Ana Noble or the invisible correspondence
Text by Mateo Pizarro
Images by Ana Noble
In the heart of the Colombian Amazon, lies a river where different indigenous tribes live. The river is the Pirá Paraná and at least seven different languages are spoken in the area. Despite them being so isolated and having such a strong culture, the later is threated by the contact with Western culture. I, as the Westerner I am, felt sorry for the irrecoverable loss of a shamanic way of life I do not know at all. But what I understood from what they told me is that, even if the last sage of the last tribe died, their knowledge would remain inscribed in their rainforest and their river, because they hadn’t made it up, it was given to them as was their territory.
It’s as if on top of the visible world existed a symbolic world that harbors that knowledge. After the tragedy, only one person would be needed, one which was capable of perceiving or sensing that world and a certain taste for experimentation.1
Some of Ana Noble’s pieces seem to want to diagram that world I speak of, one that exists superimposed to ours, the world of the invisible that hides the forces that move our own reality. It refers to the same search that Kepler attempted in the 18th century, when he described the orbits of the celestial bodies in a score, but clearly, it is more ancient than that. Kepler was preceded by alchemists, mathematics and witches that also searched for the invisible correspondence between shapes and reality. It is, in my opinion, one of our oldest practices. It must have sprung when science, art and magic were not different. Clearly time has separated them, and what’s surprising about Ana’s task is that she brings them together again.
But Ana is clearly a witch of her time: oftentimes a black hen and goat’s blood aren’t indispensable; only a little After Effects is enough to experiment.