SHADOW LINE
At first we were moving in the same territory, nowhere defined by the "international route". Moving the center of Tijuana to a movie in Chula Vista did not at cross practice some tangible barrier. It was like moving in a certain area of \u200b\u200beveryday life that had a framework of binational space, without curtains in the middle. These were the years of infancy and early post-war (1946-1952). Still feel some fallout from the recent world war air-raid blackouts, San Diego, and the flow from one country to another was much lower than now. The city walked in the ninety thousand inhabitants, though no longer crossed, as in the first decades of the century, White Gate when Americans thirsty came in droves to lie beyond the drink that I was forbidden to President Roosevelt with the prohibition. Around the years, and ironically since it came into operation on "free trade", the wall metal and electronics has been widening and lengthening the project not as a defensive architecture does not become architecture, but as result of a crude constructivism, pragmatic and "strategic." So perhaps the Catalan poet Rubén Bonet occurred to him that "everything is an installation Tijuana, like a plastic proposal, referring to the rusty fence landing strips blade-waste military-which is the deterrent fence. The disability is severe: no one comes here and nobody should pass by the natural barrier impassable desert sun, thirst, starvation and dehydration. Humans can not pass. What can go-and-misses are cocaine, pot and heroin.
Photographers, better than anyone, have captured the drama of immigration that has been exacerbated not only here in the northwest corner of Mexico, but in many other parts of the world. Quite a few photographers such as Sebastião Salgado, Graciela Iturbide, Lourdes Grobet, Cordoba and Vladimir Roberto Tellez, their images are frozen in the faces of this tragedy, but in our line of fire Baja California who has spent more thoroughly with 35 mm camera-fast, instant, no frames "study" - was Elsa Medina.
Over the past two years, the Mexican photographer has been taking his pulse to the desperate social nest, night, midday, at dawn, at dawn, when the wolf of this century when it senses a threat or discover signs of impending danger. His is the picture of the gaps: the frontier cracked by the hope that slips and falls apart in the dust far from the border patrol. This crack or linear open space left between the two national bodies evokes-in-depth picture of the monumental Great Wall of China military inspired or territory of Laconia in which stood the ancient Greek Sparta and the architect Richard Ingersoll has derived the term "field laconic" to refer to the sprawling city full of frayed areas, irregularly built without space events, private communication architecture. And there seems to be something else this "field laconic" appearing in the desolation undocumented collected by the lens of Elsa Medina, a short field, a few elements such as the outskirts of Tijuana patched or near San Ysidro, the Nest of the Eagles and the barrel La Cabra. But if Sparta did not need walls and could be extended along its laconic gaps was because, according to Thucydides, "his soldiers were their walls" in the same way now, on the border mexicanoestadunidense, the army of Border Patrol makes offensive and defensive wall with the vulnerability of the sheet beneath which no unbridgeable gaps Nikon has introduced Elsa Medina.
What we see in your photos? We see some scattered patrols yonder in the valley of the Goat. We see the black silhouettes of a dozen agents blond brackets and lanterns protruding his belt, against the setting sun, just at the instant of green beam cancels the vastness of the Pacific. We see a man alone on the beaches of Tijuana, staring toward the north of the rusty fence that cuts through the waves offshore. We see a child put in his poncho, a teenager without a country, an elderly without support. We see a helicopter with its searchlights nailing a peasant from Nayarit while, as sprayed spider, hiding his face with a cap of Yanque. We see a convoy of government trucks and four wheel drive motor graders and tractors demarcating the "no man's land", this expression of qualifying military zone between the trench and another and no one can pass without the risk of being shot by a sniper excited by the border patrol. We see a lot of shoes and boots used, signs of the walk and emigration, that someone sold on the corner of a street. We see a guy who puts more than three hundred white crosses in the painting of a pair of black figures, numbers of migrants killed at the border. We see a group of young people who make their ranch apart under a tree while waiting, waiting, waiting, in the canyon Zapata. We see a group of undocumented workers waiting to be hired as casuals in the Broadway and Pico in Los Angeles. We see a landmark in the Eagles Nest in the boundary portion, established by force of arms in 1848. We see the double fence perimeter security, barbed wire and in the trenches, seismic sensors to track walkers surreptitious, long distance infrared telescopes, video cameras, night detectación instruments. We see a war zone. We see a cessation of all governments, we see indifference, see his smile grim and stupid, we see a conspiracy against the right to work.
However, the look of Elsa Medina is not the only one on the border is nomadic or undocumented are the only people who are struggling to survive in the yard of the border sedentary.
As Will and Representation, the border is in every dictionary of clichés: glass border, the border as a wound, scar, perimeter deterrent, cutting, historical machete, the gap of the weeping rock, wall, the border, no man's land, the collision, the boundary, the curtain the fence adjacent blood, the literature of threshold, when the wolf at the moment of dawn when you cross the traffic underground, the language border, hope, failure, painted stripe, the invisible boundary, the border of snakes, ether tunnel which makes the journey to nowhere, dementia is triggered border between night and dawn, between reality and desire, hunger and engorgement, between health and disease, between the murderer and victim, between youth and maturity (shadow line), between life and death, the country border between something and nothing, between grief and nothing, red border.
has vanished the very notion of boundary or transformed by war and political dislocations of Eastern Europe. Historians to rethink their new conceptualization. No legal, since no state without borders. But cultural fusion of languages, the mixture of races, the invasion of a speech the other, the fade-in film-mounting sense of public attitudes. While sociologists are careful to speculation border country around a log-national border between the developed and the stalled, between English and English, between production and consumption of goods, services and drugs, including export and import between banking uncontrolled and denationalization of money, "the novelists of the literature of the threshold or the interstices traffic in the inexhaustible vein of the red border, the serial murders or" satanic "that swallows the Hollywood aesthetic matrix in endless orgy violence as fun as lucrative. It assimilates the psychiatric sense of the "border states"-an instance pre-schizophrenic-on experience everyday life on the frontier, ie to the madness and the degradation of civil coexistence.
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