Paraiso

Featuring Monty Kaplan Words by Nastasia Khmelnitski

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Federico ‘Monty’ Kaplan is an Argentinian photographer whose dedication is to research, to highly conceptual projects that come to examine realities from distinct angles not yet explored. Monty raises questions, asking the viewer to take an active part in the interpretation of the project. The series, Paraiso, opens with a disturbing, powerful, black and white image of fire absorbing the forest. Then, the viewer encounters images of landscape in a normal state post the disaster, quiet, raising the feeling of calmness as if nothing had happened.

We encounter portraits of local men, which are presented through conceptual diptychs juxtaposing life and death, construction and destruction suggested as a mere possibility with the decision always being in the hands of men. Monty, speaks about Paraiso and explains, “I think there's a real danger in the power that an image of a disaster like that can elicit in the viewer. It can become quite detrimental because it's almost like a show. There's a strange morbid curiosity that we all share with things like this. It's like we can't look away from a train wreck.”

In this interview with Monty Kaplan, we premiere his new series Paraiso (or Paradise). This is a documentary project, a new genre Monty decides to immerse into, building a story based on the destructive, massive wildfires that took place in Corrientes, Argentina, several months ago. For Monty, this is a story of paradise lost, the story of neglect of nature by human beings, and a plea for a shift in perception. We discuss the initiation of the project, the concept and evolution of the story, and the decision to work on a documentary piece. We speak with Monty about the probability art and photography have on becoming agents for change, and we close this dialogue by speaking about the portraits taken in the process.

‘Like countless others from my country, I watched at a distance, in horror, how this tragedy was unfolding through news and social media and felt utterly powerless. Then something instantly clicked inside me, and I realized this was the opportunity I was looking for.’

Paraiso

The name of the series, Paraiso (or Paradise), comes to allude to and remind us of the biblical concept of paradise and criticize the distrustful and reckless human behavior today. What was the moment or emotion that led to work on the project?

I had recently finished work on a commission that had a strong social and environmental theme, and this new documentary-style approach to photography really got to me. I felt imbued with new energy. So I was already looking for another project with a similar subject matter to tackle. Like countless others from my country, I watched at a distance, in horror, how this tragedy was unfolding through news and social media and felt utterly powerless. Then something instantly clicked inside me, and I realized this was the opportunity I was looking for. A few days later, I bought a plane ticket and started to frantically gather information and contacts from around the area and just went for it. It all happened quite fast, really, and it was a huge gamble for me. I was driven by a real motivation to understand why this had happened.

‘For me, it was crucial to travel there when the fire had died down when the story had, in a way, cooled down. I wasn't hunting for an exclusive, quite the contrary; I think there's a real danger in the power that an image of a disaster like that can elicit in the viewer.’

Photography as an Agent

The background has to do with the wildfires in Corrientes, Argentina, at the end of last year and the beginning of 2022, with over a thousand fires burning and destroying wildlife and most of the Iberá National Park. In what way do you think photography moves to action or change? Is a result required with an art project that raises awareness of social and ecological issues?  

This is a very complicated point and a bit of a sensitive topic because I'm unsure of photography's part in change. While there were a lot of photographers who traveled to the area when this happened to help and provide as much valuable information as possible, I think there were many others that exploited this disaster for their personal agenda, hunting for beautiful, exciting pictures of the burning fire. 

For me, it was crucial to travel there when the fire had died down when the story had, in a way, cooled down. I wasn't hunting for an exclusive, quite the contrary; I think there's a real danger in the power that an image of a disaster like that can elicit in the viewer. It can become quite detrimental because it's almost like a show. There's a strange morbid curiosity that we all share with things like this. It's like we can't look away from a train wreck. 

In my case, I wanted to delve deep into the where/why and the how — only alluding to the actual event. In the end, I wanted to tell the story that never ends, the one about the eternal neglect of our lands. It's not about what happened; it's about why it will keep on happening. If these types of projects can create a difference or a call to action, I don't know. I certainly hope so.

‘One thing I had decided early on and was an idea that survived the editing and sequencing was to start with the actual fire. I wanted to get that first shot out of the way, start with a bang in a manner of speaking, and then slow the pace and take the viewer's attention to a different place.’

The Presentation

You present the project with several diptychs, which come to stress the conflict and the opposites of the whole and destroyed, the human and nature, and eventually life and death. Could you walk us through how you construct a narrative and decide on building your story?  

That's a process that is still ongoing, and I imagine it will still be so for a while. I produced a massive amount of material while I was there, and to be honest, I was a bit overwhelmed by the time I finished developing, scanning, and printing since I had more than 300 photos to look through.

What happened was that in the preproduction process of research, I had constructed an idea in my head of what I wanted to tell and how, but then, of course, I got there, and the experience of the actual reality and the circumstances changed everything. At that point, I just began shooting through instinct, not really knowing if I was taking the images that would work or make sense afterward. One thing I had decided early on and was an idea that survived the editing and sequencing was to start with the actual fire. I wanted to get that first shot out of the way, start with a bang in a manner of speaking, and then slow the pace and take the viewer's attention to a different place.

There are a lot of ways to tell this story, as with any story, really, and I decided to go with the more poetic and conceptual path. There's material, a lot of it, that has a more straightforward documentary quality, more of a matter-of-fact roughness. Those were the photos that I slowly turned away from because they made everything too clear, too factual. It's not that I'm trying to be deliberately cryptic or play coy. But photography works best when questions are raised and not answered.

‘All of the portraits in the project are from people of the town of San Miguel. From the first moment that I decided to shoot this project, I knew that I wanted to see the faces of the actual people who witnessed, suffered, and in some cases, helped cause the fires.’

The Human

I feel that the main focus of this project is the human, the one who holds power over what can happen and who is a change agent. There is a question in the project about the place of religion in our lives today. However, the change is with people, with ordinary people, who perceive themselves as powerless, but, as suggested by the project — are not. People have the power to build, create, cultivate the land, and even kill livestock or destroy nature. Who are those people in the project? Why was it important for you to add those images? 

All of the portraits in the project are from people of the town of San Miguel. From the first moment that I decided to shoot this project, I knew that I wanted to see the faces of the actual people who witnessed, suffered, and in some cases, helped cause the fires. It wasn't about looking for someone to blame or someone to be made into a victim. I wanted those portraits to speak for themselves, to let them evoke whatever response they may have in the viewer, letting go of any judgment or preconception and simply seeing in them another human being. I think of portraits as an empathic exercise for both who shoots them and who views them.

‘I'm very curious about human nature, about our ways of experiencing and interacting with the world and with each other. We're just so erratic. There are, in all of us, as many positive attributes as there are iniquities.’

Upcoming Projects

Which questions do you feel are still unanswered that you want to address with your next projects? 

I'm not sure what the future holds for me. I know it will be another project that will have this mix of documentary and conceptual. I've had the idea for a long time of adapting Leila Guerriero's book, Los Suicidas del Fin del Mundo, into a photo series, which is a chronicle of an epidemic of suicides that happened in the small town of Las Heras in South Argentina. 

I'm very curious about human nature, about our ways of experiencing and interacting with the world and with each other. We're just so erratic. There are, in all of us, as many positive attributes as there are iniquities. There's a quote by philosopher John Stuart Mill that says, "Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing.” No one is inherently bad or good. We all have the capacity for both. And I think it's a great mystery what drives our actions. I intend to keep investigating this mystery.