Recycling in Times of Crisis: The Case of Oligatega Numeric (Argentina)

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Clara Garavelli
University of Leicester (UK)
 


The crisis of 2001 in Argentina was characterized by a popular uprising in the streets that generated a series of subaltern responses at social and political levels, which had a large impact on the way artistic productions were created. The temporary foundation of alternative modes of organization, such as public assemblies, local cooperatives and seized factories, had its counterpart in the artistic field in the emergence of colectivos (‘collectives’). Their collaborative and horizontal way of working soon became widespread cultural practice. While for many artists it was a political or ideological stance, for others, who were struggling to survive, it was a practical solution. The lack of economic resources forced them to recur not only to the power of a group of individuals, but also to recycling rubbish in order to be able to produce. Although various collectives’ works have received considerable academic attention in the past decade, how they made aesthetic virtue out of economic necessity is still far from being fully analyzed and comprehended. Moreover, only a few collectives have received proper coverage to date, while many others have fallen into oblivion. Thus, this paper aims to explore how this economic resource of cooperative work and wasted materials turned into a unique aesthetic in the case of the collective Oligatega Numeric and, in doing so, challenged other more established aesthetics such as ‘trash’ and ‘cyberpunk’.



The crisis of 2001 in Argentina was characterized by a popular uprising in the streets that generated a series of subaltern responses at social and political levels, which had a large impact on the way artistic productions were created. The temporary foundation of alternative modes of organization, such as public assemblies, local cooperatives and seized factories, had its counterpart in the artistic field in the emergence of colectivos (‘collectives’). Their collaborative and horizontal way of working soon became widespread cultural practice. While for many artists it was a political or ideological stance, for others, who were struggling to survive, it was a practical solution. The lack of economic resources forced them to recur not only to the power of a group of individuals, but also to recycling rubbish in order to be able to produce. Although various collectives’ works have received considerable academic attention in the past decade, how they made aesthetic virtue out of economic necessity is still far from being fully analyzed and comprehended. Moreover, only a few collectives have received proper coverage to date, while many others have fallen into oblivion. Thus, this paper aims to explore how this economic resource of cooperative work and wasted materials turned into a unique aesthetic in the case of the collective Oligatega Numeric and, in doing so, challenged other more established aesthetics such as ‘trash’ and ‘cyberpunk’.


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Picture 02

Pictures 01 and 02.  “Toponave”, CCEBA Centro Cultural De España en Bs. As., junto a “Provisorio” y “Permanente”, 2008. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

Between trash, cyberpunk and a dark place…
The Oligatega Numeric’s members met while they were studying visual arts at the art school Prilidiano Pueyrredón in Buenos Aires. Constituted mainly by Alfio Demestre, Maximiliano Bellmann, Mateo Amaral, Mariano Giraud and Leandro Tartaglia, the group initially got together out of both creative affinity and economic necessity.1 Since 1999, they have been working on projects in a multiplicity of formats and languages, such as sculptures, texts, drawings, music, performances, installations and videos. Although they initially rejected any kind of definition or classification, either of the group or of its works, they declared that it is precisely in this encounter of diverse mediums where the specificity of their productions resides. Accordingly, in recent years they have begun to speak of an ‘inter-multi-mediality’ that characterizes their art works, which traverses the borders between genres, media, disciplines and artistic expressions.2



Picture 03. Tríptico de la Beca Kuitca, CETC Centro de experimentación Teatro Colón, “El enorme”, performance musical, 2004. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

During their most productive period, at the time of the 2001 crisis, they shared the same working space in order to reduce costs and turned to a division of labor to make the most out of each member’s skills.3 Considering that they had serious shortages of materials, their technological experimentations were necessarily based on mainly discarded devices that had lost their functional viability when they were replaced by more advanced technology. These means granted their productions a retro-futuristic style that followed an aesthetic line similar to the works done by various members of the famous Fluxus movement. Nonetheless, instead of appropriating the popular artifacts of the time, as occurred in the Sixties with the television, Oligatega’s artists chose to explore objects that were starting to lose their appeal, particularly for the middle-upper classes, who had the possibility to access a technological upgrade.


Picture 04. Perfomance en la Universidad Di Tella, “El enorme Fantasmas”, 2008. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

In this sense, many of Oligatega’s works are closely related to the trash aesthetic, which had great influence on the local cultural field during the nineties and in the period right after the events of December 2001. Speaking on this aesthetic, the Argentine art historian, Inés Katzenstein, said that:

La palabra trash […] en el arte se refiere usualmente a toda obra hecha de partes sueltas, a acoplamientos de imágenes o conexiones entre cosas que, juntas, generan una imagen sucia o tóxica, a lo barato, a lo aberrante, a los escalones más bajos de la cultura popular, a lo deliberadamente fragmentario, a lo no terminado. El trash no tiene que ver con la pobreza enaltecida por el talento transformador del artista sino con lo que exhibe descaradamente su impureza, con lo que en su periplo de vida perdió su nobleza de origen y se muestra envilecido de alguna u otra manera. (2010 34)4

[The word trash (…) in art usually refers to any work made out of loose parts, to gatherings of images or connections between things that, together, generate a dirty or toxic image. It also refers to the cheap, the aberrant, the lowest steps of popular culture, to the deliberately fragmented, to the unfinished. Trash has nothing to do with the exalted poverty attained through the talent of a gifted artist, but rather has to do with the shameless exhibition of impurity, with that which has lost its original quality on its life’s journey and appears degraded in one way or another. (2010 34; my translation)

Oligatega Numeric’s art works were indeed constructed with pieces of multiple ruled out forms, which portray the group’s fragmented discourse. However, instead of showing a degradation or impurity of the components, the combination of these elements highlights how the original characteristics of the reused objects are slowly disappearing in a positive way. The trash would be located then in the usage of materials that have been used and thrown away, yet which do not praise a decadent aspect but the multiple aesthetic possibilities of its recycling. Hence, the trash would only comprise one part of the group’s production that poeticizes the impossibility of affording the necessary supplies to construct their sceneries and monsters –two of their most common creations (see Pictures 01, 02, 03 AND 04)– although its emphasis does not fall on what those objects were, but on the new worlds generated by their combination.

With reference to the particularities of this combination, it should be noted that not all the collectives had the same objectives or methodologies. The Argentine scholar Andrea Giunta, who mapped out the different groups’ dynamics in the post-crisis Argentine art field, mentioned that, in Oligatega Numeric’s case, the main reason for their union was their aim to “[...] realizar obra conjunta utilizando tecnología en contra del funcionamiento que se espera de la misma” [create a joint piece using technology in ways contrary to its expected function] (2009 62). Besides, Giunta further explained, “el eje de su investigación grupal es el diálogo entre tecnologías que no han sido creadas para funcionar articuladas […]” [the group’s research is based on the dialogue between technologies that were not created to work together] (2009 262).


Picture 05. Cabaret Voltaire, “Maravilla tecnovilla”, 2003. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

The principle of using technology counter to its functionality is what Inés Acevedo and Claudio Iglesias, both Argentine art critics and historians, recognized as an adaptation of the cyberpunk philosophy in this group. According to them, this adaptation consists, for instance, in “[…] abrir un archivo de texto con un programa de audio que interpreta el texto como si fuera un sonido y lo traduce en un ruido insoportable” […] [opening a text file with an audio program that interprets the text as if it were a sound and translates it into an unbearable noise] (2006 np), a similar procedure to what Oligatega Numeric did in the exhibition “Maravilla Tecknovilla” (Picture 05).5 However, neither Acevedo nor Iglesias delved into the contrasts and similarities between Oligatega and cyberpunk. Even though it’s true that their creation of fantastic settings resembles some of the typical features of that science fiction genre, Oligatega’s use of decayable techonology subverts the axiom “high tech low level of life” inherent to cyberpunk. The objects used are rudimentary, trash in the literal sense of the term. This quality does not necessary imply a low level of life. On the contrary, its recycling suggests the existence of some sort of ecology in the production process, which is a typical procedure of evolved societies. Besides, the characters created by this group do not correspond to cyberpunk’s tendency to show valuable hackers and solitary heroes, but rather make creatures who tend to create confusion and lack of communication. That said, despite the fact that Oligatega does differ from some of cyberpunk’s basic characteristics, the reshaping of cast-off objects into complex entities, monsters from outer space, bring Oligatega Numeric closer to certain aspects of the marginalized beings of classic cyberpunk.6


Picture 06. Perfomance en la Universidad Di Tella, “El enorme Fantasmas”, 2008. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

Accordingly, the reused out-dated technologies, which are employed in ways contrary to its original usage and as an apology for the surrounding dearth, explore a dystopic utopia that is connected to the deprived reality of the country. Oligatega’s videos are an outcome of these aesthetic choices (see samples of their videos below at: https://vimeo.com/95886007). They are constructed as windows to a future that is not what it used to be in the Sixties, in the Fluxus era and the space conquest. As stated in Daniel Abate Art Gallery’s webpage, the group has been working with video from the very beginning and has been enriching its language over time: “La construcción narrativa de las obras fue creciendo en complejidad desde el primer video realizado en 1999 (gatovisita) que fue el producto de un safari nocturno por la ciudad a la busca de imágenes y es también ahí donde aparece el primer personaje ficcional” [their works’ narrative construction have become more complex since they released their first video in 1999. Gatovisita is the result of an overnight safari through the city in search of images and it is also where Oligatega’s first fictional carácter appeared].7


Oligatega Numeric. Sample of videos.



Picture 07. Perfomance en la Universidad Di Tella, “El enorme Fantasmas”, 2008. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

The existence of these fictional characters vertebrates Oligatega’s works. Each one of them embody the concept of the work and represent at the same time one more member of the group that has the power to decide over its own development, like any other person in the collective. This personification has come across not only in that first gatovisita but also in other subsequent works, such as Mobo 68 and El enorme (see Pictures 06 and 07)9, which are entities that appear in different Oligatega’s sets and narrations. All these beings are repeated with slight changes from one work to the other. At some points they are fantastical characters, monsters that inhabit the screen or the three-dimensional space call into existence by the projection, like in gatovisita, Monos en el museo (2004) and Silencio Modular (2006) (see Pictures 10, 11, 12 AND 13), while in other circumstances these entities are sculptural machines made out of old bits of junk –Olkoholu oldujici concienzoids (2003); Nosequé y su computadora (2008) (see Picture 08); El Presidente (2006) (see Picture 09)– that are immersed in stage environments built for future videos. These creatures coming out from fictional realities maintain the group’s technological experimentation, which is connected at the same time to the actual word ‘oligatega’, a strange being that creates confusion.



Picture 08. Límite Sud, “Nosequé y su computadora”, performance junto a Ernesto Ballesteros, 2008. Perfomance en la Universidad Di Tella, “El enorme Fantasmas”, 2008. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

Chaos and bewilderment are, therefore, the essence of the technological dialogue that, between trash and cyberpunk, manifest not only a formal construction of the group but also a specific way of carrying out the creative process. In comparison to other collectives of the time, Oligatega Numeric does not work in an organized and horizontal way but rather “encouraging confusión” (Acevedo & Iglesias 2006 np). Even though they share with these groups the idea of pursuing a common project, from the very beginning the Oligatega’s members wanted to keep their own individual identity without maintaining an exclusive loyalty to the collective, which, according to them, in its condition as a creative entity has its proper autonomy. Accordingly, the mosaic formation of the group has a direct influence over their work’s compositional process, because the new modes of socialization practiced among Oligatega’s members is reflected in the social-networking interactions experienced by each individual element that constitute their videos, sculptures and sets-installations.


Picture 09. “El presidente”, 2006. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

Trash, cyberpunk, the creative entities, the sets –i.e. the theatrical stages–, the dialogues between different technologies and disciplines, as well as the collective way of working and the metadiscursive gesture to the socio-political context, they are all present in Silencio Modular (see Pictures 10, 11, 12 AND 13). The work consists of a video –shown either on a monitor or on a projected Wall– and a group of objects that appear in it scattered throughout the exhibition space: the piece of furniture designed for extraterrestrials that belong to the spaceship cabin, the small woodden piano with an incrusted crystal ball on top, the monster-artifact covered with fake-white-polar bear’s fur and the green cement-mixer hanging from one wall filled with electronic plaques. The bonds established between these objects and the video transform this work into a video-installation that explores the impossibility of communicating, whilst questioning the boundaries between fiction and reality. This is due mainly to the work’s double configuration of time and space.



Picture 10. “Silencio modular”, 2006. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.



Picture 11. “Silencio modular”, 2006. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.


Picture 12. “Silencio modular”, 2006. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

On one hand, there is the time-space put into play in the video (see it at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2hUWF09kF8). In this piece we observe how a spaceship gets closer to a planet and starts destroying its protective rings. The alien monster travelling inside manages to get into this world. Through a series of shot-reverse-shots between the alien and a defenseless little girl, hightened up by a tense extra-diegetic music –created by the Oligatega’s members themselves, who are also the musicians of the group called Rondamones– we can perceive this creature as a menace to the human race. The girl, alone in a dark room without any further protection but a small piano, remains unaware of the fact that the monster is using the green cement-mixer to get to her. In the following sequence we see a subjective shot of the tentacles rapidly approaching the girl from the back, suggesting us that the worst is about to happen. Nonetheless, the sudden cut to a black screen were the words “Silencio modular” appear, accompanied by an image of the supposedly dead girl illuminated on a stage greeting a fictional audience, make evident the artificial construction of the alien attack.


Oligatega Numeric

On the other hand, the audience’s experience of this work also puts into play, like any other video-installation, the exhibition space and the time of reception of all the elements shown.10 Subsequently, the interaction between the video and the objects that surround it generates multiple interpretations. The collision of various meanings causes certain confusion among those who submerge in Oligatega’s proposed environment. In this space, the neatly distributed objects spread throughout the room, without any signs of alien or human life, bring us closer to the science-fiction world portrayed in the video, making it real in the materialization of the virtual pieces exposed in the white cube.


Picture 13. “Silencio modular”, 2006. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

The video’s subject shows a possible future time where invasions of strange beings from outer space into unknown planets inhabited by humans are feasible. Nevertheless, when we watch the video from the present time of the exhibition space, surrounded by the objects used in the narrative construction of the plausible girl’s abduction, it all seem to suggest that the video shows a past time, an audiovisual evidence of an action that took place in a former moment, which the objects come to testify in their trim location throughout the exhibition space. On this convergence of times and spaces Acevedo explained that “el pasado, el video, nos enfrenta con el presente de los objetos, y nos obliga a interrogarlos como restos de un crimen, como señales” [the past, the video, they both collide with the presence of the objects and force us to question them as possible traces or signs of a crime] (Acevedo 73). These signs are allegorically constructed through the artifacts made out of junk pieces and through the dialogues established between those objects and the video. Nonetheless, they refuse a unique rational explanation, partly due to the silence left in the room by the absence of the entities shown in the video and the lack of certainty about what is real and what is fictional. Acevedo suggested on this setting that,

 [Si] en Crimental kitchinet presenciamos más bien la escena del crimen; en Silencio modular vemos la evidencia, objetos sacados fuera de contexto, expuestos como si estuviéramos en un museo. La muestra nos obliga a interrogar cosas no humanas, silenciosas. El título, Silencio modular, conduce otra vez a la ausencia de comunicación.

 [If] in Crimental kitchinet we witness a crime scene; in Silencio modular we see the evidence, the objects taken out of their context, displayed as if they were in a museum. The exhibition forces us to question non-human silent things. The title, Silencio modular, takes us once again to the absence of communication. (Acevedo 73)


Picture 14. “Tren Fantasma”, Premio Arte BA–Petrobras, 2005. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

By becoming museum pieces, these objects gained a verisimilitude that not only challenges us to interrogate the non-human effects but also makes us aware of the representational strategies involved in the processes of modulating reality. Towards the end of the video, the presence of the little girl greeting a ficticious audience as if it were the end of a theatre performance suggests that the exhibited objects could also be part of a theatrical staging, nothing else but atrezzo material. Thus, the video, with its fragmented images and unresolved tensions, seems to be a trailer of a famous film that incites the audience to go to the museum to see all the details and objects involved in its production process. This way of interpreting the video-installation is the outcome of the combination of two tendencies developed by the collective in their previous works: the creation of false trailers –such as the case of Monos en el museo (2004)– and the construction of different sets-stages that are allegedly part of a bigger project to shoot a film –like the different scenes of El enorme (See Pictures 04, 06 AND 07).


Picture 15. “Tren Fantasma”, Premio Arte BA–Petrobras, 2005. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

When we are located as spectators inside Silencio modular’s set, we are turned into actors, into new beings that symbolically appropriate those objects scattered through the room and resignify them according to the exhibition space that is temporarily inhabited. This experience is not regulated or conditioned by the play of lights that indicate where the gaze should be located –as what happened in their first exhibitions– nor by the signs or texts that indicate how we should think or live inside those four walls, inside the remains of a parallel world that wanders between trash and cyberpunk. Free from any preconception, the dialogues established among the different elements make sense when they are thought through from our own subjectivity, which tries to interact with them but it is constantly frustrated by the impossibility to seize them and to give them a new purpose. We are then marginalized as spectators-actors of that world, and we are transformed, in that new context, in the personification of the impossibility to communicate, which is an idea that is always present in one way or another in all the art works done by the collective and in certain pieces made individually by some Oligatega’s members.


Picture 16. Beca Kuitca, “La Última Beca”, 2005. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

Precisely, the Oligatega Numeric’s members own personal productions develop all these aspects in-depth from various perspectives, which have all converged in Silencio modular. Accordingly, Mateo Amaral, who is one of Oligatega’s artists with most visibility in the videographic field in the last years, applied in his videos the same animation techniques done by computer that were used in Oligatega’s quasi-alien-abduction previously described. On this common methodology of the group and its members, it is claimed in the book Técnica: Video,11 that in Amaral’s work you can see ‘[…] las fallas de la tecnología: chispazos de estática, intermitencias, video y sonido hipercomprimidos a baja definición, el balbuceo disléxico de máquinas extemporáneas. Ese uso algo desconfiado y, por qué no, algo destartalado de la técnica es similar al que Amaral suele adoptar, también, en su trabajo con Oligatega Numeric […]’ (Capelli 28) (See Amaral´s video at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCYEyVlLiMo). We can perceive all these connections in each shot transition of the video Silencio modular, in the way it deals with the temporal ellipsis and in the quality and adaptation of diegetic and extradiegetic sounds.


Amaral's video

Additionally, the principle of creating an interaction between a video and surrounding objects in an exhibition space is one of the areas that Mariano Giraud has explored the most in his own productions. Among his most prominent works we should mention the creation of multifom monsters that look like aliens coming from virtual worlds –either from science fiction or from old videogames–12 which are similar to the tentacular extra-terrestrial being that threatens the little girl in the video-installation analyzed above. The play with the light, the shadow, and the recycled objects is characteristic of Alfio Demestre and Maximiliano Bellman’s works, who tend to de-contextualize the primary functions of these objects and grant them new meanings, like in the case of electronic plaques inserted in the green cement mixer, that appears in Oligatega’s video and in the exhibition space of Silencio modular.


Picture 17. “Sudmamoune”, DA galeria Arte BA, 2006. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

All these particular skills, hold by each individual member of Oligatega Numeric, are intertwined in the collective’s productions and confer to them a peculiar plural authorship that is in tune with the cultural boom and the collectivization of the artistic productions that took place in the crisis of 2001 period. The urgency that defined those days was slowly woven into this collective’s work, not only in its form –by recycling discarded objects– but also in its content –by creating dystopic narrations that draw analogies between the Argentine reality and the ideal immagined community. The collective, as it has been demonstrated, has promoted a technological exploration –through their special sets, monsters and constructed realities proper of the cyberpunk world– and also an experimentation of the concept of recycling at a depression time when reusing discarded objects and gathering together to produce seemed to be the only way to carry on an artistic production. (See samples of other works done by the collective in Pictures 14-18).


Picture 18. “Domótica Ameba”,  Galería Foster Catena, 2011. Courtesy Oligatega Numeric.

Other collective responses to waste
A well-known example of productions manufactured out of waste during this time of crisis is the case of the publishing house Eloísa Cartonera (www.eloisacartonera.com.ar/ENGversion.html).  One of the major consequences of the crisis was the rise of informal economies, particularly those that were dealing with all kinds of waste. The popularly known ‘cartoneros (cardboard collectors), who walked through the streets in search of cardboard pieces and paper scraps pulled from rubbish bins in order to sell them for whatever they could get, became a common presence in the urban landscape. Eloísa Cartonera’s work basically consisted of photocopying donated texts, cutting the cardboard bought from the cartoneros, painting the covers and going out to the streets to sell the final product. During this production process, its members could modify the covers (i.e. by changing its shape, colours, pictures, etc.), so it became a unique artistic object made out of the discarded materials collected by the cartoneros. Their productions soon became a symbol of the artistic responses to the crisis. Their initial social project to keep the cartoneros (most of them were children or teenagers) off the streets, was transformed in due time into a contemporary art endeavour, up to the point of representing Argentina in the 2006 Sao Paulo Art Biennial (one of the most important contemporary art events in the world).

Within the specific audiovisual field, the work done by many collectives of ‘videoactivists’ should be noted. These collectives consisted of groups of video-documentarists who took to the streets to capture the reality that the TV news stations were not reporting during the events of December and its aftermath. Among them, we could mention Argentina Arde, ADOC, Cine Insurgente, whose collection of the work of different video-producers generated a creative process in which the appropriation and resignification of TV sequences became common practice.13 When it comes to the videos that received the most attention in the arts sphere, a significant case to acknowledge is the Cordobese group known as Arteproteico. Like the members of Oligatega, they met while studying film at the national university and formed the group to face their economic constraints. Their first videos, 2050 cartas de amor (2001) and Cabeza rayada (2002), were made out of found-footage film stock discovered in a rubbish bin. How they made aesthetic virtue out of their economic necessity and how, by doing so, challenged the disciplinary boundaries between the arts field and the film area, exceed the extent of this article and should, therefore, be further discussed and analyzed in future works.14

Conclusion
The ‘Crisis of 2001’ in Argentina was not another form a protest but a whole breakdown of the representative State which had a significant cultural impact. Despite receiving notable attention in specialized literature in past years, its scope is yet far from being fully grasped. Accordingly, this article tried to focus on the audiovisual productions of one of the lesser-known collectives created during those days, with the aim of continuing to map out one of the most creative periods of recent Argentine history.

The use of recycled materials gave a distinctive retro-futuristic tone to the oneiric and surreal sceneries of Oligatega Numeric’s videos and installations. Old, discarded objects were combined to portray a seemingly advanced time period where life on different planets was viable and spaceship travel and alien monsters were common ground. In this respect, many of their works resembled the trash aesthetic. They put together loose objects and images and the outcome tended to be a cheap look. Nonetheless, Oligatega Numeric did not emphasize the decadent aspects of reused-castoff objects, but rather the multiple aesthetic possibilities of their recycling. Additionally, the group’s artworks also are reminiscent of the cyberpunk world. The complex extraterrestrial entities created by the handling of disused technology were closely related to the marginal beings of classic cyberpunk, where rapid technological changes collide and create a dystopic future. Nevertheless, Oligatega Numeric’s creatures and constructed spaces were prone to lose their negative connotations and rather explored a dysfunctional utopia.

By analyzing all these similarities and contradictions between the collective’s productions and different established aesthetic forms, this article has attempted to explore how wasted materials can become a piece of art charged with particular ideological and political connotations in times of struggle. Other examples of this aesthetic of recycling in the post-crisis of 2001 period in Argentina were given to fully comprehend the extent of this artistic practice.
 

Cited Works
Abate Galería. http://abategaleria.com/web/index.php/artist/show?id=20&color=339900 (accessed on 9th April 2013).

Acevedo, Inés. “Un mensaje para los críticos de arte. A propósito de Silencio modular, última exhibición de Oligatega Numeric.” Ramona. Revista de artes visuales 61 (June 2006): 68-73. Web: http://www.ramona.org.ar/files/r61b.pdf

Acevedo, Inés and Iglesias Claudio. “Oligatega Numeric: que comience la ficción!” Web: http://arteyliteratura.blogspot.com/2006/07/oligatega-numeric-que-comience-la.html (accessed on 6 April 2013), 2006.

Capelli, Matías. “Ruido de colores”. López Mato, T.; Palacios Hidalgo, L. and González Naya, A. Comps. Técnica: Video. Buenos Aires: Olmo Ediciones, 2009. Print.

De la Puente, Maximiliano and Russo, Pablo. El compañero que lleva la cámara: cine militante argentino. Buenos Aires: Editorial Tierra del Sur, 2007. Print.

De la Puente, Maximiliano and Russo, Pablo. “El nuevo cine militante antes y después de 2001. Teoría y práctica del cine de intervención política en la era del video.” Lusnich, A. L. and Piedras, P. Eds. Una historia del cine político y social en Argentina: formas, estilos y registros 1969-2009. Buenos Aires: Nueva Librería, 2011. Print.

Giunta, Andrea. “Arte y biopolítica” in Farina, F. and Labaké, A. Comp. Poéticas contemporáneas: itinerarios en las artes visuales en la Argentina de los 90 al 2010. Buenos Aires: Fondo Nacional de las Artes, 2010. Print.

-----. Poscrisis: arte argentino después de 2001. Buenos Aires: Siglo Veintiuno Editores, 2009. Print.

Katzenstein, Inés. “Trash: una sensibilidad de la pobreza y la sobreinformación.” Farina, F. and Labaké, A. Comp. Poéticas contemporáneas: itinerarios en las artes visuales en la Argentina de los 90 al 2010. Buenos Aires: Fondo Nacional de las Artes, 2010. Print.

MUSAC’s webpage. Web: http://musac.es/index.php?ref=29200 (accessed on 6 April 2013).

Paladino, Diana Coord. “Introducción.” Documentalismo y militancia: 2001-2008. Buenos Aires: Editorial de la Facultad de Filosofía y Letras Universidad de Buenos Aires, 2010. Print.

Person, Lawrence. “Notes Toward a Postcyberpunk Manifesto” 
Slashdot. Web: http://slashdot.org/story/99/10/08/2123255/Notes- Toward-a-Postcyberpunk-Manifesto (accessed on 9 April 2013), 1999.

Rodríguez Mattalía, Lorena. Arte videográfico: inicios, polémicas, y parámetros básicos de análisis. Valencia: Editorial Universidad Politécnica de Valencia, 2008. Print.

Sel, Susana Comp. “Anexo II. Catálogo de colectivos, grupos y realizadores de documentales y audiovisuales de intervención política.” Cine y fotografía como intervención política. Buenos Aires: Prometeo Libros, 2007. Print.

Notes
1 In 2007, Leandro Tartaglia broke up from the group to pursue his solo career. 

2 This way of defining their own creative process was mentioned, among others, at the Museum of Contemporary Art of Castilla y León (MUSAC)’s webpage that, upon acquiring a collective’s work for its collection, makes a brief description of the groups dynamics. https://issuu.com/musac_ara/docs/musac04 (accessed on 28 April 2016).

3 This division of labor did not always work in the same way. For many pieces they implemented other modes of production such as, for instance, a parody of the Fordist’s assembly line. Please check on this matter: Acevedo & Iglesias 2006.

4 All translations from Spanish are mine.

5 This exhibition took place in the art and literary space “Cabaret Voltaire” in 2003. It consisted of a workshop on the concept of “tecnovilla” where they painted a series of drawings. The illustrations were exhibited later on in an hexagonal structure that was connected through cables and lights, simulating the neuronal functions. Acevedo and Iglesias explained that, to draw these sketches they “submerged the printer in a culinary process.” They boiled, baked and microwaved the printer. With all the remaining plastic pieces they built brushes and used the same ink diluted in water.

6 The cyberpunk specialist Lawrence Person (1999) has stated that “classic cyberpunk characters were marginalized, alienated loners who lived on the edge of society in generally dystopic futures where daily life was impacted by rapid technological change, an ubiquitous datsphere of computerized information, and invasive modification of the human body.”

7 http://abategaleria.com/web/index.php/artist/show?id=20&color=339900 (accessed on 9th April 2013 – this webpage is no longer active).

8 The name Mobo 6 dice was used for Oligatega Numeric’s exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in Buenos Aires (MAMBA) in 2004. The main piece of the exhibition was a talking robot.

9 El enorme is the title of the work that Oligatega Numeric presented at the exhibition De Frente, curated by Victoria Noorthoorn in June 2005 at the Spanish Cultural Centre of Buenos Aires (CCEBA). This video-sculpture form part of a project that consisted in shooting different scenes of a movie using various installations as sets, instead of using normal film settings. This methodology was implemented on a regular basis by the group, as can be appreciated in Silencio Modular’s case.

10 Please refer to Lorena Rodríguez Mattalía (2008) for further information on the exhibition space and the time of reception in contemporary video-installations.

11 This remark was done with reference to the video Almacenado libros (2008) created by Amaral.

12 A good example of this are his works: Realidad aumentada (2010) and Fenómenos (2010).

13 Please refer to the articles written by De la Puente & Russo 2007, 2011; Sel 2007; and Paladino 2010, for further information on these collectives’s works. For an analysis of ADOC’s reused of media images, please check my unpublished PhD Thesis available at the Universidad Autónoma de Madrid’s website.

14 For further analysis of Arteproteico’s work please refer to: Garavelli, C. (2015), “Cinema as ‘Found’ footage in experimental Argentine video.” New Cinemas 13.1: 65–77, doi: 10.1386/ncin.13.1.65_1