The power of art to bring attention to critical global issues is on full display with Cecilia Vicuña's upcoming exhibition, "Minga for the Sea." This major commission, set to open in Oslo in 2026, showcases Vicuña's unique blend of artistic expression, ancestral traditions, and environmental activism.
What makes this exhibition particularly fascinating is its focus on the interconnectedness of distant geographies and the shared struggles of Indigenous communities against resource extraction and pollution. By highlighting the deep relations between landscapes and histories, Vicuña invites us to reconsider our understanding of the world and our place within it.
At the heart of the exhibition are two large quipus, an ancient communication system from the Andes. These quipus, constructed from local wool, symbolize water and the interdependence of ecosystems. By using this disrupted tradition, Vicuña not only reanimates an ancestral technology but also creates a powerful visual representation of planetary systems and the interconnectedness of all life.
One quipu represents the Southern Hemisphere and Chile, while the other symbolizes the Northern Hemisphere and Sápmi. Both installations are unique, reflecting the distinct relationships to landscape and cosmology of these regions. Yet, they also reveal resonances, such as ocean currents and ecological cycles, that transcend borders. This interplay between difference and similarity is a key theme throughout the exhibition.
The "letters" embedded in the quipus, contributed by Indigenous and environmental defenders, form a polyphonic archive of resistance. These contributions, which include poems, drawings, and crafted objects, showcase the diversity of Indigenous knowledge and the strength of cultural resistance. By bringing these voices together, Vicuña creates a collective medium that connects struggles across geographies, emphasizing the shared defense of the sea and the importance of reciprocity and stewardship.
The exhibition also addresses the global systems of extraction that intimately entangle these regions. It highlights how materials, capital, and environmental consequences circulate between hemispheres, linking fjords and coastlines. This perspective challenges us to consider the impact of our actions on distant landscapes and the importance of Indigenous cosmologies that prioritize reciprocity and relationality.
The title, "Minga," derived from Quechua, emphasizes the collective labor undertaken for the common good. This principle is central to the exhibition's methodology, which gathers voices and materials through collaboration and solidarity. By presenting Indigenous cosmologies as interconnected ways of knowing, Vicuña challenges current paradigms and affirms the living bonds between sea, land, and community.
In my opinion, "Minga for the Sea" is a powerful reminder of the finite nature of our planet's elements and the urgent need for collective action to protect them. It invites us to listen, learn, and attend lovingly to the sea, to one another, and to the ancestral knowledges that persist against erasure. This exhibition is a must-see for anyone interested in art, environmentalism, and the power of cultural resistance.
