© Paccarik Orue from the series 'El Muqui'

What prompted you to tackle and investigate the communities living in the mining regions of Peru and the impacts of its industries?

Paccarik Orue (PO): Having lived in the United States as a Peruvian undocumented immigrant for 13 years, unable to go back, made me realize I needed to reconnect with my Peruvian roots and heritage. Because of this I decided that my next project would be about Peru. The environment is also a very important subject to me, so when I had the chance to start working on it right after graduating from art school, I went on a research trip to La Oroya and Cerro de Pasco in 2012. In Cerro de Pasco not only did I learn that the environmental problems are worse than what we are told, but I also saw resilience and pride in the community -things that I strongly identify with because of my experience as an immigrant. Documenting the negative impact that the mining industry has on Cerro de Pasco is important to me, but it is also as important to portray the residents’ pride and resilience in a city that’s threatened to exist today due to the environmental disaster created by the mining industry.

© Paccarik Orue from the series 'El Muqui'

What difficulties have you encountered in getting people's trust? Have you ever felt that this type of photographic work could somehow empower people?

PO: Due to Cerro de Pasco’s geographical location at 4380 meters above sea level, and its contamination problems, the city has a reputation of being a tough place to live in. Locals call it “tierra de machos y no de muchos”, meaning that the locals are tough people and not many people dare to live in that land. Despite the fact that in Peru, Cerro de Pasco is a place to be avoided, when locals interact with others, they are willing to share their culture and talk about their land’s environmental problems. I never encountered any difficulties in getting people’s trust because when I am there I try to “blend in” and participate in the community first, and making photographs comes second, whenever I see something that speaks to me or makes a special connection with someone. To me, a camera is a tool that helps people connect with each other. Over time, I have developed friendships which in turn have allowed me to live experiences and see things that otherwise would have never happened. The only issues I had there were whenever I photographed the mine or the toxic waste from the mine’s operations. The mining company does not like cameras and it is quick to send security officers to stop you, harass you and threaten you to delete photos from your camera. But I shoot films and I am not easily intimidated by their tactics.
I do believe that this type of photographic work empowers people, especially the younger generations that are not used to seeing themselves or their land portrayed with such pride despite all their struggles. In fact, I have posted photographs of this show on my Instagram stories and one of the responses that filled me with joy came from a young girl from Cerro de Pasco who said: “how nice it is to dream big and think that one day I would be able to express this much with my photographs...the exhibition looks very beautiful and Cerro de Pasco is present”.

© Paccarik Orue from the series 'El Muqui'

© Paccarik Orue from the series 'El Muqui'

© Paccarik Orue from the series 'El Muqui'

Paccarik, as a Peruvian, what type of story do you wish to tell through this work? What were your choices and the criteria in approaching the subject matter and editing it?

PO: As a Peruvian photographer documenting Cerro de Pasco, I want to tell a story as an equal, fairly, with my feet on the ground, metaphorically and literally speaking. No drones, no zoom lenses, no weird angles, no fast cameras -I want to take my time and photograph slowly, at a pace that characterizes the city and its inhabitants. I want the world to know about the environmental injustice and the struggles of this community without exploiting misery and suffering, so I refrain from photographing the cracked walls and collapsed ceilings in people’s homes... I avoid portraying the weak and sick who are clearly suffering from high levels of heavy metals in their bloodstream. I believe that documenting their joy and dignity is a better reflection of who they are, so when I am editing my work I do it through the eyes of someone who admires their strength and their pride because they clearly love their land and culture despite the environmental catastrophe that they have to deal with. I am not a photojournalist. I am an artist longing to reconnect with my country and I use the camera as a tool to do just that while telling a story that is important to me.

© Paccarik Orue from the series 'El Muqui' 

The election of the new president of Peru gave hope for a change. Do you feel there's more consciousness-raising around the condition of these communities?

PO: Not at all. If there was any hope at the beginning of Castillo’s presidency, it has faded away very quickly. The real power to raise consciousness about the negative impact that the mining industry has on communities located in Peru’s mining corridor relies on the Peruvian mainstream media, which unfortunately frames these social issues in a negative light, siding with the corporations and making it seem like these communities are standing on the way of progress and the welfare of the country.

"El Muqui" is the center of many celebrations and traditions in Cerro de Pasco. The city is well known for its pollution. However, your project tries to restore dignity to these people and place importance on their memory, so that it is not devastated by the mining economy. Sometimes in observing these situations you can feel a sense of helplessness. As if in the end there is little to do. In your photographs, however, there is like a thread of hope, there is a humanity, especially depicted in children, which seems to resist any sense of inevitability.

PO: I have named my project “El Muqui” because he is a folkloric character from the Andean mines who protects and rewards good miners but punishes the bad ones who don’t respect his territories and just want to struck gold and quickly become rich. He can be awful to those with a bad heart, but he is playful with children when he comes out of the mine and gifts them with colorful mineral rocks. He is the common element that helps me tie both angles of the narrative together, the environmental and the cultural one, as he represents both.
When the mining economy threatens to swallow Cerro de Pasco- more than it already has- into a hole in the ground, it not only damages the land and its inhabitants, but in the process, it also threatens to erase its culture. So, when I am photographing kids over there I keep that in mind and I try to remember my own childhood in Peru, growing up oblivious to my circumstances and just being a happy child. There is hope in the new generations, and I believe that this must be present while developing the story. My desire to create a photographic record of the contemporary memory of the city and its people wouldn’t be complete without that.

© Paccarik Orue from the series 'El Muqui'

© Paccarik Orue from the series 'El Muqui'

What have you learned from "El Muqui" and how has this affected your identity both as a visual maker and Peruvian?

Working on “El Muqui” has been a challenge in terms of the complexity of the story. When I started editing the book, which is in progress right now, I realized that I needed to touch on the history of Cerro de Pasco to better understand its problems and how things got to this point. I didn’t want to ignore the displacement that is happening due to the imminent expansion of the mine. The company has bought most of the land around the open pit, including the homes of families who lived closest to the mine. Once they buy a house (undervalued, of course, and many times against the families’ will to sell) the windows and doors are sealed shut with bricks and boards and a sign that reads “Propiedad Privada” (Private Property) is painted on them, together with the company’s name and logo -there are hundreds of them that are now ruined, and it looks like a war zone. I did not want the inhabitants' memories to disappear, so I started compiling and collecting historical images such as stereoview cards, hand-painted postcards, glass slides, maps, ephemera, samples of mineral rocks from the mine, contaminated soil from the mountains of mining waste, toys left behind in the area where there used to be a lake, etc. I also wanted to touch on the big problem that the city has with stray dogs. There are so many of them suffering from contamination and malnutrition that is truly heartbreaking to witness. By putting all these different images that cover different angles of the story, I have learned to be a better editor of my own work.

© Paccarik Orue from the series 'El Muqui'

© Paccarik Orue from the series 'El Muqui'

© Paccarik Orue from the series 'El Muqui'

Your work has been recently exhibited in Italy at the Lab27 along with that of Alessandro Cinque and Thomas Locke Hobbs, who also investigated the region. How meaningful is the comparison and dialogue with other photographers? 

I am grateful to Urbanautica, Lab27 and Steve Bisson for organizing this show about such an important issue, that is sadly overlooked in Peru and Latin America in general. It is great to see the work of my colleagues that are participating in the exhibition and in the online talks, because similar subject matters are covered in such different ways. It is very interesting, as an artist and as a member of the audience, to have a display of images taken by artists with different approaches seen through different eyes. Not only does it help people to understand it better and in more depth, but at the same time, it makes a more wholesome experience, and it also helps us artists, to broaden our perspectives as image makers. 

© Installation view at Lab27, Treviso, 2022

© Installation viewEl Muqui'  at Lab27, Treviso, 2022

© Installation view 'El Muqui' at Lab27, Treviso, 2022

Paccarik Orue (website)