Standing in front of his massive artwork in the centre of the new exhibition in the Auckland Art Gallery depicting a black and white image of a Guaraní warrior with a bright red heart installation above it, Joaquín Sánchez comments that the image will fade well before the heart made from native Paraguayan plants would deteriorate. Joaquín Sánchez, Chaco 2012 I find this insight fascinating. A heart is our most vital and vulnerable organ and also the allegory of our emotions and feelings, the least stable, nuanced and very delicate material. Our heart is the domain of the arts and art is at the heart of our lives. I feel what the artist says metaphorically is that defying the laws of nature, the true art will live long after we are gone, sending our heartbreaks and dreams into the future in a secured time capsule, connecting us through our common feelings and emotions with the people of past and future generations. Joaquín Sánchez was born in Paraguay, a country devastated by the most brutal war in South America that wiped out 70% per cent of its adult male population. He has travelled the world and settled in Bolivia, arguably the poorest and most criminalised country on the continent. Both Paraguay and Bolivia share more than the border, common history and indigenous groups, they also both claim to be in the heart of South America. Joaquín is full of energy and charisma; he talks openly, sincerely and passionately, straight from his heart. He takes to his heart problems of his countries and I believe it is no coincidence that heart became a recurrent motif in his artworks. When Joaquín mentions Paraguayan war, it feels like he has lived through the conflict although the painful events actually took place in the 1860s. He tells me that he was born in Campo Grande, the place of the last battle where, after the last Paraguayan soldiers had been defeated, 3,500 children aged between 6 and 15 took their place facing 20,000 strong Brazilian army. Some children had painted beards to appear older and used toy guns instead of real weapons, nearly all were ruthlessly slaughtered. I am intrigued as to how some people including Māori and Jews seem to have a special awareness of the past, processing history differently by having much longer historical memories. This skill is close to the heart of many New Zealanders, as WW1 and WW2 helped shape our national identity. Joaquín's panoramic installations of historical black-and-white group shots of Bolivian soldiers dotted with red hearts not only bring alive their stories but also connect them through association with red poppies and the memories of ANZAC soldiers. I learn that Guaraní, the language of indigenous Paraguayans and the first language that Joaquín learned, has different concept of time. The future in it is uncertain however the past is rather structural as what actually happened is separated from what was supposed to happen, but did not. In Bolivia, the two official indigenous languages Aymara and Quechua share a concept of time unusual to us, where we are facing our past backing down into our future. The former is well known while the latter is dark and uncertain. The past has tremendous importance in Joaquín’s works including the three artworks presented in the Auckland Art Gallery as part of the ground-breaking exhibition of contemporary art from South America. His works represent multimedia, multidimensional, multi-layered experience. Through the synthesis of various art forms his investigative mind dissects the past revealing raw emotions and feelings in all their transparency and fragility. Joaquín Sánchez, Chaco 2012 The modern Auckland Art Gallery with its extensive collection of classical art provides the perfect setting for Joaquin's works complementing them with intriguing context. Like the famous New Zealand artist Goldie who has documented Māori, Joaquín has been examining the glory and tragedy of the natives of South America that continues to this day. In Goldie’s time it was believed that Māori were a dying race. In South America many native tribes, who fought the invaders, have actually been wiped out by the conquistadors. Guaraní people, who peacefully engaged with Jesuits, are considered a success story. But while Guaraní language has been adopted as the official language of Paraguay, Guaraní people are struggling with similar issues as modern Māori. Other tribes are fairing much worse, Joaquin tells chilling stories about indigenous people including one committing ‘collective tribal suicide’ when the last remaining tribesmen decided to not have any offspring and let their bloodline cease. One of his art videos presented in the Gallery follows an indigenous Bolivian woman as she sees the ocean for the first time. Bolivia, like Paraguay, is a landlocked country but it once had the access to the ocean. Naturally, majority of people in either country cannot swim but they share in their collective memory a longing for the land long lost and the good times gone by. Mboi Piré (Cambio de piel o piel de serpiente) ( 2007) Back home, Joaquín once staged an award-wining performance on the world’s most elevated lake Titicaca, famous for its man-made floating islands. The artist who can’t swim was floating stark naked inside a gigantic see-through elastic heart, exposing his dreams, fears and vulnerability. Joaquín has travelled the world, lived in gay metropolis’ like Paris, Mexico City and Buenos Aires but rather unexpectedly settled down in the poorest country in South America with rudimentary LGBTI rights. What draws him to the place is its unique spirituality, he is still exploring, recharging and getting inspired by it. He, one of the most acclaimed and awarded artists of the continent, is also mentoring a range of new inspiring artists in Bolivia. He refuses to view his role as a trainer or editor of their work, treasuring instead an opportunity to get to know different personal worlds of his fellow artists and collaborate with them. I like the idea that artistic talents acts like magnets and catalysts in a synergic creative process. If art is a journey then artists are the guides and interpreters into the other worlds. I believe that LGBTI artists have a specific message, destiny and possess special skills. Former BP CEO John Browne in his bestselling book 'The glass closet' discussed advantages of gay managers. I believe that LGBTI people can make better artists too. LGBTI people are more likely to experience suffering, bulling and abuse, get over it to feel deeper and stronger. Drawing on their own experiences, they are more likely to be able to relate more to the issues of discrimination and injustice, be emphatic and supportive, appreciate beauty and queerness of the world around in all its nuances. Since antiquity LGBTI people have been praised for their unique sets of skills and in many cultures were considered as guides into the spiritual world, serving as shamans, priests and artists. I believe that successful artists have to go through immerse internal or external pain to reach their maximum creative potential. If Art is a therapy, an artist could at the same time be a healer and recovering patient. And while art can become a magic vaccine that cures us, creative process can be both a blessing and a curse for an artist who often may take on the pain from the world and has to relive their own traumatic memories. It is intriguing how art and life can alternate, coexist or intertwine inside of us. Joaquín Sanchez can be a shy and reserved person that turns into a bold and fearless artist. Bilingual from birth, he became a modern Guaraní warrior, two-spirit man who is fighting to unite yin and yang, East and West, Paraguay and Bolivia. Joaquín agrees that art should be functional, that an artist who has deep feelings and the urge to create and express themselves is capable of conveying a strong message. And even if an artist themselves may not be able to change the world, they can help people see the world from a different perspective. As we part, Joaquín presents me with his business card, an elegant artwork of his own creation. It is a piece of see-through plastic with a red heart trapped in it, that looks like a drop of blood under the lab glass. I put it into my chest pocket, feeling that I carry a piece of Joaquín's heart with me. I begin to understand why Joaquin's heartfelt art touches our hearts; he virtually gives away pieces of his heart in his art pieces. Alexander Lowë - 25th July 2016