The Curse of Geography is an on-going series of investigative projects focused on the relationship of geographic isolation or proximity on social justice, human rights and public policy in selected locations around the world. Our reports are produced in multi-media format and in partnership with artists, journalists, NGOs, academic and cultural institutions, and news outlets.
"I really think it's time to go,” our guide says as he nervously glances at his phone that glows half past five. Around us, as if on an unspoken cue, the air of urgency and anxiety thickens, and it strikes us that we have lost track of time and we urgently need to conclude our assignment.
Human figures hover ghostlike above the ground. They have no faces, nor do they reveal any emotion. Outlined on canvas, they are cold, detached, lingering motionlessly as if waiting for someone to notice them. The half-dozen works of art hanging on the bare wooden walls depict family scenes—they are painted in bold primary colors with rudimentary strokes.
“Hurricanes and natural events are not the disaster. The system is the disaster,” says Pedro Adorno. Sitting in a basement studio a few blocks from Villa Carmen, his profile blends in with the dozens of life-size—and larger than life-size—puppets propped up against the walls and sitting idly on shelves, waiting to be brought back to life
For most people in La Mosquitia, the far eastern coast of Honduras, there are only two forms of gainful employment - lobster fishing and drug trafficking. 90% of the cocaine that ends up in the United States passes through this isolated and neglected corner of the world. 90% of the lobster harvested here arrives at the same destination. This coupled with corruption and the war on drugs has had adverse effects on the indigenous Miskito people. In May 2017, German Andino, Alberto Arce and Sidd Joag traveled to the Mosquito Coast for three weeks to understand the situation more clearly.
ArtsEverywhere investigates the adverse effects of strict regulations and quotas on the diminishing local, family fisheries of Western Newfoundland. Is this Newfoundland's last generation of fishermen?
Emma Kazaryan reports from the borderlands of Tajikistan and Afghanistan, one of the most inaccessible parts of the world. An anachronistic place, converged upon by uneven development and outward migration.
As the passenger van tumbled hastily down the narrow, washed-out road, a loud pop disrupted our journey, and we lurched to a stop. Our guide Nima Renqing instructed us to get out of the vehicle and inspected the deflated tire, seemingly uncertain as to how he should manage the situation. He pulled out a spare tire and jack, laid them next to the van and sat down on the ground with a slightly confused look on his face. “I’ve never changed a tire before,” he quickly offered.
