca negra da região para consultar os ancestrais sobre o melhor lugar para a nova capital do Brasil. Em parte, trata-se de uma analogia à visão de Dom Bosco, padroeiro da cidade, cuja visão do lugar ideal inspirou Juscelino Kubitschek. Christus criou uma cena ficcional em que o urbanista Lúcio Costa usa ossos para desenvolver o plano urbanístico de Brasília.
Paulo Herkenhoff - Curador
A vulnerabilidade é uma fresta na qual a vida, prestes a deixar de ser, pulsa com máxima intensidade. Assim, ela não é um ponto fraco, mas um ponto de tensão e equilíbrio entre infinito e finito. A cena expõe corpos que, como os nossos, são vulneráveis. De maneira paradoxal, nos diz tanto sobre a simpatia (isto é, "sentir juntos") quanto sobre a violência dos sistemas que conduzem ao fim.
Rafael Salimena - Redator Museu do Amanhã
Ao longo de quatro séculos, a arte de três mulheres audaciosas e encantadas com a Amazônia deu apoio à ciência e à conservação da floresta e sua gente. Maria Sibylla Merian (naturalista alemã; 1647–1717), veio para o Suriname em 1699, acompanhada de sua filha, para estudar a fauna e a flora da região. Produziu desenhos científicos, como o da metamorfose das borboletas, e trabalhou pelo resgate do saber ancestral sobre o uso das plantas. Emilie Snethlage (naturalista alemã; 1868-1929) dirigiu o Museu Goeldi entre 1914 e 1922 e fez pesquisas de campo sobre aves da Amazônia. Margaret Mee (ilustradora botânica inglesa; 1909–1988), amiga de Burle Marx e contemporânea de Cláudia Andujar, se radicou no bairro carioca de Santa Teresa, e desenhou plantas amazônicas in vivo com tal precisão artística, que até hoje são usados como apoio à taxonomia botânica: notadamente a flor-da-lua, que se abre à noite e de vida bastante efêmera. Já Claudia Andujar, com sua fotografia, foi a antropóloga visual que revelou ao mundo povos da floresta e seus meios de vida. Essas mulheres traduzem arte e ciência em sabedoria.
Fabio Scarano - Curador Museu do Amanhã
O mercúrio ainda é empregado por garimpeiros na Amazônia para amalgamar o ouro encontrado no solo ou na água. A técnica consiste em aquecer a mistura de sedimentos a uma temperatura tal que leva o mercúrio à evaporação, e resulta na separação do ouro. A ingestão do mercúrio empregado neste processo pode ser letal para pessoas e os animais, como os peixes. Essa forma de garimpo assassinou dolosamente grandes quantidades de pessoas indígenas e segue ameaçando várias comunidades, além de criar deformações na gestação de bebês indígenas.
Paulo Herkenhoff - Curador
“Explosão do garimpo ilegal na Amazônia despeja 100 toneladas de mercúrio na região. Metal encontrado em 2019 e 2020 na região de terras indígenas contamina água, solo e ar. Estudo achou altas concentrações em quatro a cada 10 crianças menores de cinco anos nas regiões Yanomami.”
Flávio Ilha, El País, 20 de julho de 2021.
Claudia Andujar e George Love, dois fotógrafos da revista Realidade, foram casados. Juntos, produziram o foto livro Amazônia em 1978 (editora Praxis, com projeto gráfico do artista plástico Wesley Duke Lee), de caráter precursor por sua abordagem visual e cinemática complexa, através de 150 imagens. Amazônia é uma festa visual para os olhos com a exposição dos esplendores naturais da floresta. No campo político, o livro expõe a relação seminal entre o povo Yanomami e seu território. O prefácio encomendado ao poeta amazônida Thiago de Mello foi censurado pela ditadura militar.
Paulo Herkenhoff - Curador
Previsão e registro da história
Brasil, década de 1970. Num só enquadramento, Andujar suspende o tempo: de um lado, o corpo-floresta — território indivisível que observa em silêncio; do outro, a máquina-nação que confunde clareira com pista de pouso. Helicópteros militares raspam o ar com a promessa estridente de um futuro que lhes é alheio. A cerca, mais do que dividir o espaço, esculpe ontologias em desacordo.
Durante o auge do regime, a Amazônia foi convertida em fronteira de segurança nacional, subordinada a um projeto desenvolvimentista que via na floresta um “vazio a ser ocupado”. Estradas cortavam territórios milenares, enquanto postos de atração promoviam contatos forçados sob a bandeira da “integração”, disseminando epidemias, deslocamentos e violência. Nesse cenário, o encontro à beira da cerca encena o confronto entre a Terra que sente, habita e pensa e a engrenagem que mede, reduz e administra — entre modos de existência que brotam da floresta e uma política que a transforma em cifra territorial.
Claudia Andujar tornou-se testemunha e aliada dos Yanomami. Sua relação ultrapassou os limites da fotografia e a levou a enfrentar o Estado: foi expulsa da região pela Funai durante a ditadura militar, após denunciar as violações aos direitos indígenas e seus efeitos devastadores. Em resposta, fundou a Comissão Pró-Yanomami em 1978, articulando uma rede internacional em defesa da demarcação territorial e dos direitos dos povos originários.
É nesse entrelugar que vibra a potência anunciadora da imagem. Cada hélice que corta o ar reencena um big bang particular do Brasil-moderno, engolindo cosmogonias inteiras sob a promessa de progresso e de um novo começo. Ao mesmo tempo, o gesto do registro rasga o véu civilizatório: imagem não é vitrine neutra, mas arena onde memórias reivindicam narrativa. Encará-la é tornar visível, fora do enquadramento, a engrenagem colonial que continua girando. Entre cercas e hélices, vemos modulações de um mesmo mundo em desacordo.
Camila Oliveira - Gerente de Conteúdo Museu do Amanhã
As malocas são habitações coletivas que compõem as aldeias indígenas. Elas são construídas em consonância com a natureza, atentas às condições climáticas e aos materiais locais de cada território, como a madeira, o cipó e a palha. Essas particularidades fazem com que cada aldeia seja única, refletindo sua cultura e identidade.
Elas nos revelam um saber construtivo milenar, transmitido e mantido através de gerações, como evidenciado pelos registros fotográficos pioneiros de Frisch, feitos por volta de 1867 na Amazônia. As malocas são verdadeiros centros de vida carregados de significados simbólicos, onde as atividades cotidianas e a convivência comunitária acontecem.
Um de seus aspectos mais intrigantes é o seu ciclo de renovação, que varia de acordo com cada etnia e nos ensina sobre a impermanência e a adaptação. Para os Yanomamis, por exemplo, a queima da maloca pode representar momento de migração, estratégia para controlar pragas ou ritual pós-morte de um líder. Em outros casos, quando a cobertura de palha se torna muito seca, a própria comunidade realiza sua queima controlada e, em um gesto de continuidade, constrói outra em seu lugar.
Julia Meira - Redatora Museu do Amanhã
Em Bento Gonçalves, no Rio Grande do Sul, por volta de 1967, Claudia Andujar acompanhou dona Odila, parteira que preservava práticas ancestrais do parto natural, e produziu fotografias emblemáticas de uma mulher dando à luz.
A série de fotografias dialoga com a obra História do parto, de Maspã Huni Kuin, mestra artesã da Terra Indígena Kaxinawá. Para o povo Huni Kuin (palavra que significa “povo verdadeiro”), a maternidade é um símbolo de continuidade da cultura, história e existência: da ancestralidade. Entre rezas, ervas e banhos, as mães indígenas passam por transformações que se manifestam na “mãe do corpo” — um ente invisível que coabita o corpo da mulher e lhe transmite saberes para acolher o bebê e proteger o futuro. A mulher-mãe preserva e resguarda a cultura, a ancestralidade e o território vivo de seu povo.
Rafael Salimena - Redator Museu do Amanhã
O contrato social da fotografia de Claudia Andujar pressupõe uma relação de confiança com o Outro, que se tornou as subjetividades do universo indígena. As tarefas de sua câmera são compreender a poética existencial dos povos indígenas e servir como arma de denúncia contra toda a violência (é o desafio proposto por Michel Foucault: “violentar a violência”) dirigida aos povos originários.
Paulo Herkenhoff - Curador
“Fotografar é o processo de descobrir o outro e, através do outro, a si mesmo.”
Claudia Andujar.
Paulo Herkenhoff - Curador
Inventoras Nonagenárias
Duas imigrantes européias, a judia suíça Claudia Andujar e a britânica Maureen Bisilliat, se tornaram grandes intérpretes da sociedade brasileira através da fotografia. O olhar cuidadoso de Bisilliat produziu ensaios, como uma reinterpretação do Grande Sertão: Veredas, de Guimarães Rosa, em preto e branco, ou Xingu a cores, do qual aqui se exibe um retrato. O olhar de Maureen se marca pela beleza estética que extrai desses universos culturais. Já as lentes de Claudia Andujar focalizam, quase sempre em preto e branco, detalhes dos rostos, da maternidade, das cerimônias religiosas, dos mitos, da pintura corporal e doutros elementos da cultura simbólica e material, sobretudo dos Yanomamis. Com isso, uma sequência de imagens ou uma única fotografia pode oferecer eminentemente uma visão antropológica de um universo sob o perigo de desaparecimento ou sob ameaças de genocídio.
Esse par de artistas nonagenárias homenageia todos os idosos, com qualquer que seja sua história de vida, para enunciar a contribuição individual de cada um para a sociedade.
Paulo Herkenhoff - Curador
Escolas Vivas
A Associação Selvagem cultiva estudos e atividades por meio de uma rede colaborativa, entrelaçando conhecimentos e expandindo os movimentos articulados à imensa sabedoria dos povos indígenas. Uma dessas atividades é o movimento Escolas Vivas, coordenado por Cristine Takuá, Educadora, mãe, parteira, pensadora Maxakali – ela habita, com seu companheiro Carlos Papá e seus filhos, Kauê e Djeguaka, a Terra Indígena Rio Silveira do Povo Guarani Mbyá.
Ela mantém vivos os diálogos e o compartilhamento das vivências e escutas das cinco Escolas Vivas hoje existentes: Shubu Hiwea, Huni Kuin; Aldeia Escola Floresta, Maxakali; Mbyá Arandu Porã, Guarani Mbyá; Bahserikowi, Tukano, Dessano e Tuyuka; Wanheke Ipanan Wha Walimanai, a Escola Viva Baniwa.
Este movimento de fortalecimento e transmissão de saberes indígenas, se volta para tecer redes de afetos e despertar memórias. Trata-se de uma alternativa à monocultura mental. Em diálogo com o tempo, entende códigos que nos rodeiam, e alcança percepções de tecnologias ancestrais que foram capturadas por formas de transmissão de saberes que habitam as escolas não vivas.
O primeiro momento das Escolas Vivas foi o Tempo do Despertar — estruturar o enfrentamento aos impactos da colonização da escolarização. O segundo momento foi o Tempo do Respiro, quando os caminhos vão se abrindo em ações coletivas, transformando a relação do ensinar-aprender pela troca constante de saberes ancestrais, ouvindo e sonhando histórias junto: a crianças, jovens e anciãos. À medida que cada comunidade se reconheça como Escolas Vivas ativas, chegaremos ao Tempo da Abundância. Nele, cada coletivo ativo transformará seu território no Tempo das Memórias Vivas e Ativas — um fluxo de trocas sensíveis e interações com todas as formas de vida.
Cristine Takuá
Legenda das obras Claudia Andujar
Claudia Andujar
Neuchâtel, Suíça, 1931
Vertical 18 (Papiú, RR), 1981–1983
Série Marcados
Impressão digital
Coleção da artista, Cortesia Galeria Vermelho
______________
Claudia Andujar
Neuchâtel, Suíça, 1931
Anticipating the Science of Tomorrow Modern Science—in its four hundred years since René Descartes (1596–1650)—has brought many good things to the world. However, there are at least three things that only worsen each year: greenhouse gas emissions (and consequent global warming); accelerated loss of biodiversity (which impacts water, air, land, and human health); and social inequality (capital and resources concentrated in the hands of a few). Modern Science itself has unequivocally demonstrated that these three problems require urgent solutions for the good of humankind and the planet. However, practical action in this direction has not kept pace with the evidence. This fact clearly indicates that Modern Science alone is not enough to reverse the increasingly worrying course the world has taken. In the current state of polycrisis, there is no knowledge that can be dispensed with, provided it is democratic and loving. Art and Spirituality, by touching emotions, are essential to drive the profound transformations that humanity needs to embrace. Claudia Andujar's work fosters precisely these encounters, as necessary as they are unusual: between information and emotion, between the ancestral and the modern, between the sacred and the transgressive, between the south and the north, between the visible and the invisible. The universe that these dialogues create is inhabited by a constellation of beings: humans and more-than-humans, shamans and mundanes, urban and forest dwellers, migrants and those who remain, artists and scientists. Claudia's universe anticipates the science of tomorrow: that which will emerge from the dialogue between all forms of loving and democratic knowledge, be they scientific, artistic, or spiritual. Fabio Scarano - Curator, Museum of Tomorrow History of Shadows in Brazilian Photography In *The Republic*, Plato imagined people chained in a cave, who would only have knowledge of the outside world through noises and shadows projected on the back of this grotto. In the world of shadows, only sunlight and freedom give access to the real and good world. The “Allegory of the Cave” is a metaphor for the theory of knowledge. Art is mimesis. In Brazilian photography, shadows connect generations that have operated through symbolic imagination. Claudia Andujar – adopting the Yanomami premise, and detached from her ego – projects her shadow onto a carpet of fallen leaves in a clear allusion to the forest with which she merges into a living unity, detached from her ego. Meanwhile, Bené Fonteles' Platonic shadow integrates with the red earth of Brasília, near a lizard: the artist is a mimetic being of the world. Paulo Lobo projects himself as the shadow of Oxóssi: the photographer, according to Vilém Flusser, hunts the object of his camera. The self-image that records the projection of Mário de Andrade's body onto the ground, *My Shadow*, denotes his well-known narcissism. Finally, in *In the Cave of the Shadow of My Ego*, Solon Ribeiro, former film curator at the Pompidou Centre, intertwines Plato's "Allegory of the Cave" with the egocentrism of Mário de Andrade. Paulo Herkenhoff - Exhibition Curator During the darkest years of the military dictatorship, artists such as Cildo Meireles and Claudia Andujar, each in their own way, created artistic expressions as forms of denunciation and resistance against the extermination of indigenous bodies and cultures. In *Reason and Madness*, Meireles explores the boundary between rationality and insanity with two bamboo arches bent almost to the point of breaking, held together by chains and padlocks. In one, the key of reason cannot reach the padlock. In the other, the key of madness crosses the chain, suggesting the sudden release of contained force. Reason is restraint, and madness is rupture. Built with materials from the forest, the structure of the work evokes the order of the world and the threat of its dismantling, while the metal becomes a metaphor for the colonial violence that invades indigenous territories. In the same historical context, Andujar's images resonate with this tension: his photography is the "madness" and the key that breaks the silences and violence of a supposedly rational narrative. Together, the works invite the visitor to consider what breaks when reason stands as a prison, and madness becomes escape and survival. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow "Perhaps I write because I don't know how to paint?" Clarice Lispector “I went to Clarice Lispector’s house to photograph her at the request of Claudia magazine, which in that year of 1961 was preparing a report on the writer. I remember little of that day lost in time, but there are details that I will always cherish. No one from the magazine accompanied me, and I was received with great kindness by that beautiful woman, dressed with simplicity and elegance. We spoke little. I wanted to make her feel comfortable for the photo and asked how she would like to pose. If I'm not mistaken, the idea of sitting down at the typewriter and starting to work on some text was Clarice's. And then she let herself be absorbed by the act of writing, completely immersed, almost without noticing my presence.” Claudia Andujar Judia Andujar The so-called Philosophical Journey, led by Alexandre Rodrigues Ferreira at the end of the 18th century, was an important Portuguese scientific expedition. For nine years, it traveled through north-central Brazil (Grão-Pará, Rio Negro, Mato Grosso), ascending the Amazon, Negro, Madeira, Guaporé, and Paraguay rivers, and produced a vast collection of approximately nine hundred engravings depicting the fauna, flora, and lifestyles of the indigenous peoples. Ferreira initiated an original classification of Amazonian ethnic groups, based on bodies, artifacts, dwellings, and clothing. Among the records, two images stand out showing artifacts and an indigenous woman inhaling paricá snuff. The seeds of the paricá tree (Schizolobium amazonicum Huber ex Ducke) are used in the production of snuff, which is applied in rituals for healing, physical strengthening, and meditative practices. This tree, venerated by indigenous peoples, represents a link to ancestral wisdom and natural healing. The Philosophical Journey, therefore, fostered an encounter between modern science and ancestral science. Such dialogue is even more necessary in times of profound environmental and spiritual crisis, as is the case now. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow “At the time, I didn't care about not understanding the Yanomami language. We understood each other with gestures and mime. I found the answers in their gaze. I didn't miss the exchange of words. I wanted to observe, absorb, to recreate in the form of images what I felt. Perhaps dialogue would even interfere. Only later, when I finished photographing, did I seek verbal communication.” Claudia Andujar (1975) Paula Sampaio, from Minas Gerais and residing in Belém, is a tireless warrior who fights for the exposure of the disasters produced by dictatorial or even democratic governments against the Amazon, ranging from the construction of the Trans-Amazonian Highway to the Tucuruí dam in Pará. During the low water season, the trunks of trees submerged in Lake Tucuruí emerge above the water—they are transformed by Paula Sampaio's lens into lacerated beings crying out for help, but without social heeding. These photographs resulted in the essay "Lake of Oblivion." Paulo Herkenhoff - Exhibition Curator For many indigenous peoples, feathers and plumes express beauty and power. The making and use of these adornments is one of the most elaborate forms of indigenous art. A piece only achieves its full meaning when applied to the body. It also serves as an insignia, lending prestige to spiritual leaders, political chiefs, and warriors. This art requires knowledge of the fauna, technique, and artistic sensitivity—and can be identified by the unique styles of each tribe or region—and is transmitted through generations. The refinement of this science is a tradition that reveals the spiritual. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow “Article I. It is decreed that now truth prevails / that now life prevails, / and that hand in hand, / we will all work for true life.” Thiago de Mello, Statutes of Man (Permanent Institutional Act) The Amazon through the eyes of indigenous people, gold miners, and rubber tappers The representation of life in the Amazon has taken a qualitative leap since the 1960s, starting with the photography of Claudia Andujar, and painters who interpret the cultural life, the imaginary, the mythologies, the conflicts, and the work of the riverside dwellers. Paulo Herkenhoff - Exhibition Curator Chico da Silva (1910–1986) was born in Acre. His father migrated from Ceará to Acre during a drought. Later, Chico returned to Fortaleza. He painted jungle animals as apparitions and mythological beings. Paulo Herkenhoff - Exhibition Curator Hélio Melo (1926–2001) was born in Amazonas and lived in Acre. He earned his living in the rubber plantations. His main work consists of green drawings made with aniline extracted from the rubber tree leaf. His work celebrated daily life in the rubber plantations and popular speculations (“if a horse is in a tree, someone put it there”). Paulo Herkenhoff - Exhibition Curator Jair Gabriel was born in Rondônia (1950). From the age of ten, he helped his father earn a living in the gold mines. A few decades ago, he became a painter, achieving sophisticated artistic results through pointillism. He represented imaginary or fabulous beings, such as mermaids and dragons. Paulo Herkenhoff - Curator Paulo Sampaio was one of the "rubber soldiers," as the young men who, instead of enlisting in the Brazilian Army in Italy, chose to harvest the sap of rubber trees in the Amazon were called. The goal was to produce rubber, since the American Army depended on this raw material imported from Southeast Asia. Paulo Sampaio depicted the life of the rubber tapper. In a series of paintings, he documented the penetration into the jungle, the attack by indigenous people defending their lands, their killing by the rubber tappers, and the devastation of the forest as a result of the occupation. Paulo Herkenhoff - Exhibition Curator Circumstances (Introduction text from the book Marked. São Paulo: Cosac Naify, 2009) 1944 At thirteen, I had my first encounter with those "marked for death." It was in Transylvania, Hungary, at the end of World War II. My father, my paternal relatives, my school friends, all with the Star of David visibly sewn onto their clothes, yellow, at chest level, to identify them as "marked," to assault them, harass them, and later deport them to extermination camps. There was a feeling in the air that something terrible was about to happen. In the midst of this atmosphere of perplexity, Gyuri invited me for a walk in the park. It was a confession of love. That's the only way I can describe his desire for us to walk together. It was something we did guided by intuition. It was a walk simply to tell me: "We go to the same school. I noticed you. You are special. And beautiful." I also looked for him, day after day, walking down the street, always at the same time. I knew I would see him in passing. I feel the emotion tightening my throat. On that day in June 1944, we decided to meet and confess our feelings. The Jewish boy was marked with the yellow star, the mogendovid. He was fifteen years old, and I was thirteen. We walked, emotional, without speaking, glancing furtively at each other. I knew something important was happening. It was the birth of love. I felt a tingling in my skin. At the end of the walk, I received a shy and silent kiss that only touched my mouth. I remember my lips burning for hours on end. A love, in such special circumstances, is never forgotten. When I went out with Gyuri publicly, I knew I was defying my time. I never saw him again. For years, I kept a portrait of him in the medallion I wore around my neck. 1980 Almost forty years later, already living in Brazil as a photographer engaged in indigenous issues, I accompanied some doctors on relief expeditions in the health field. From 1973 onwards, during the years of the “Brazilian miracle,” the Yanomami territory in the Brazilian Amazon was invaded with the opening of a road. With mining, the search for gold, diamonds, cassiterite, and clandestine and not-so-clandestine mining operations flourished. Many indigenous people were victimized, scarred by these dark times. Our modest rescue group—just two doctors and myself—ventured into the Amazon rainforest. The aim was to begin organizing work in the health field. One of my tasks was to register the Yanomami communities on index cards. To do this, we hung a numbered tag around the neck of each indigenous person: “vaccinated.” It was an attempt at salvation. We created a new identity for them, undoubtedly a system alien to their culture. It is the circumstances of this work that I intend to show through these images taken at the time. This is not about justifying the mark placed on his chest, but about making explicit that it refers to a sensitive, ambiguous terrain that can provoke embarrassment and pain. The same pain I felt for love when stepping on the grass in the park, an impossible love with Gyuri. He died in Auschwitz that same year, 1944. 2008 It is this ambiguous feeling that leads me, sixty years later, to transform the simple record of the Yanomami as "people"—marked to live—into a work that questions the method of labeling beings for various purposes. Today I see this work, an objective effort to order and identify a population at risk of extinction, as something on the border of a conceptual work. Claudia Andujar “We, the Yanomami and Ye'kwana peoples, recognize the work that Claudia has done. She demonstrated commitment and love for the Yanomami population. She greatly helped our elder leaders. She demonstrated her ability and knowledge of the Yanomami culture to show the world who we are.” Dario Kopenawa (2021) In 1969, during the military dictatorship, Andujar boarded alone the “Trem Baiano” (a bus that carried migrants back to Bahia), connecting Roosevelt station (now known as Brás station) in São Paulo to Salvador, Bahia. On a seven-day journey, Claudia documented the faces, silences, and weariness of a forced displacement by the Department of Immigration and Colonization. Her images reveal inequality and broken hope, which earned the vehicle the nickname “Devil's Train.” Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow In the 1950s and 1960s, in the heart of São Paulo—a city teeming with people working or shopping—Claudia Andujar and Flávio de Carvalho, each in their own time, turned the street into a stage for rethinking ways of being in the world. In *Rua Direita*, around 1970, by placing her camera on the ground, Andujar inverts the perspective and magnifies individuals in front of the architecture with a touch of phantasmagoria, making people larger than the buildings and thus constructing her own narrative. Years earlier, in 1956, Flávio de Carvalho had also occupied the urban center and made it a laboratory of art and life. *Experiência n. 3* was an artistic and investigative project—a study on the history The story of the clothing resulted in a transgressive performance that combined art, social values, and public space. In the action, Flávio paraded in his humorous "tropical outfit"—a men's summer outfit as a critique of the Brazilian urban habit of imitating European fashion—consisting of a transparent blouse open under the arms, a pleated skirt/bermuda shorts, fishnet stockings, and sandals. The performance challenged moral codes, revealing his body as territory and instrument of power as he walked against the flow of his time. The impact on passersby was immense! Together, these works remind us that crossing the city can be (and often is) a political gesture, capable of sustaining, resisting, or disrupting daily life when it encounters art along the way. Cauê Alves juxtaposed Flávio de Carvalho's photographs with those of Claudia Andujar in an exhibition at the MAM in São Paulo, and now the works of the artist duo meet again. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow The Czech-Brazilian philosopher Vilém Flusser (1920–1941), a professor at USP (University of São Paulo), categorically declared that São Paulo is not a city. This shocking statement resulted from an analysis of the urban fabric of São Paulo, with more than one "center." The symbols of political, religious, and economic power, as well as public monuments and cultural symbols, which in the Western city model were concentrated in a single region, were now dispersed throughout the vast territory of the metropolis. For Flusser, it was necessary to consider what the vibrant metropolis would be in urbanistic terms. Cláudia Andujar thematically dispersed her São Paulo through photographic series that included the comings and goings of migrants, the hurried pace of pedestrians on Rua Direita, aerial views, her own journey through the city seen from inside her Volkswagen Beetle, or self-portraits from her vantage point (her own apartment), from where she could see the world lined up with skyscrapers. Approaching the subjectivity of São Paulo's inhabitants, she contemplates the city's beauty through angles of vision, framing, color, and laboratory procedures; Cláudia Andujar lovingly invented her own particular São Paulo. Paulo Herkenhoff - Curator “São Paulo is not a city.” Vilém Flusser In 1976, Claudia Andujar and her partner George Love began a journey through Brazil, from São Paulo to Roraima, aboard a black Volkswagen Beetle. The car, taken to serve the Yanomami community in emergencies, became a mobile studio, even hitching a ride on a cement ferry to cross rivers. An extension of the photographer's gaze, the Beetle's windows functioned as a second lens for her camera, recording scenes of a country suspended by the military dictatorship. Upon arriving in Yanomami lands, the vehicle gained a new meaning when it was renamed "Watupari," or "wingless vulture." The machine became legendary, foreshadowing Andujar's new and unavoidable mission as an activist. These images, enhanced with color, perhaps reveal precisely the colorful light that the dictatorship tried to extinguish. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow On August 19, 2019, the sky over the city of São Paulo manifested an astonishing phenomenon: it darkened in the middle of the afternoon. The event surprised and gained the attention of all of Brazil. According to meteorologists, it was the result of different atmospheric factors. A mass of polar air advanced over the state and encountered high relative humidity in the air. Simultaneously, smoke particles from fires in the Amazon and Bolivia were carried by winds to São Paulo. This scenario combined with the city's air, saturated with pollution. The mixture of cold air and a large quantity of polluting particles prevented sunlight from entering and caused the darkening in the middle of the day. The episode became known as “the day that turned into night.” Everything is connected, and the images reflect the relationships and connections between ways of life in different territories. How does our way of life impact the lives of people in distant places? Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow Carlos Papá's philosophy confronts the reductionist logic of modern science, which reduces the whole to parts. In Guarani cosmology, everything is one body, and science and spirituality are inseparable: knowledge is born from listening to and living with the invisible and requires entering the darkness of the unknown. For the Guarani, "The Atlantic Forest is not the Atlantic Forest. 'Atlantic' is the name of the sea that the juruá created. For us, the sea is the sea. Wherever it is, the sea is the sea. For us, there is no such thing as the Pacific and the Atlantic." Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow In 1967, Claudia Andujar went to Congonhas do Campo, Minas Gerais, to photograph the medium Zé Arigó, famous for his spiritual surgeries that intrigued doctors, believers, and curious onlookers. Arigó attracted crowds seeking healing, forming endless lines that mixed faith, despair, and controversy. Through Claudia's lens, the bodies that submitted to the improvised blade reveal extreme vulnerability and strength. From belief. The images expose the almost cinematic atmosphere of a Brazil where mystery, spirituality, and healing intersect in a single gesture. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow Fire is perhaps the most eloquent of the four elements in expressing the ambiguities of the natural world. It creates a tenuous boundary made of embers that separates light from mystery, the sacred from the profane, ritual from devastation, comfort from incineration. Together, the images of Claudia Andujar, Frans Krajcberg, and João Farkas reveal the fascination of the flame that ritualizes and manipulates, and the horror of the fire that consumes and destroys. The images of these artists highlight what science demonstrates: fire is a sacred element that requires reverence and care. Our grandmothers and grandfathers already warned: "whoever plays with fire gets burned." Fabio Scarano - Curator, Museum of Tomorrow “The Krenak children yearn to be ancient. This is because [...] children still have the freedom and autonomy to aspire to worlds, they greatly value the elderly. The elders have the skills of those who have gone through various stages of the experience of living. [...] they teach medicines, art, the fundamentals of everything that is relevant to having a good life.” Ailton Krenak, Ancestral Future, 2022 Yanomami Indigenous Land The demarcation of indigenous lands in Brazil is a process of recognizing the original rights of indigenous peoples over their traditional territories and involves all spheres of public power, according to the 1988 Constitution. This recognition is essential for the physical, cultural, and political continuity of these peoples. However, the process has been systematically dismantled, and violence against indigenous existence spans more than five hundred years of history. In the 1970s, Andujar made a lifelong commitment to the Yanomami people, and her photography became a tool for listening, denouncing, mobilizing, and transgressing. She was responsible for founding the Yanomami Park Creation Commission, which was decisive in the struggle for the demarcation of the Yanomami Indigenous Land, ratified in 1992. Demarcation is understood here not only as a legal right, but as a vital measure for preserving ways of life, systems of knowledge, and the forests that sustain multiple forms of existence. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow Brasília, the initial desert In the 1950s, people spoke of the “desert of the Central Plateau,” after the land where the federal capital would be built was deforested and leveled. It was still a desert of people, plants, and buildings. Cláudia Andujar captured this psychological moment of Brasília's emptiness through two men walking in the vast, horizonless expanse. A resident of Brasília, artist Christus Nóbrega, in 2022, invented a history of the city using artificial intelligence. The choice of location for the city was based on a "bone game" played by a Black matriarch from the region to consult her ancestors about the best place for Brazil's new capital. In part, it is an analogy to the vision of Dom Bosco, the city's patron saint, whose vision of the ideal place inspired Juscelino Kubitschek. Christus created a fictional scene in which urban planner Lúcio Costa uses bones to develop Brasília's urban plan. Paulo Herkenhoff - Curator Vulnerability is a crack in which life, about to cease to be, pulsates with maximum intensity. Thus, it is not a weak point, but a point of tension and balance between the infinite and the finite. The scene exposes bodies that, like ours, are vulnerable. Paradoxically, it tells us as much about empathy (that is, "feeling together") as about the violence of the systems that lead to the end. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow Over four centuries, the art of three audacious women, enchanted by the Amazon, has supported science and the conservation of the forest and its people. Maria Sibylla Merian (German naturalist; 1647–1717) came to Suriname in 1699, accompanied by her daughter, to study the fauna and flora of the region. She produced scientific drawings, such as that of the metamorphosis of butterflies, and worked to recover ancestral knowledge about the use of plants. Emilie Snethlage (German naturalist; 1868-1929) directed the Goeldi Museum between 1914 and 1922 and conducted field research on Amazonian birds. Margaret Mee (English botanical illustrator; 1909–1988), a friend of Burle Marx and contemporary of Cláudia Andujar, settled in the Santa Teresa neighborhood of Rio de Janeiro and drew Amazonian plants in vivo with such artistic precision that they are still used today to support botanical taxonomy: notably the moonflower, which opens at night and has a rather ephemeral life. Cláudia Andujar, with her photography, was the visual anthropologist who revealed to the world the forest peoples and their ways of life. These women translate art and science into wisdom. Fabio Scarano - Curator, Museum of Tomorrow Mercury is still used by gold miners in the Amazon to amalgamate the gold found in the soil The technique involves heating the sediment mixture to a temperature that causes the mercury to evaporate, resulting in the separation of gold. Ingestion of the mercury used in this process can be lethal to people and animals, such as fish. This form of mining has deliberately murdered large numbers of Indigenous people and continues to threaten several communities, in addition to causing birth defects in Indigenous babies. Paulo Herkenhoff - Curator “Illegal mining explosion in the Amazon dumps 100 tons of mercury into the region. Metal found in 2019 and 2020 in the Indigenous lands contaminates water, soil and air. Study found high concentrations in four out of ten children under five years old in the Yanomami regions.” Flávio Ilha, El País, July 20, 2021. Claudia Andujar and George Love, two photographers for Realidade magazine, were married. Together, they produced the photo book Amazônia in 1978 (Praxis publishing house, with graphic design by visual artist Wesley Duke Lee), a pioneering work due to its complex visual and cinematic approach, through 150 images. Amazônia is a visual feast for the eyes, showcasing the natural splendors of the forest. In the political field, the book exposes the seminal relationship between the Yanomami people and their territory. The preface, commissioned from the Amazonian poet Thiago de Mello, was censored by the military dictatorship. Paulo Herkenhoff - Curator Prediction and Recording of History Brazil, 1970s. In a single frame, Andujar suspends time: on one side, the forest-body—an indivisible territory that observes in silence; on the other, the nation-machine that confuses clearing with runway. Military helicopters skim the air with the strident promise of a future that is alien to them. The fence, more than dividing space, sculpts ontologies in discord. During the regime's height, the Amazon was converted into a national security border, subordinated to a developmentalist project that saw the forest as a "void to be occupied." Roads cut through ancient territories, while checkpoints promoted forced contact under the banner of "integration," spreading epidemics, displacement, and violence. In this scenario, the encounter at the edge of the fence stages the confrontation between the Earth that feels, inhabits, and thinks, and the machinery that measures, reduces, and administers—between modes of existence that spring from the forest and a politics that transforms it into a territorial cipher. Claudia Andujar became a witness and ally of the Yanomami. Her relationship transcended the limits of photography and led her to confront the State: she was expelled from the region by FUNAI (National Indian Foundation) during the military dictatorship, after denouncing the violations of indigenous rights and their devastating effects. In response, she founded the Pro-Yanomami Commission in 1978, articulating an international network in defense of territorial demarcation and the rights of indigenous peoples. It is in this in-between space that the announcing power of the image vibrates. Each propeller that cuts through the air reenacts a particular big bang of modern Brazil, swallowing entire cosmogonies under the promise of progress and a new beginning. At the same time, the gesture of recording tears the civilizational veil: the image is not a neutral showcase, but an arena where memories claim narrative. To confront it is to make visible, outside the frame, the colonial machinery that continues to turn. Between fences and propellers, we see modulations of the same world in discord. Camila Oliveira - Content Manager, Museum of Tomorrow The malocas are collective dwellings that make up the indigenous villages. They are built in harmony with nature, attentive to the climatic conditions and local materials of each territory, such as wood, vines, and straw. These particularities make each village unique, reflecting its culture and identity. They reveal a millennial constructive knowledge, transmitted and maintained through generations, as evidenced by Frisch's pioneering photographic records, made around 1867 in the Amazon. The malocas are true centers of life, laden with symbolic meanings, where daily activities and community life take place. One of their most intriguing aspects is their cycle of renewal, which varies according to each ethnic group and teaches us about impermanence and adaptation. For the Yanomami, for example, the burning of the maloca can represent a moment of migration, a strategy to control pests, or a post-death ritual for a leader. In other cases, when the thatched roof becomes too dry, the community itself performs a controlled burning and, in a gesture of continuity, builds another in its place. Julia Meira - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow In Bento Gonçalves, Rio Grande do Sul, around 1967, Claudia Andujar accompanied Dona Odila, a midwife who preserved ancestral practices of natural childbirth, and produced emblematic photographs of a woman giving birth. The series of photographs dialogues with the work *History of Childbirth*, by Maspã Huni Kuin, a master artisan from the Indigenous Land.
Anticipating the Science of Tomorrow Modern Science—in its four hundred years since René Descartes (1596–1650)—has brought many good things to the world. However, there are at least three things that only worsen each year: greenhouse gas emissions (and consequent global warming); accelerated loss of biodiversity (which impacts water, air, land, and human health); and social inequality (capital and resources concentrated in the hands of a few). Modern Science itself has unequivocally demonstrated that these three problems require urgent solutions for the good of humankind and the planet. However, practical action in this direction has not kept pace with the evidence. This fact clearly indicates that Modern Science alone is not enough to reverse the increasingly worrying course the world has taken. In the current state of polycrisis, there is no knowledge that can be dispensed with, provided it is democratic and loving. Art and Spirituality, by touching emotions, are essential to drive the profound transformations that humanity needs to embrace. Claudia Andujar's work fosters precisely these encounters, as necessary as they are unusual: between information and emotion, between the ancestral and the modern, between the sacred and the transgressive, between the south and the north, between the visible and the invisible. The universe that these dialogues create is inhabited by a constellation of beings: humans and more-than-humans, shamans and mundanes, urban and forest dwellers, migrants and those who remain, artists and scientists. Claudia's universe anticipates the science of tomorrow: that which will emerge from the dialogue between all forms of loving and democratic knowledge, be they scientific, artistic, or spiritual. Fabio Scarano - Curator, Museum of Tomorrow History of Shadows in Brazilian Photography In *The Republic*, Plato imagined people chained in a cave, who would only have knowledge of the outside world through noises and shadows projected on the back of this grotto. In the world of shadows, only sunlight and freedom give access to the real and good world. The “Allegory of the Cave” is a metaphor for the theory of knowledge. Art is mimesis. In Brazilian photography, shadows connect generations that have operated through symbolic imagination. Claudia Andujar – adopting the Yanomami premise, and detached from her ego – projects her shadow onto a carpet of fallen leaves in a clear allusion to the forest with which she merges into a living unity, detached from her ego. Meanwhile, Bené Fonteles' Platonic shadow integrates with the red earth of Brasília, near a lizard: the artist is a mimetic being of the world. Paulo Lobo projects himself as the shadow of Oxóssi: the photographer, according to Vilém Flusser, hunts the object of his camera. The self-image that records the projection of Mário de Andrade's body onto the ground, *My Shadow*, denotes his well-known narcissism. Finally, in *In the Cave of the Shadow of My Ego*, Solon Ribeiro, former film curator at the Pompidou Centre, intertwines Plato's "Allegory of the Cave" with the egocentrism of Mário de Andrade. Paulo Herkenhoff - Exhibition Curator During the darkest years of the military dictatorship, artists such as Cildo Meireles and Claudia Andujar, each in their own way, created artistic expressions as forms of denunciation and resistance against the extermination of indigenous bodies and cultures. In *Reason and Madness*, Meireles explores the boundary between rationality and insanity with two bamboo arches bent almost to the point of breaking, held together by chains and padlocks. In one, the key of reason cannot reach the padlock. In the other, the key of madness crosses the chain, suggesting the sudden release of contained force. Reason is restraint, and madness is rupture. Built with materials from the forest, the structure of the work evokes the order of the world and the threat of its dismantling, while the metal becomes a metaphor for the colonial violence that invades indigenous territories. In the same historical context, Andujar's images resonate with this tension: his photography is the "madness" and the key that breaks the silences and violence of a supposedly rational narrative. Together, the works invite the visitor to consider what breaks when reason stands as a prison, and madness becomes escape and survival. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow "Perhaps I write because I don't know how to paint?" Clarice Lispector “I went to Clarice Lispector’s house to photograph her at the request of Claudia magazine, which in that year of 1961 was preparing a report on the writer. I remember little of that day lost in time, but there are details that I will always cherish. No one from the magazine accompanied me, and I was received with great kindness by that beautiful woman, dressed with simplicity and elegance. We spoke little. I wanted to make her feel comfortable for the photo and asked how she would like to pose. If I'm not mistaken, the idea of sitting down at the typewriter and starting to work on some text was Clarice's. And then she let herself be absorbed by the act of writing, completely immersed, almost without noticing my presence.” Claudia Andujar Judia Andujar The so-called Philosophical Journey, led by Alexandre Rodrigues Ferreira at the end of the 18th century, was an important Portuguese scientific expedition. For nine years, it traveled through north-central Brazil (Grão-Pará, Rio Negro, Mato Grosso), ascending the Amazon, Negro, Madeira, Guaporé, and Paraguay rivers, and produced a vast collection of approximately nine hundred engravings depicting the fauna, flora, and lifestyles of the indigenous peoples. Ferreira initiated an original classification of Amazonian ethnic groups, based on bodies, artifacts, dwellings, and clothing. Among the records, two images stand out showing artifacts and an indigenous woman inhaling paricá snuff. The seeds of the paricá tree (Schizolobium amazonicum Huber ex Ducke) are used in the production of snuff, which is applied in rituals for healing, physical strengthening, and meditative practices. This tree, venerated by indigenous peoples, represents a link to ancestral wisdom and natural healing. The Philosophical Journey, therefore, fostered an encounter between modern science and ancestral science. Such dialogue is even more necessary in times of profound environmental and spiritual crisis, as is the case now. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow “At the time, I didn't care about not understanding the Yanomami language. We understood each other with gestures and mime. I found the answers in their gaze. I didn't miss the exchange of words. I wanted to observe, absorb, to recreate in the form of images what I felt. Perhaps dialogue would even interfere. Only later, when I finished photographing, did I seek verbal communication.” Claudia Andujar (1975) Paula Sampaio, from Minas Gerais and residing in Belém, is a tireless warrior who fights for the exposure of the disasters produced by dictatorial or even democratic governments against the Amazon, ranging from the construction of the Trans-Amazonian Highway to the Tucuruí dam in Pará. During the low water season, the trunks of trees submerged in Lake Tucuruí emerge above the water—they are transformed by Paula Sampaio's lens into lacerated beings crying out for help, but without social heeding. These photographs resulted in the essay "Lake of Oblivion." Paulo Herkenhoff - Exhibition Curator For many indigenous peoples, feathers and plumes express beauty and power. The making and use of these adornments is one of the most elaborate forms of indigenous art. A piece only achieves its full meaning when applied to the body. It also serves as an insignia, lending prestige to spiritual leaders, political chiefs, and warriors. This art requires knowledge of the fauna, technique, and artistic sensitivity—and can be identified by the unique styles of each tribe or region—and is transmitted through generations. The refinement of this science is a tradition that reveals the spiritual. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow “Article I. It is decreed that now truth prevails / that now life prevails, / and that hand in hand, / we will all work for true life.” Thiago de Mello, Statutes of Man (Permanent Institutional Act) The Amazon through the eyes of indigenous people, gold miners, and rubber tappers The representation of life in the Amazon has taken a qualitative leap since the 1960s, starting with the photography of Claudia Andujar, and painters who interpret the cultural life, the imaginary, the mythologies, the conflicts, and the work of the riverside dwellers. Paulo Herkenhoff - Exhibition Curator Chico da Silva (1910–1986) was born in Acre. His father migrated from Ceará to Acre during a drought. Later, Chico returned to Fortaleza. He painted jungle animals as apparitions and mythological beings. Paulo Herkenhoff - Exhibition Curator Hélio Melo (1926–2001) was born in Amazonas and lived in Acre. He earned his living in the rubber plantations. His main work consists of green drawings made with aniline extracted from the rubber tree leaf. His work celebrated daily life in the rubber plantations and popular speculations (“if a horse is in a tree, someone put it there”). Paulo Herkenhoff - Exhibition Curator Jair Gabriel was born in Rondônia (1950). From the age of ten, he helped his father earn a living in the gold mines. A few decades ago, he became a painter, achieving sophisticated artistic results through pointillism. He represented imaginary or fabulous beings, such as mermaids and dragons. Paulo Herkenhoff - Curator Paulo Sampaio was one of the "rubber soldiers," as the young men who, instead of enlisting in the Brazilian Army in Italy, chose to harvest the sap of rubber trees in the Amazon were called. The goal was to produce rubber, since the American Army depended on this raw material imported from Southeast Asia. Paulo Sampaio depicted the life of the rubber tapper. In a series of paintings, he documented the penetration into the jungle, the attack by indigenous people defending their lands, their killing by the rubber tappers, and the devastation of the forest as a result of the occupation. Paulo Herkenhoff - Exhibition Curator Circumstances (Introduction text from the book Marked. São Paulo: Cosac Naify, 2009) 1944 At thirteen, I had my first encounter with those "marked for death." It was in Transylvania, Hungary, at the end of World War II. My father, my paternal relatives, my school friends, all with the Star of David visibly sewn onto their clothes, yellow, at chest level, to identify them as "marked," to assault them, harass them, and later deport them to extermination camps. There was a feeling in the air that something terrible was about to happen. In the midst of this atmosphere of perplexity, Gyuri invited me for a walk in the park. It was a confession of love. That's the only way I can describe his desire for us to walk together. It was something we did guided by intuition. It was a walk simply to tell me: "We go to the same school. I noticed you. You are special. And beautiful." I also looked for him, day after day, walking down the street, always at the same time. I knew I would see him in passing. I feel the emotion tightening my throat. On that day in June 1944, we decided to meet and confess our feelings. The Jewish boy was marked with the yellow star, the mogendovid. He was fifteen years old, and I was thirteen. We walked, emotional, without speaking, glancing furtively at each other. I knew something important was happening. It was the birth of love. I felt a tingling in my skin. At the end of the walk, I received a shy and silent kiss that only touched my mouth. I remember my lips burning for hours on end. A love, in such special circumstances, is never forgotten. When I went out with Gyuri publicly, I knew I was defying my time. I never saw him again. For years, I kept a portrait of him in the medallion I wore around my neck. 1980 Almost forty years later, already living in Brazil as a photographer engaged in indigenous issues, I accompanied some doctors on relief expeditions in the health field. From 1973 onwards, during the years of the “Brazilian miracle,” the Yanomami territory in the Brazilian Amazon was invaded with the opening of a road. With mining, the search for gold, diamonds, cassiterite, and clandestine and not-so-clandestine mining operations flourished. Many indigenous people were victimized, scarred by these dark times. Our modest rescue group—just two doctors and myself—ventured into the Amazon rainforest. The aim was to begin organizing work in the health field. One of my tasks was to register the Yanomami communities on index cards. To do this, we hung a numbered tag around the neck of each indigenous person: “vaccinated.” It was an attempt at salvation. We created a new identity for them, undoubtedly a system alien to their culture. It is the circumstances of this work that I intend to show through these images taken at the time. This is not about justifying the mark placed on his chest, but about making explicit that it refers to a sensitive, ambiguous terrain that can provoke embarrassment and pain. The same pain I felt for love when stepping on the grass in the park, an impossible love with Gyuri. He died in Auschwitz that same year, 1944. 2008 It is this ambiguous feeling that leads me, sixty years later, to transform the simple record of the Yanomami as "people"—marked to live—into a work that questions the method of labeling beings for various purposes. Today I see this work, an objective effort to order and identify a population at risk of extinction, as something on the border of a conceptual work. Claudia Andujar “We, the Yanomami and Ye'kwana peoples, recognize the work that Claudia has done. She demonstrated commitment and love for the Yanomami population. She greatly helped our elder leaders. She demonstrated her ability and knowledge of the Yanomami culture to show the world who we are.” Dario Kopenawa (2021) In 1969, during the military dictatorship, Andujar boarded alone the “Trem Baiano” (a bus that carried migrants back to Bahia), connecting Roosevelt station (now known as Brás station) in São Paulo to Salvador, Bahia. On a seven-day journey, Claudia documented the faces, silences, and weariness of a forced displacement by the Department of Immigration and Colonization. Her images reveal inequality and broken hope, which earned the vehicle the nickname “Devil's Train.” Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow In the 1950s and 1960s, in the heart of São Paulo—a city teeming with people working or shopping—Claudia Andujar and Flávio de Carvalho, each in their own time, turned the street into a stage for rethinking ways of being in the world. In *Rua Direita*, around 1970, by placing her camera on the ground, Andujar inverts the perspective and magnifies individuals in front of the architecture with a touch of phantasmagoria, making people larger than the buildings and thus constructing her own narrative. Years earlier, in 1956, Flávio de Carvalho had also occupied the urban center and made it a laboratory of art and life. *Experiência n. 3* was an artistic and investigative project—a study on the history The story of the clothing resulted in a transgressive performance that combined art, social values, and public space. In the action, Flávio paraded in his humorous "tropical outfit"—a men's summer outfit as a critique of the Brazilian urban habit of imitating European fashion—consisting of a transparent blouse open under the arms, a pleated skirt/bermuda shorts, fishnet stockings, and sandals. The performance challenged moral codes, revealing his body as territory and instrument of power as he walked against the flow of his time. The impact on passersby was immense! Together, these works remind us that crossing the city can be (and often is) a political gesture, capable of sustaining, resisting, or disrupting daily life when it encounters art along the way. Cauê Alves juxtaposed Flávio de Carvalho's photographs with those of Claudia Andujar in an exhibition at the MAM in São Paulo, and now the works of the artist duo meet again. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow The Czech-Brazilian philosopher Vilém Flusser (1920–1941), a professor at USP (University of São Paulo), categorically declared that São Paulo is not a city. This shocking statement resulted from an analysis of the urban fabric of São Paulo, with more than one "center." The symbols of political, religious, and economic power, as well as public monuments and cultural symbols, which in the Western city model were concentrated in a single region, were now dispersed throughout the vast territory of the metropolis. For Flusser, it was necessary to consider what the vibrant metropolis would be in urbanistic terms. Cláudia Andujar thematically dispersed her São Paulo through photographic series that included the comings and goings of migrants, the hurried pace of pedestrians on Rua Direita, aerial views, her own journey through the city seen from inside her Volkswagen Beetle, or self-portraits from her vantage point (her own apartment), from where she could see the world lined up with skyscrapers. Approaching the subjectivity of São Paulo's inhabitants, she contemplates the city's beauty through angles of vision, framing, color, and laboratory procedures; Cláudia Andujar lovingly invented her own particular São Paulo. Paulo Herkenhoff - Curator “São Paulo is not a city.” Vilém Flusser In 1976, Claudia Andujar and her partner George Love began a journey through Brazil, from São Paulo to Roraima, aboard a black Volkswagen Beetle. The car, taken to serve the Yanomami community in emergencies, became a mobile studio, even hitching a ride on a cement ferry to cross rivers. An extension of the photographer's gaze, the Beetle's windows functioned as a second lens for her camera, recording scenes of a country suspended by the military dictatorship. Upon arriving in Yanomami lands, the vehicle gained a new meaning when it was renamed "Watupari," or "wingless vulture." The machine became legendary, foreshadowing Andujar's new and unavoidable mission as an activist. These images, enhanced with color, perhaps reveal precisely the colorful light that the dictatorship tried to extinguish. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow On August 19, 2019, the sky over the city of São Paulo manifested an astonishing phenomenon: it darkened in the middle of the afternoon. The event surprised and gained the attention of all of Brazil. According to meteorologists, it was the result of different atmospheric factors. A mass of polar air advanced over the state and encountered high relative humidity in the air. Simultaneously, smoke particles from fires in the Amazon and Bolivia were carried by winds to São Paulo. This scenario combined with the city's air, saturated with pollution. The mixture of cold air and a large quantity of polluting particles prevented sunlight from entering and caused the darkening in the middle of the day. The episode became known as “the day that turned into night.” Everything is connected, and the images reflect the relationships and connections between ways of life in different territories. How does our way of life impact the lives of people in distant places? Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow Carlos Papá's philosophy confronts the reductionist logic of modern science, which reduces the whole to parts. In Guarani cosmology, everything is one body, and science and spirituality are inseparable: knowledge is born from listening to and living with the invisible and requires entering the darkness of the unknown. For the Guarani, "The Atlantic Forest is not the Atlantic Forest. 'Atlantic' is the name of the sea that the juruá created. For us, the sea is the sea. Wherever it is, the sea is the sea. For us, there is no such thing as the Pacific and the Atlantic." Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow In 1967, Claudia Andujar went to Congonhas do Campo, Minas Gerais, to photograph the medium Zé Arigó, famous for his spiritual surgeries that intrigued doctors, believers, and curious onlookers. Arigó attracted crowds seeking healing, forming endless lines that mixed faith, despair, and controversy. Through Claudia's lens, the bodies that submitted to the improvised blade reveal extreme vulnerability and strength. From belief. The images expose the almost cinematic atmosphere of a Brazil where mystery, spirituality, and healing intersect in a single gesture. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow Fire is perhaps the most eloquent of the four elements in expressing the ambiguities of the natural world. It creates a tenuous boundary made of embers that separates light from mystery, the sacred from the profane, ritual from devastation, comfort from incineration. Together, the images of Claudia Andujar, Frans Krajcberg, and João Farkas reveal the fascination of the flame that ritualizes and manipulates, and the horror of the fire that consumes and destroys. The images of these artists highlight what science demonstrates: fire is a sacred element that requires reverence and care. Our grandmothers and grandfathers already warned: "whoever plays with fire gets burned." Fabio Scarano - Curator, Museum of Tomorrow “The Krenak children yearn to be ancient. This is because [...] children still have the freedom and autonomy to aspire to worlds, they greatly value the elderly. The elders have the skills of those who have gone through various stages of the experience of living. [...] they teach medicines, art, the fundamentals of everything that is relevant to having a good life.” Ailton Krenak, Ancestral Future, 2022 Yanomami Indigenous Land The demarcation of indigenous lands in Brazil is a process of recognizing the original rights of indigenous peoples over their traditional territories and involves all spheres of public power, according to the 1988 Constitution. This recognition is essential for the physical, cultural, and political continuity of these peoples. However, the process has been systematically dismantled, and violence against indigenous existence spans more than five hundred years of history. In the 1970s, Andujar made a lifelong commitment to the Yanomami people, and her photography became a tool for listening, denouncing, mobilizing, and transgressing. She was responsible for founding the Yanomami Park Creation Commission, which was decisive in the struggle for the demarcation of the Yanomami Indigenous Land, ratified in 1992. Demarcation is understood here not only as a legal right, but as a vital measure for preserving ways of life, systems of knowledge, and the forests that sustain multiple forms of existence. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow Brasília, the initial desert In the 1950s, people spoke of the “desert of the Central Plateau,” after the land where the federal capital would be built was deforested and leveled. It was still a desert of people, plants, and buildings. Cláudia Andujar captured this psychological moment of Brasília's emptiness through two men walking in the vast, horizonless expanse. A resident of Brasília, artist Christus Nóbrega, in 2022, invented a history of the city using artificial intelligence. The choice of location for the city was based on a "bone game" played by a Black matriarch from the region to consult her ancestors about the best place for Brazil's new capital. In part, it is an analogy to the vision of Dom Bosco, the city's patron saint, whose vision of the ideal place inspired Juscelino Kubitschek. Christus created a fictional scene in which urban planner Lúcio Costa uses bones to develop Brasília's urban plan. Paulo Herkenhoff - Curator Vulnerability is a crack in which life, about to cease to be, pulsates with maximum intensity. Thus, it is not a weak point, but a point of tension and balance between the infinite and the finite. The scene exposes bodies that, like ours, are vulnerable. Paradoxically, it tells us as much about empathy (that is, "feeling together") as about the violence of the systems that lead to the end. Rafael Salimena - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow Over four centuries, the art of three audacious women, enchanted by the Amazon, has supported science and the conservation of the forest and its people. Maria Sibylla Merian (German naturalist; 1647–1717) came to Suriname in 1699, accompanied by her daughter, to study the fauna and flora of the region. She produced scientific drawings, such as that of the metamorphosis of butterflies, and worked to recover ancestral knowledge about the use of plants. Emilie Snethlage (German naturalist; 1868-1929) directed the Goeldi Museum between 1914 and 1922 and conducted field research on Amazonian birds. Margaret Mee (English botanical illustrator; 1909–1988), a friend of Burle Marx and contemporary of Cláudia Andujar, settled in the Santa Teresa neighborhood of Rio de Janeiro and drew Amazonian plants in vivo with such artistic precision that they are still used today to support botanical taxonomy: notably the moonflower, which opens at night and has a rather ephemeral life. Cláudia Andujar, with her photography, was the visual anthropologist who revealed to the world the forest peoples and their ways of life. These women translate art and science into wisdom. Fabio Scarano - Curator, Museum of Tomorrow Mercury is still used by gold miners in the Amazon to amalgamate the gold found in the soil The technique involves heating the sediment mixture to a temperature that causes the mercury to evaporate, resulting in the separation of gold. Ingestion of the mercury used in this process can be lethal to people and animals, such as fish. This form of mining has deliberately murdered large numbers of Indigenous people and continues to threaten several communities, in addition to causing birth defects in Indigenous babies. Paulo Herkenhoff - Curator “Illegal mining explosion in the Amazon dumps 100 tons of mercury into the region. Metal found in 2019 and 2020 in the Indigenous lands contaminates water, soil and air. Study found high concentrations in four out of ten children under five years old in the Yanomami regions.” Flávio Ilha, El País, July 20, 2021. Claudia Andujar and George Love, two photographers for Realidade magazine, were married. Together, they produced the photo book Amazônia in 1978 (Praxis publishing house, with graphic design by visual artist Wesley Duke Lee), a pioneering work due to its complex visual and cinematic approach, through 150 images. Amazônia is a visual feast for the eyes, showcasing the natural splendors of the forest. In the political field, the book exposes the seminal relationship between the Yanomami people and their territory. The preface, commissioned from the Amazonian poet Thiago de Mello, was censored by the military dictatorship. Paulo Herkenhoff - Curator Prediction and Recording of History Brazil, 1970s. In a single frame, Andujar suspends time: on one side, the forest-body—an indivisible territory that observes in silence; on the other, the nation-machine that confuses clearing with runway. Military helicopters skim the air with the strident promise of a future that is alien to them. The fence, more than dividing space, sculpts ontologies in discord. During the regime's height, the Amazon was converted into a national security border, subordinated to a developmentalist project that saw the forest as a "void to be occupied." Roads cut through ancient territories, while checkpoints promoted forced contact under the banner of "integration," spreading epidemics, displacement, and violence. In this scenario, the encounter at the edge of the fence stages the confrontation between the Earth that feels, inhabits, and thinks, and the machinery that measures, reduces, and administers—between modes of existence that spring from the forest and a politics that transforms it into a territorial cipher. Claudia Andujar became a witness and ally of the Yanomami. Her relationship transcended the limits of photography and led her to confront the State: she was expelled from the region by FUNAI (National Indian Foundation) during the military dictatorship, after denouncing the violations of indigenous rights and their devastating effects. In response, she founded the Pro-Yanomami Commission in 1978, articulating an international network in defense of territorial demarcation and the rights of indigenous peoples. It is in this in-between space that the announcing power of the image vibrates. Each propeller that cuts through the air reenacts a particular big bang of modern Brazil, swallowing entire cosmogonies under the promise of progress and a new beginning. At the same time, the gesture of recording tears the civilizational veil: the image is not a neutral showcase, but an arena where memories claim narrative. To confront it is to make visible, outside the frame, the colonial machinery that continues to turn. Between fences and propellers, we see modulations of the same world in discord. Camila Oliveira - Content Manager, Museum of Tomorrow The malocas are collective dwellings that make up the indigenous villages. They are built in harmony with nature, attentive to the climatic conditions and local materials of each territory, such as wood, vines, and straw. These particularities make each village unique, reflecting its culture and identity. They reveal a millennial constructive knowledge, transmitted and maintained through generations, as evidenced by Frisch's pioneering photographic records, made around 1867 in the Amazon. The malocas are true centers of life, laden with symbolic meanings, where daily activities and community life take place. One of their most intriguing aspects is their cycle of renewal, which varies according to each ethnic group and teaches us about impermanence and adaptation. For the Yanomami, for example, the burning of the maloca can represent a moment of migration, a strategy to control pests, or a post-death ritual for a leader. In other cases, when the thatched roof becomes too dry, the community itself performs a controlled burning and, in a gesture of continuity, builds another in its place. Julia Meira - Editor, Museum of Tomorrow In Bento Gonçalves, Rio Grande do Sul, around 1967, Claudia Andujar accompanied Dona Odila, a midwife who preserved ancestral practices of natural childbirth, and produced emblematic photographs of a woman giving birth. The series of photographs dialogues with the work *History of Childbirth*, by Maspã Huni Kuin, a master artisan from the Indigenous Land.
Ficha Técnica
Ficha Técnica
Curador Convidado
Paulo Herkenhoff
Artistas
Claudia Andujar
Albert Frisch
Alexandre Rodrigues Ferreira
Almires Martins
Armando de Queiroz
Bené Fonteles
Carlo Zacquini
Carlos Papa
Chico da Silva
Christus Nóbrega
Cildo Meireles
Denilson Baniwa
Edu Simões
Fiona Watson
Flávio de Carvalho
Frans Krajcberg
George Love
Guy Veloso
Guilherme Vaz
Hal Wildson
Hélio Melo
Jair Gabriel
Jan Fjeld
João Farkas
João Trevisan
Johann Feindt
Jorge Bodanzky
José Joaquim Freire
Lew Parrella
Kaio Lakaio
Margareth Mee
Marcelo Rodrigues
Maria Sibylla Merian
Mario Cravo Neto
Mário de Andrade
Martijn Van Nieuwenhuyzen
Maspã Huni Kuin
Maureen Bisilliat
Miguel Rio Branco
Milton Guran
Olney Krüse
Paula Sampaio
Paulo Lobo
Paulo Sampaio
Ricardo Ribenboim
Robert M Davies
Seba Calfuqueo
Sebastião Salgado
Selvagem (Ciclo)
Siri
Siron Franco
Solon Ribeiro
Thiago Martins de Melo
Tirry Pataxó
Valdir Cruz
Victor Moriyama
Walter Firmo
Xadalu Tupã Jekupé
Xauãna Pataxó
Curador do Museu do Amanhã
Fabio Scarano
Gerência Geral de Conteúdo
Camila Oliveira
Equipe Curatorial
Caetana Lara Resende
Julia Deccache
Julia Meira
Rafael Salimena
Lorena Peña
Redação
Fábio Scarano
Paulo Herkenhoff
Rafael Salimena
Camila Oliveira
Julia Meira
Equipe de Produção
Ingrid Vidal
Guilherme Venancio
Nathália Simonetti
Produção Artística
Karla Gama
Projeto Expográfico
Leila Scaf Rodrigues - LSR arquitetura
Projeto de Design
Verbo Arte Design
Fernando Leite
Alice Garambone
Projeto de Iluminação
Julio Katona
Assistente de Expografia
Leticia Nasser
Atendimento ao Público
Wagner Turques Guinesi
Alice Villa Frango
Nilson Da Silva Ramos
Alessandra Batista Da Conceicao Penna
Brenda Pinheiro De Oliveira
Caio Correa De Sousa
Caue De Albuquerque Barroso
Douglas Porto Velho
Fernando Lopes Barbosa
Gabriel Da Silva Ramos
Guilherme Augusto Gouveia
Igor Pereira Alencar
Ismael Freire De Almeida
Jose Americo Da Rocha Filho
Jose Francisco De Souza
Luis Rodrigo Dos Santos
Mariana Macedo Do Nascimento
Matheus Dos Santos Oliveira
Queren Priscila Oliveira De Souza
Rafael De Souza De Almeida
Raisa Medeiros De Oliveira
Shirlei De Oliveira Chagas
Vinicius Marcelo De Oliveira Dos Santos
Vitor Santos Da Silva
Yan Gomes Silveira
Educação Museal
Stephanie Santana
Renan Freira
Bruno Baptista
Bianca Paes Araújo
Fernanda de Castro
Juan Barbosa
Julia Mayer
Juliana Câmara
Marcus Andrade
Maria Luiza Lopes
Nicolle Portela
Nicolle Soalheiro
Thainá Nunes
Vinicius Andrade
Vinicius Valentino
Execução da Estrutura Cenográfica
Detagek
Gráfica
Ginga Design
Impressões Fotográficas
Estúdio 321
Thiago Barros Arte Lab
Estúdio Lupa
Estúdio Lukas Cravo
Molduras
Jacarandá Montagens
Metara
Montagem Fina
Kbedim
Instalações Audiovisuais
Luiz Lima
Ana Barth
Bruno Carreiro
Edson Castro
Vanderson Vieira
Inovatec Soluções Audiovisuais
Instalação Elétrica
Francisco Galdino
Diogo Freire
Marlon Vidal
Silas Miranda
Alexandre Souto
Jefton Elias
Ezequiel Tavares
Jose Petrucio
Camila Fraga
Produção de Montagem
Órbita
Equipe de Museologia
Tatiana Paz
Fabiana Motta
Camilla Brito
Museólogos
Flora Pinheiro
Mayara Motta
Daniele Santos
Débora Koury
Aluane de Sá
Paulo Laia
Seguro das obras
Howden Brasil
Ezze Seguros
Transporte de Obras
Millenium Transportes
Revisão de Texto
Jade Medeiros
Versão em inglês
Jade Medeiros
Versão em espanhol
Larissa Bontempi
Acessibilidade tátil
Paju SA Engenharia
Objetos sensoriais
Luiza Kemp
Acessibilidade de conteúdo
Juliete Viana
Projeto de emergência e elétrica
PI Projetos e Instalações
Agradecimentos
Jornal do Brasil
Instituto Moreira Salles
Andrea Zabrieszach Santos
Marco Lucchesi
Monica BN
Roberta Maiorana
Vânia Leal
Ricardo Metara
Thiago Barros
Victor Correia
Silvia Cintra
Victor Lucas Santos
Galeria Almeida e Dale
Stefania Paiva
Cauê Alves
Yuri Firmeza
Welington Rodrigues
Thiago Martins de Melo
Marília Razuk
Blanche Marie Evin
Guy Veloso
Fundo Z / Museu de Arte do Rio (MAR)
Marco Cirenza
Tirry Pataxó
Galeria Cana
Ronaldo Simões
Carolina Olinto
Hussein Rimi
Marcelo Guarnieri
Museu Judaico do Rio de Janeiro
Eliane Pszczol
Marcelo Campos
Luiz Chrysostomo de Oliveira
Fotoativa
FotoRio
Museu Iberê Camargo
Airton Krenak
Anna Dantes
Selvagem
Movimento Indígena das Escolas Vivas
Paulo Gurgel Valente
Ricardo Cantarino
Carlo Cirenza / Carcara Photo Art
Instituto de Estudos Brasileiros (IEB) / Universidade de São Paulo
FGV Conhecimento
Sidnei Gonzalez
Renata de Paula
UNICAMP
Estúdio Denilson Baniwa
Leo Pedrosa
Roberto Alban
Mauro Saraiva / Tsara
Denilson Baniwa
Edu Simões
Fiona Watson
Flávio de Carvalho
Frans Krajcberg
George Love
Guy Veloso
Guilherme Vaz
Hal Wildson
Hélio Melo
Jair Gabriel
Jan Fjeld
João Farkas
João Trevisan
Johann Feindt
Jorge Bodanzky
José Joaquim Freire
Lew Parrella
Kaio Lakaio
Margareth Mee
Marcelo Rodrigues
Maria Sibylla Merian
Mario Cravo Neto
Mário de Andrade
Martijn Van Nieuwenhuyzen
Maspã Huni Kuin
Maureen Bisilliat
Miguel Rio Branco
Milton Guran
Olney Krüse
Paula Sampaio
Paulo Lobo
Paulo Sampaio
Ricardo Ribenboim
Robert M Davies
Seba Calfuqueo
Sebastião Salgado
Selvagem (Ciclo)
Siri
Siron Franco
Solon Ribeiro
Thiago Martins de Melo
Tirry Pataxó
Valdir Cruz
Victor Moriyama
Walter Firmo
Xadalu Tupã Jekupé
Xauãna Pataxó
Curator of the Museum of Tomorrow
Fabio Scarano
General Content Management
Camila Oliveira
Curatorial Team
Caetana Lara Resende
Julia Deccache
Julia Meira
Rafael Salimena
Lorena Peña
Essay
Fábio Scarano
Paulo Herkenhoff
Rafael Salimena
Camila Oliveira
Julia Meira
Production Team
Ingrid Vidal
Guilherme Venancio
Nathália Simonetti
Artistic Production
Karla Gama
Expographic Project
Leila Scaf Rodrigues - LSR arquitetura
Design Project
Verbo Arte Design
Fernando Leite
Alice Garambone
Lighting Project
Julio Katona
Expography Assistant
Leticia Nasser
Public Service
Wagner Turques Guinesi
Alice Villa Frango
Nilson Da Silva Ramos
Alessandra Batista Da Conceicao Penna
Brenda Pinheiro De Oliveira
Caio Correa De Sousa
Caue De Albuquerque Barroso
Douglas Porto Velho
Fernando Lopes Barbosa
Gabriel Da Silva Ramos
Guilherme Augusto Gouveia
Igor Pereira Alencar
Ismael Freire De Almeida
Jose Americo Da Rocha Filho
Jose Francisco De Souza
Luis Rodrigo Dos Santos
Mariana Macedo Do Nascimento
Matheus Dos Santos Oliveira
Queren Priscila Oliveira De Souza
Rafael De Souza De Almeida
Raisa Medeiros De Oliveira
Shirlei De Oliveira Chagas
Vinicius Marcelo De Oliveira Dos Santos
Vitor Santos Da Silva
Yan Gomes Silveira
Museum Education
Stephanie Santana
Renan Freira
Bruno Baptista
Bianca Paes Araújo
Fernanda de Castro
Juan Barbosa
Julia Mayer
Juliana Câmara
Marcus Andrade
Maria Luiza Lopes
Nicolle Portela
Nicolle Soalheiro
Thainá Nunes
Vinicius Andrade
Vinicius Valentino
Execution of the Scenographic Structure
Detagek
Graphics
Ginga Design
Impressões Fotográficas
Estúdio 321
Thiago Barros Arte Lab
Estúdio Lupa
Estúdio Lukas Cravo
Frames
Jacarandá Montagens
Metara
Fine Assembly
Kbedim
Audiovisual Installations
Luiz Lima
Ana Barth
Bruno Carreiro
Edson Castro
Vanderson Vieira
Inovatec Soluções Audiovisuais
Electrical Installation
Francisco Galdino
Diogo Freire
Marlon Vidal
Silas Miranda
Alexandre Souto
Jefton Elias
Ezequiel Tavares
Jose Petrucio
Camila Fraga
Assembly Production
Órbita
Museology Team
Tatiana Paz
Fabiana Motta
Camilla Brito
Museologists
Flora Pinheiro
Mayara Motta
Daniele Santos
Débora Koury
Aluane de Sá
Paulo Laia
Construction insurance
Howden Brasil
Ezze Seguros
Transport of Works
Millenium Transportes
Text Review
Jade Medeiros
English version
Jade Medeiros
Spanish version
Larissa Bontempi
Tactile accessibility
Paju SA Engenharia
Sensory objects
Luiza Kemp
Content accessibility
Juliete Viana
Emergency and electrical project
PI Projetos e Instalações
Thanks
Jornal do Brasil
Instituto Moreira Salles
Andrea Zabrieszach Santos
Marco Lucchesi
Monica BN
Roberta Maiorana
Vânia Leal
Ricardo Metara
Thiago Barros
Victor Correia
Silvia Cintra
Victor Lucas Santos
Galeria Almeida e Dale
Stefania Paiva
Cauê Alves
Yuri Firmeza
Welington Rodrigues
Thiago Martins de Melo
Marília Razuk
Blanche Marie Evin
Guy Veloso
Fundo Z / Museu de Arte do Rio (MAR)
Marco Cirenza
Tirry Pataxó
Galeria Cana
Ronaldo Simões
Carolina Olinto
Hussein Rimi
Marcelo Guarnieri
Museu Judaico do Rio de Janeiro
Eliane Pszczol
Marcelo Campos
Luiz Chrysostomo de Oliveira
Fotoativa
FotoRio
Museu Iberê Camargo
Airton Krenak
Anna Dantes
Selvagem
Movimento Indígena das Escolas Vivas
Paulo Gurgel Valente
Ricardo Cantarino
Carlo Cirenza / Carcara Photo Art
Instituto de Estudos Brasileiros (IEB) / Universidade de São Paulo
FGV Conhecimento
Sidnei Gonzalez
Renata de Paula
UNICAMP
Estúdio Denilson Baniwa
Leo Pedrosa
Roberto Alban
Mauro Saraiva / Tsara
Assets
Imagem25
Video
Link externo
https://museudoamanha.org.br/exposicoes/1241/claudia-andujar-e-seu-universo Exposição Claudia Andujar
https://museudoamanha.org.br/exposicoes/ Exposições
https://museudoamanha.org.br/exposicoes/ Exposições
Relações
Projeto relacionado
Taxonomia
É parte de
Item do acervo