Book Review: tonatiuh
Juan Brenner’s recently released photobook, Tonatiuh is the history book we all wished we had in school, given that we’re still unable to rewrite the history it tells. It provokes the codified narrative of the Spanish conquest of Guatemala and the effect the events continue to have on the now independent yet fraught nation. In 2018, Brenner retraced conquistador Pedro de Alvarado’s steps, mapping fifty towns and villages in Guatemala. The route was that which Alvarado took in the sixteenth century which brought violence and devastation to the indigenous people of the region. Brenner followed the route which spans the Guatemalan highlands but also the more northern route along which key battles were fought by Alvarado’s commanders, diverting attention from their shepard’s fleet, ultimately headed to El Salvador. Brenner said in an interview included in the end of the book, “I wanted to see what Alvarado saw, ride the roads he traveled, to walk in his steps and try to understand the magnitude of the whole enterprise of the conquest.”
Brenner, a fashion photographer in New York from 1998-2008, born and raised in Guatemala, turned to this project when he felt it was time to confront antiquated ideas about what happened when the Spanish came to the New World. Brenner states that he felt reality was getting lost in repetition. The photos that came out of the project are a triumph of putting history under the microscope, but at the same time keeping the window of the lab wide open. The book is historical and contemporary, intimate and expansive, infused with memory and also reflection.
Images are interspersed between text collected from archival materials such as letters between Hernan Cortez and Alvarado, the book Annals of the Cakchiquels, and others. Brenner’s arrangement is quite intentional, some spreads even coming together to form diptychs. A photo of dancers in traditional garb on one page next to wood coffins on the ground on another ignites a dialogue about the death of history and cultural identity. Pointing to the social repercussions of the genocide that took place not so long ago.
The political implications of Brenner’s work are explicit. He writes “The poor are always the first to suffer from the widespread violence,” to accompany a photo of a taxi (or tuk tuk) driver in the dangerous city, Chimaltenango. He calls attention to the lack of resources available to some Guatemalans, the implications of globalization on the country’s ethnic identity, and the security risks imposed by organized crime. The photos speak loud and clear for the relationship between contemporary Guatemalan challenges and the injustices the indigenous people of Guatemala faced in the sixteenth century. By following Brenner on this journey, I learned the story of Catholic conversion missions, the slaves of the encomienda system, the Spanish quest for gold, all over again but in such a way that does the story justice. Brenner’s book commanded my attention and would not let me look away. “I want people to examine the scenes of everyday life and become suspicious of what may very well be an imposed reality,” (Brenner 2019). His is a remarkably successful and necessary approach to the confrontation of a colonial legacy on an increasingly globalized, and continually unjust word.