By
David Edgar
PhD Anthropology
A cacophony of drumming, chanting, and explosions drifts through my window. I grab my camera and run into the street. It’s las barras: fervent football fans with a reputation for passionate devotion, but also violence (analogous but not exactly synonymous with “hooligans”; “barras” does not imply inherent violence). Today these devotees of Independiente Medellin are touring the stadium on foot and on trucks ahead of a match — they chant songs (accompanied by drummers and trumpeters), wave flags; many share aguardiente (a local liquor) and perico (cocaine). They throw small explosives, one of which fucks up the sound on my camera. You’ll note the majority of this clip does not have sync sound — I had to play with what little I had.
Indeed, I’ve been playing with my camera and footage here in Medellin whilst conducting fieldwork on gyms and “fitness cultures.” I’m interested in how the camera can perceive, describe, and theorise in a way words cannot — especially in relation to embodied, non-verbal experiences and practices. What can this footage of las barras achieve that this accompanying description cannot? Can I better evoke the viscerally affective quality of that scene with images and sounds rather than words? Can I theorise about bodies, masculinity, and passion with composition and editing rather than long complex sentences littered with latinate words?
I say I’m playing with my camera, because I am not sure what I’m doing with it, I’m not sure what I’m working towards. But I know it excites me. I know it not only gives me another means of expression, but that it helps me see different things and see differently. And I know it creates different kinds of relationships, between me and my interlocutors. In the field, I was tentative at first, but quickly realised many of the people I met in Medellin’s gyms love to perform for the camera (they were more likely to “robar cámara” than shy away from it (“steal camera”, meaning to seize the spotlight). Many ask what instagram or tiktok account they will be able to see themselves on. You’ll see in this video that many of these football fans wanted to be seen and heard by me — they brandish their shirts, their tattoos, their passion. But others did not — what you don’t see in this video is the moment when one guy angrily asked me what the hell I was doing. “No me gusta no me gusta” he kept saying (“I don’t like it”), swiping his giant flag towards me and my camera. This was a public spectacle in a public space, yet here was an enthusiastic withdrawal of consent. He may have thought I was capturing evidence, perhaps seeking to criminalise or sensationalise this community as the state or the press have done, wielding the camera as a weapon. I was dazed, and tried to explain my intentions, but heeded the advice of another man who saw the impending violence, looked me in the eye, and said: “corre” (“run”).
