A Suitcase of History
It is remarkable how much history a single suitcase can expose to the world. In the International Center of Photography’s exhibit, “The Mexican Suitcase,” one is able to witness an extremely organized and comprehensive overview of the Spanish Civil War. Upon entering the museum, I was immediately greeted with an enlarged image of the suitcase itself, carefully painted and spanning an entire wall. As I stepped further in, the first photograph I recall seeing was not one of the warfront, but rather one of Taro and Capa, two of the photographers whose works were highlighted in the exhibit. When I read the caption, I was surprised to learn that there was a romance involved between the two, an interesting fact that introduced their series of photographs. It appeared that the creators of the exhibit sought to provide a very complete view of the suitcase’s story, giving information not only on the context of the photographs, but the photographers themselves. There was even a map that displayed where the three photographers took photos from 1936-1939.
Aside from the background information on the photographers, the photographs, neatly lined across the walls, certainly captured my imagination and sparked my interest and curiosity on this historical event, which I knew nearly nothing about. As I observed some of Capa’s photographs, I realized that he was not only able to capture images of the soldiers and their activities, but also their environment. In particular, I noticed the barren and desert-like appearances of certain warfronts, especially of the Aragón Front. This dry and lifeless background seemed to mirror the theme of war and death, and made me wonder just how sad and empty the dismal atmosphere must have made the soldiers. Similarly, some of Chim’s photographs got me thinking about the war from a different angle. In a few of them, there were images of what appeared to be a religious funeral service for fallen soldiers. After looking closely at these photographs, I began pondering on the various aspects of the war culture: how the dead of both comrades and enemies were treated, how important mourning rituals were, etc.
At the same time, however, it was not always easy to study the fine details of each image, as some of them were relatively small. While there were plastic magnifying rectangles available for use, a seemingly clever and useful tool, they did very little to enhance the photograph viewing experience. Moreover, there was also a projected video documentary on one of the walls. Unfortunately, I felt as if I were viewing a movie on mute. While it seems reasonable that the audio accompanying the video was not put on a high volume, it was difficult to follow and understand what was being depicted. Although I do recognize that the additional media was a creative touch to the exhibit, it failed to supplement the information already provided by the photographs and their captions.
On the other hand, “The Mexican Suitcase” also showcased original artifacts that strengthened the historical richness of the exhibit. For instance, there were some original documents, such as government letters from Paris and magazines from the 1930s. They were in various languages, including Spanish, French, and what appeared to be either be Hebrew or Yiddish. Although I did not understand what any of these papers meant, just the idea that they came from across the world and from an entirely different time period fascinated me. However, the most notable artifacts were certainly the actual three boxes that comprised the Mexican suitcase. Suddenly, the gridded boxes filled with rolled film became real, allowing me to really absorb the story of the suitcase.
Although this exhibit was small, it was overflowing with historical information. Like the suitcase itself, “The Mexican Suitcase” had much to offer, including countless photographs, old documents, and a deeper insight on the Spanish Civil War. While I did not anticipate witnessing such an eye-opening exhibit, I was pleasantly surprised by my visit to ICP.