martes, 20 de octubre de 2026

The Basket and the Bow: Mbyá-Guaraní Aesthetics as a Balance Between Memory and Desire

 

Bernabé Mallo

Doctor en Filosofía por la Universidad del País Vasco (UPV/EHU)
Investigador en neurofilosofía, evolución humana y origen del arte. / PhD in Philosophy – University of the Basque Country (UPV/EHU)
Researcher in neurophilosophy, human evolution, and the origins of art.

 

A review of Carlos Mordo's book (2000): El cesto y el arco. Metáforas de la estética Mbyá-Guaraní


Introduction: a metaphor that says it all

There are books read with the head and books read with the body. El cesto y el arco, by Argentine anthropologist Carlos Mordo, belongs to the second category. Published in 2000 by the Centro de Estudios Antropológicos of the Universidad Católica (CEADUC) in Asunción, within the Biblioteca Paraguaya de Antropología, and with a prologue by critic and curator Ticio Escobar, this study of Mbyá-Guaraní aesthetics does not limit itself to describing objects: it proposes a way of looking that transforms our understanding of what it means to create.

Mordo died before seeing this book published, and it remains his intellectual testament. In its pages, the author unfolds a rigorous ethnohistorical work, based on interviews with caciques, religious leaders, and artisans, and on a meticulous tracking of the objects, rites, and customs of the Mbyá people. But what makes this book a singular contribution is not only its erudition, but the central metaphor that organises it: the opposition between the basket and the bow, between balance and tension, between the harmony of one's own form and the impulse toward the outside world.

This metaphor is not a literary ornament. It is an analytical tool that allows Mordo to articulate a matrix of complex interweavings between the moments that, on the one hand, safeguard memory and, on the other, project the community's aspirations. As the author himself notes, it is on the possibilities the Mbyá people have of facing imposed challenges —without letting go of the thread of memory or abandoning the course of their own desires— that the promise of a space disposed for the fullness of the human condition will remain open.


The basket and the bow: two gestures, two worlds

To understand the power of this metaphor, one must pause on the two objects that embody it.

The basket is the object of balance. Its closed form, its intricate weave, its symmetry. The basket contains, keeps, protects. It is the gesture of memory: what is conserved, what is transmitted, what is safeguarded. In Mbyá culture, the basket is a domestic object, but also a cosmological symbol: its weave reproduces the fabric of the universe, its designs refer to the animal and plant world, its structure embodies the order that gives meaning to chaos.

The bow is the object of tension. Its open form, its taut curve, its disposition toward the exterior. The bow projects, launches, reaches. It is the gesture of desire: what is sought, what is pursued, what is conquered. In Mbyá culture, the bow is a hunting instrument, but also a symbol of the agency that transforms the world. The bow is the gesture that leaves itself, that ventures into the unknown, that seeks what it does not yet have.

The opposition between the basket and the bow is not an opposition between good and bad, between one's own and the foreign. It is a productive tension: the balance of the basket and the tension of the bow need each other. Without the memory of the basket, the bow would be a gesture without roots, a violence without meaning. Without the tension of the bow, the basket would be a form closed upon itself, a memory without a future. Mbyá aesthetics, in Mordo's reading, is precisely the articulation of these two gestures: the form that closes to conserve and the form that opens to project.


The iconography of the basket: a woven bestiary

One of the most fascinating aspects of Mordo's book is his analysis of the iconography of Mbyá basketry. The designs that decorate the baskets are not arbitrary. They are visual metaphors of the environment, of the plant and animal world that surrounds the community.

Mbyá basket weavers, Mordo notes, were meticulous observers of nature. The patterns they wove referred to the skins of the snakes that inhabited the area, to the designs of the butterflies that appeared at the beginning of spring, to the scales of fish, to the shell of the armadillo. Each design had a name: the ornamental bands of the butterfly were called popo para; those of the yarará, rychy para; those of the coral snake, mbo'idayry para.

These designs, composed of geometric figures —zigzags, lozenges, triangles, checkerboard figures— were made visible thanks to the bichrome interplay generated by using wefts and warps of different colours. The weaver played with the number of threads taken and left in the weave, generating figures between the visible and hidden threads of the weft and warp.

What emerges from this analysis is a conception of art radically different from the Western one. The Mbyá basket is not a work of art in the modern sense of the term. There is no individual "artist" who signs their creation, no "work" contemplated in a museum, no "aesthetics" separated from everyday life. The basket is an object of use, a domestic utensil, a container for transporting and storing. But it is also —and at the same time— a cosmological symbol, a metaphor of the world, a memory device.

As Mordo notes, in the intricate design of the baskets, metaphorical references to the animal kingdom abound, emerging in the densely grid-like or mottled surfaces, in the superimposed bands, in the suggested figures, weaving intercrossed patterns that allow us to imagine the synthesised strokes of a world in motion. The basket does not represent the world; it is the world, in its woven form.


The tension between domestic use and the market

One of the most acute aspects of Mordo's analysis is his treatment of the relationship between Indigenous artisanal art dedicated to sale and that of domestic use. This tension is, at bottom, the same as that of the basket and the bow: the tension between memory (the object conserved for one's own use) and desire (the object produced for the market, for the other, for the exterior).

Mbyá artisanal production, Mordo notes, developed over recent decades to add to the means of subsistence. Baskets that were once woven for domestic use began to be woven also for sale. This transformation has profound consequences: designs that once had a cosmological meaning are partially emptied of content; motifs that once referred to a shared symbolic world are copied from other traditions; the weaver who once wove for their community now weaves for an anonymous buyer who does not share their universe of meanings.

Mordo neither condemns this transformation nor naively celebrates it. He describes it as a tension that the Mbyá people must navigate: the tension between fidelity to their own memory and openness to the demands of the outside world. The question that pulses throughout the book is: how to keep the thread of memory alive without renouncing dialogue with the other? How to conserve one's own form without closing oneself to the possibilities of the world?


Connection with research on the origin of art (S/Y/C)

Mordo's analysis offers a concrete case in which the functioning of the Law of Biological Coherence S/Y/C that forms the core of our research can be observed (Mallo, 2023, 2025, 2026a, 2026b). Mbyá aesthetics, as Mordo describes it, is an exemplary unfolding of the three dimensions of our thesis.

The S (Survival) dimension manifests in the adaptive function of basketry. Mbyá baskets are not decorative objects; they are tools of survival. They are used to transport food, to store seeds, to gather fruits. Their production, moreover, has become an economic strategy that complements traditional means of subsistence. Mbyá aesthetics is not a luxury; it is rooted in necessity.

The Y (Symbolon) dimension is the heart of Mordo's analysis. The designs of the baskets are symbolon in the fullest sense of the term: acts of recognition through shared codes. The patterns that refer to the snake's skin, the butterfly's wings, the armadillo's shell are not mere representations; they are ways of recognising the world, of naming it, of inscribing it in the weave. The weaver who weaves a jegua mboi ("adornment of the viper") is not copying a snake; they are actualising an ancestral relationship with the animal world, a bond that goes back to mythical origins.

The C (Wholeness) dimension manifests in the search for balance that characterises Mbyá aesthetics. The basket, with its closed and symmetrical form, is an image of wholeness: the form that closes upon itself, that reaches its fullness in closure. But that wholeness is not static; it is the result of a dynamic tension between the balance of the basket and the tension of the bow. The beauty of the basket does not reside in its finished form, but in the process that produces it: weaving as a repeated gesture, as embodied memory, as aspiration to totality.

Surgical Philosophy invites us to make a precise analytical cut in Mordo's book. It is not about idealising Mbyá aesthetics as a "pure" form of art, nor reducing it to mere artisanal production for the market. It is about recognising that the tension between the basket and the bow —between memory and desire, between one's own and the foreign, between tradition and the market— is constitutive of all human creation. There is no art without tension; there is no beauty without balance; there is no memory without project. Surgical Philosophy allows us to distinguish these levels and understand how they are articulated in the concrete practice of Mbyá basket weavers.


Open tensions: what the book leaves unresolved

Mordo's book is not a closed treatise, but an invitation to keep thinking. His analysis of Mbyá aesthetics opens several questions that remain without definitive answers, and which constitute, precisely, its greatest richness.

The first is the relationship between meaning and form. Mordo describes in detail the patterns of basketry and their names, but he does not always manage to reconstruct the mythological content those names evoke. What did weaving a popo para mean exactly for a Mbyá weaver? What relationship did that design have with the butterfly, with its life cycle, with its seasonal appearance? The book offers clues, but not a complete answer. That gap is not a defect of Mordo's, but a reflection of the difficulty of accessing a symbolic universe that has been transmitted, to a large extent, orally and that has been transformed through contact with the non-Indigenous world.

The second is the relationship between tradition and innovation. Mbyá weavers do not mechanically repeat inherited designs; they transform them, combine them, adapt them to new contexts. How to distinguish, in that transformation, what is fidelity to memory from what is a response to market demand? Where does tradition end and invention begin? Mordo offers no univocal answer, and perhaps there is none. The tension between the basket and the bow is, at bottom, irreducible.

The third is the relationship between art and life. Mbyá aesthetics, as Mordo describes it, does not separate art from everyday existence. The basket is an object of use and a work of beauty at the same time. What does this indistinction imply for our understanding of art? Does it force us to rethink the categories inherited from Western aesthetics? Or does it invite us, rather, to recognise that those categories were always partial, situated, historical?

These questions have no easy answer, and Mordo does not pretend to give them. His book is, in this sense, an exercise in intellectual humility: the recognition that the beauty of a culture is not exhausted in its analysis, and that all interpretation is, at bottom, a form of dialogue with what resists being completely understood.


Final considerations: weaving as a way of life

Carlos Mordo's book reminds us of something fundamental about art: there is no creation without tension. The beauty of the Mbyá basket is not a static beauty, but a beauty that emerges from the unstable balance between opposing forces. The basket that closes and the bow that opens; memory that conserves and desire that projects; tradition that anchors and the market that attracts. These opposites are not resolved in a synthesis, but maintained in productive tension.

For our research on the origin of art, Mbyá aesthetics offers a valuable lesson. Art, in its origin, was not an activity separated from life, not a luxury of specialists, not a disinterested contemplation. It was —and continues to be— a way of inhabiting the world, of weaving it, of naming it, of conserving it and projecting it. The Mbyá basket is not a work of art because it is in a museum; it is a work of art because it makes world. Because in its weave the memory of the ancestors and the aspiration of the living intercross; because in its form an entire way of being in the cosmos is condensed.

Mordo taught us to look at the basket and the bow as metaphors of existence. We add: art is, at its root, the form of that tension. Without the basket, there would be no memory; without the bow, there would be no desire. And without both, there would be no art.


References

Mallo, B. (2023). La construcción neuro-simbólica. Una aproximación al funcionamiento del cerebro desde una perspectiva multidisciplinar [Doctoral thesis, University of the Basque Country - Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea]. ADDI Repository. http://hdl.handle.net/10810/62701

Mallo, B. (2025). Arte y biología: Una aproximación neurofilosófica al origen de la experiencia estética. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0E8Y5WZMK

Mallo, B. (2025). Art and biology: A neurophilosophical approach to the origin of aesthetic experience. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0E8Y6C2XN

Mallo, B. (2026a). De la filosofía quirúrgica a la ley de coherencia biológica S/Y/C: Hacia una investigación sobre el origen del arte en la especie Homo. https://isbn.bibna.gub.uy/catalogo.php?mode=detalle&nt=57196

Mallo, B. (2026a). De la filosofía quirúrgica a la ley de coherencia biológica S/Y/C: Hacia una investigación sobre el origen del arte en la especie Homo [Kindle edition]. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GYGTJD5C

Mallo, B. (2026b). From surgical philosophy to the law of biological coherence S/Y/C: Toward a study of the origin of art in the Homo lineage. https://isbn.bibna.gub.uy/catalogo.php?mode=detalle&nt=57197

Mordo, C. (2000). El cesto y el arco. Metáforas de la estética Mbyá-Guaraní (Biblioteca Paraguaya de Antropología). Centro de Estudios Antropológicos, Universidad Católica. https://www.portalguarani.com/detalles_museos_otras_obras.php?PqwoiflUYTeslk=MzY1Mg==


Autor / Author


Bernabé Mallo
 Doctor en Filosofía – Universidad del País Vasco / Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea (UPV/EHU)
 Investigador independiente en neurofilosofía, evolución humana y origen del arte.
 

Bernabé Mallo
 PhD in Philosophy – University of the Basque Country / Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea (UPV/EHU)
 Independent researcher in neurophilosophy, human evolution, and the origin of art.

Enlaces / Links


Página de autor Amazon / Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/bernabemallo
ORCID: https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9002-9728
Plataforma EHUenRed / Link EHUenRed:  https://www.ehu.eus/es/web/masterrak-eta-graduondokoak/red-latinoamericana-de-posgrados
Canal YouTube / Channel YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@neuroideas815
Canal YouTube / Channel YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCBsf6OZ482NjST6QA-hvYtQ
Publicaciones y proyectos en desarrollo / Publications and projects: 
https://www.amazon.com/author/bernabemallo
https://ehuenred.theglocal.network/ideas/el-origen-del-arte-en-el-cerebro-de-makapansgat-al-moma-del-primate-al-sapiens

 


 

El cesto y el arco: la estética Mbyá-Guaraní como equilibrio entre la memoria y el deseo

 

Bernabé Mallo

Doctor en Filosofía por la Universidad del País Vasco (UPV/EHU)
Investigador en neurofilosofía, evolución humana y origen del arte. / PhD in Philosophy – University of the Basque Country (UPV/EHU)
Researcher in neurophilosophy, human evolution, and the origins of art.

 

Una reseña del libro de Carlos Mordo (2000): El cesto y el arco. Metáforas de la estética Mbyá-Guaraní


Introducción: una metáfora que lo dice todo

Hay libros que se leen con la cabeza y otros que se leen con el cuerpo. El cesto y el arco, del antropólogo argentino Carlos Mordo, pertenece a esta segunda categoría. Publicado en 2000 por el Centro de Estudios Antropológicos de la Universidad Católica (CEADUC) de Asunción, dentro de la Biblioteca Paraguaya de Antropología, y prologado por el crítico y curador Ticio Escobar, este estudio sobre la estética del pueblo Mbyá-Guaraní no se limita a describir objetos: propone una forma de mirar que transforma nuestra comprensión de lo que significa crear.

Mordo falleció antes de ver publicado este libro, que quedó como su testamento intelectual. En sus páginas, el autor despliega un trabajo etnohistórico riguroso, basado en entrevistas con caciques, líderes religiosos y artesanos, y en un seguimiento minucioso de los objetos, los ritos y las costumbres del pueblo Mbyá. Pero lo que hace de este libro una contribución singular no es solo su erudición, sino la metáfora central que lo organiza: la oposición entre el cesto y el arco, entre el equilibrio y la tensión, entre la armonía de la forma propia y el impulso hacia el mundo exterior.

Esta metáfora no es un adorno literario. Es una herramienta analítica que permite a Mordo articular una matriz de complejos entrecruzamientos entre los momentos que, por un lado, custodian la memoria y, por otro, proyectan las aspiraciones de la comunidad. Como señala el propio autor, de las posibilidades que tenga el pueblo Mbyá de enfrentar los desafíos impuestos —sin soltar el hilo de la memoria ni abandonar el rumbo de los deseos propios— dependerá que se mantenga abierta la promesa de un espacio dispuesto para la plenitud de la condición humana.


El cesto y el arco: dos gestos, dos mundos

Para comprender la potencia de esta metáfora, hay que detenerse en los dos objetos que la encarnan.

El cesto es el objeto del equilibrio. Su forma cerrada, su tejido intrincado, su simetría. El cesto contiene, guarda, protege. Es el gesto de la memoria: lo que se conserva, lo que se transmite, lo que se custodia. En la cultura Mbyá, el cesto es un objeto doméstico, pero también un símbolo cosmológico: su tejido reproduce las tramas del universo, sus diseños remiten al mundo animal y vegetal, su estructura encarna el orden que da sentido al caos.

El arco es el objeto de la tensión. Su forma abierta, su curva tensada, su disposición hacia el exterior. El arco proyecta, lanza, alcanza. Es el gesto del deseo: lo que se busca, lo que se persigue, lo que se conquista. En la cultura Mbyá, el arco es un instrumento de caza, pero también un símbolo de la agencia que transforma el mundo. El arco es el gesto que sale de sí mismo, que se aventura en lo desconocido, que busca lo que aún no tiene.

La oposición entre el cesto y el arco no es una oposición entre lo bueno y lo malo, entre lo propio y lo ajeno. Es una tensión productiva: el equilibrio del cesto y la tensión del arco se necesitan mutuamente. Sin la memoria del cesto, el arco sería un gesto sin raíz, una violencia sin sentido. Sin la tensión del arco, el cesto sería una forma cerrada sobre sí misma, una memoria sin porvenir. La estética Mbyá, en la lectura de Mordo, es precisamente la articulación de estos dos gestos: la forma que se cierra para conservar y la forma que se abre para proyectar.


La iconografía del cesto: un bestiario tejido

Uno de los aspectos más fascinantes del libro de Mordo es su análisis de la iconografía de la cestería Mbyá. Los diseños que decoran los cestos no son arbitrarios. Son metáforas visuales del entorno, del mundo vegetal y animal que rodea a la comunidad.

Los cesteros Mbyá, señala Mordo, eran observadores minuciosos de la naturaleza. Los patrones que tejían remitían a las pieles de las serpientes que habitaban la zona, a los dibujos de las mariposas que aparecían al comienzo de la primavera, a las escamas de los peces, al caparazón del armadillo. Cada diseño tenía un nombre: las franjas ornamentales de la mariposa se llamaban popo para; las de la yarará, rychy para; las de la serpiente coral, mbo'idayry para.

Estos diseños, compuestos por figuras geométricas —zigzags, rombos, triángulos, figuras de damero— se hacían visibles gracias al juego bicromo que se generaba al utilizar tramas y urdimbres de diferentes colores. El cestero jugaba con la cantidad de hilos tomados y dejados en el tejido, generando figuras entre los hilos visibles y escondidos de la trama y la urdimbre.

Lo que emerge de este análisis es una concepción del arte radicalmente distinta de la occidental. El cesto Mbyá no es una obra de arte en el sentido moderno del término. No hay un "artista" individual que firme su creación, no hay una "obra" que se contemple en un museo, no hay una "estética" que se separe de la vida cotidiana. El cesto es un objeto de uso, un utensilio doméstico, un recipiente para transportar y almacenar. Pero es también —y al mismo tiempo— un símbolo cosmológico, una metáfora del mundo, un dispositivo de memoria.

Como señala Mordo, en el intrincado diseño de los canastos abundan las referencias metafóricas al reino animal, que asoman en las superficies densamente cuadriculadas o manchadas, en las franjas superpuestas, en las figuras sugeridas, tramando patrones entrecruzados que permiten imaginar los trazos sintetizados de un mundo en movimiento. El cesto no representa el mundo; es el mundo, en su forma tejida.


La tensión entre el uso doméstico y el mercado

Uno de los aspectos más agudos del análisis de Mordo es su tratamiento de la relación entre el arte indígena artesanal dedicado a la venta y el de uso doméstico. Esta tensión es, en el fondo, la misma que la del cesto y el arco: la tensión entre la memoria (el objeto que se conserva para uso propio) y el deseo (el objeto que se produce para el mercado, para el otro, para lo exterior).

La producción artesanal Mbyá, señala Mordo, se desarrolló a lo largo de las últimas décadas para añadirse a los medios de subsistencia. Los cestos que antes se tejían para el uso doméstico comenzaron a tejerse también para la venta. Esta transformación tiene consecuencias profundas: los diseños que antes tenían un significado cosmológico se van vaciando parcialmente de contenido; los motivos que antes remitían a un mundo simbólico compartido se copian de otras tradiciones; el cestero que antes tejía para su comunidad teje ahora para un comprador anónimo que no comparte su universo de significados.

Mordo no condena esta transformación ni la celebra ingenuamente. La describe como una tensión que el pueblo Mbyá debe navegar: la tensión entre la fidelidad a la memoria propia y la apertura a las demandas del mundo exterior. La pregunta que late en todo el libro es: ¿cómo mantener vivo el hilo de la memoria sin renunciar al diálogo con el otro? ¿Cómo conservar la forma propia sin cerrarse a las posibilidades del mundo?


Conexión con la investigación sobre el origen del arte (S/Y/C)

El análisis de Mordo ofrece un caso concreto donde se puede observar el funcionamiento de la Ley de coherencia biológica S/Y/C que constituye el núcleo de nuestra investigación (Mallo, 2023, 2025, 2026a, 2026b). La estética Mbyá, tal como la describe Mordo, es un despliegue ejemplar de las tres dimensiones de nuestra tesis.

La dimensión S (Supervivencia) se manifiesta en la función adaptativa de la cestería. Los cestos Mbyá no son objetos decorativos; son herramientas de supervivencia. Se usan para transportar alimentos, para almacenar semillas, para recoger frutos. Su producción, además, se ha convertido en una estrategia económica que complementa los medios de subsistencia tradicionales. La estética Mbyá no es un lujo; está enraizada en la necesidad.

La dimensión Y (Symbolon) es el corazón del análisis de Mordo. Los diseños de los cestos son symbolon en el sentido más pleno del término: actos de reconocimiento mediante códigos compartidos. Los patrones que remiten a la piel de la serpiente, a las alas de la mariposa, al caparazón del armadillo no son meras representaciones; son formas de reconocer el mundo, de nombrarlo, de inscribirlo en el tejido. El cestero que teje un jegua mboi ("adorno de la víbora") no está copiando una serpiente; está actualizando una relación ancestral con el mundo animal, un vínculo que se remonta a los orígenes míticos.

La dimensión C (Completitud) se manifiesta en la búsqueda de equilibrio que caracteriza a la estética Mbyá. El cesto, con su forma cerrada y simétrica, es una imagen de la completitud: la forma que se cierra sobre sí misma, que alcanza su plenitud en la clausura. Pero esa completitud no es estática; es el resultado de una tensión dinámica entre el equilibrio del cesto y la tensión del arco. La belleza del cesto no reside en su forma acabada, sino en el proceso que la produce: el tejido como gesto repetido, como memoria encarnada, como aspiración a la totalidad.

La Filosofía Quirúrgica nos invita a aplicar un corte analítico preciso al libro de Mordo. No se trata de idealizar la estética Mbyá como una forma "pura" de arte, ni de reducirla a una mera producción artesanal para el mercado. Se trata de reconocer que la tensión entre el cesto y el arco —entre la memoria y el deseo, entre lo propio y lo ajeno, entre la tradición y el mercado— es constitutiva de toda creación humana. No hay arte sin tensión; no hay belleza sin equilibrio; no hay memoria sin proyecto. La Filosofía Quirúrgica nos permite distinguir estos niveles y comprender cómo se articulan en la práctica concreta de los cesteros Mbyá.


Tensiones abiertas: lo que el libro deja sin resolver

El libro de Mordo no es un tratado cerrado, sino una invitación a seguir pensando. Su análisis de la estética Mbyá abre varias preguntas que quedan sin respuesta definitiva, y que constituyen, precisamente, su mayor riqueza.

La primera es la relación entre el significado y la forma. Mordo describe con detalle los patrones de la cestería y sus nombres, pero no siempre logra reconstruir el contenido mitológico que esos nombres evocan. ¿Qué significaba exactamente para un cestero Mbyá tejer un popo para? ¿Qué relación tenía ese diseño con la mariposa, con su ciclo de vida, con su aparición estacional? El libro ofrece pistas, pero no una respuesta completa. Esa laguna no es un defecto de Mordo, sino un reflejo de la dificultad de acceder a un universo simbólico que se ha transmitido, en gran medida, por vía oral y que se ha transformado con el contacto con el mundo no indígena.

La segunda es la relación entre tradición e innovación. Los cesteros Mbyá no repiten mecánicamente los diseños heredados; los transforman, los combinan, los adaptan a nuevos contextos. ¿Cómo distinguir, en esa transformación, lo que es fidelidad a la memoria de lo que es respuesta a la demanda del mercado? ¿Dónde termina la tradición y dónde empieza la invención? Mordo no ofrece una respuesta unívoca, y quizás no la haya. La tensión entre el cesto y el arco es, en el fondo, irreducible.

La tercera es la relación entre el arte y la vida. La estética Mbyá, tal como la describe Mordo, no separa el arte de la existencia cotidiana. El cesto es un objeto de uso y una obra de belleza al mismo tiempo. ¿Qué implica esta indistinción para nuestra comprensión del arte? ¿Nos obliga a repensar las categorías heredadas de la estética occidental? ¿O nos invita, más bien, a reconocer que esas categorías siempre fueron parciales, situadas, históricas?

Estas preguntas no tienen respuesta fácil, y Mordo no pretende dárselas. Su libro es, en este sentido, un ejercicio de humildad intelectual: la constatación de que la belleza de una cultura no se agota en su análisis, y de que toda interpretación es, en el fondo, una forma de diálogo con lo que se resiste a ser completamente comprendido.


Consideraciones finales: el tejido como forma de vida

El libro de Carlos Mordo nos recuerda algo fundamental sobre el arte: no hay creación sin tensión. La belleza del cesto Mbyá no es una belleza estática, sino una belleza que emerge del equilibrio inestable entre fuerzas opuestas. El cesto que se cierra y el arco que se abre; la memoria que conserva y el deseo que proyecta; la tradición que ancla y el mercado que atrae. Estos opuestos no se resuelven en una síntesis, sino que se mantienen en tensión productiva.

Para nuestra investigación sobre el origen del arte, la estética Mbyá ofrece una lección valiosa. El arte, en su origen, no fue una actividad separada de la vida, no fue un lujo de especialistas, no fue una contemplación desinteresada. Fue —y sigue siendo— una forma de habitar el mundo, de tejerlo, de nombrarlo, de conservarlo y de proyectarlo. El cesto Mbyá no es una obra de arte porque esté en un museo; es una obra de arte porque hace mundo. Porque en su trama se entrecruzan la memoria de los antepasados y la aspiración de los vivos; porque en su forma se condensa todo un modo de estar en el cosmos.

Mordo nos enseñó a mirar el cesto y el arco como metáforas de la existencia. Nosotros añadimos: el arte es, en su raíz, la forma de esa tensión. Sin el cesto, no habría memoria; sin el arco, no habría deseo. Y sin ambos, no habría arte.


Referencias bibliográficas

Mallo, B. (2023). La construcción neuro-simbólica. Una aproximación al funcionamiento del cerebro desde una perspectiva multidisciplinar [Tesis doctoral, Universidad del País Vasco - Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea]. Repositorio ADDI. http://hdl.handle.net/10810/62701

Mallo, B. (2025). Arte y biología: Una aproximación neurofilosófica al origen de la experiencia estética. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0E8Y5WZMK

Mallo, B. (2025). Art and biology: A neurophilosophical approach to the origin of aesthetic experience. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0E8Y6C2XN

Mallo, B. (2026a). De la filosofía quirúrgica a la ley de coherencia biológica S/Y/C: Hacia una investigación sobre el origen del arte en la especie Homo. https://isbn.bibna.gub.uy/catalogo.php?mode=detalle&nt=57196

Mallo, B. (2026a). De la filosofía quirúrgica a la ley de coherencia biológica S/Y/C: Hacia una investigación sobre el origen del arte en la especie Homo [Versión Kindle]. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GYGTJD5C

Mallo, B. (2026b). From surgical philosophy to the law of biological coherence S/Y/C: Toward a study of the origin of art in the Homo lineage. https://isbn.bibna.gub.uy/catalogo.php?mode=detalle&nt=57197

Mordo, C. (2000). El cesto y el arco. Metáforas de la estética Mbyá-Guaraní (Biblioteca Paraguaya de Antropología). Centro de Estudios Antropológicos, Universidad Católica. https://www.portalguarani.com/detalles_museos_otras_obras.php?PqwoiflUYTeslk=MzY1Mg==


Autor / Author


Bernabé Mallo
 Doctor en Filosofía – Universidad del País Vasco / Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea (UPV/EHU)
 Investigador independiente en neurofilosofía, evolución humana y origen del arte.
 

Bernabé Mallo
 PhD in Philosophy – University of the Basque Country / Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea (UPV/EHU)
 Independent researcher in neurophilosophy, human evolution, and the origin of art.

Enlaces / Links


Página de autor Amazon / Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/bernabemallo
ORCID: https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9002-9728
Plataforma EHUenRed / Link EHUenRed:  https://www.ehu.eus/es/web/masterrak-eta-graduondokoak/red-latinoamericana-de-posgrados
Canal YouTube / Channel YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@neuroideas815
Canal YouTube / Channel YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCBsf6OZ482NjST6QA-hvYtQ
Publicaciones y proyectos en desarrollo / Publications and projects: 
https://www.amazon.com/author/bernabemallo
https://ehuenred.theglocal.network/ideas/el-origen-del-arte-en-el-cerebro-de-makapansgat-al-moma-del-primate-al-sapiens



 

sábado, 17 de octubre de 2026

The Art of Seeing Like Others: Amerindian Perspectivism and the Limits of Our Gaze

 

Bernabé Mallo

Doctor en Filosofía por la Universidad del País Vasco (UPV/EHU)
Investigador en neurofilosofía, evolución humana y origen del arte. / PhD in Philosophy – University of the Basque Country (UPV/EHU)
Researcher in neurophilosophy, human evolution, and the origins of art.

 

A review of "Cosmological Deixis and Amerindian Perspectivism" by Eduardo Viveiros de Castro (1998)


Introduction: when the jaguar sees us as prey

Let us imagine for a moment that we are jaguars. Not that we think like jaguars, but that we are jaguars. In that case, according to what the Amerindian peoples of the Amazon tell us, we would see humans as we see game animals: as prey. The blood of a human would be, for the jaguar, what fermented cassava is for us: an everyday food, a sustenance. And most unsettling of all: the jaguar would see us as we see monkeys or tapirs.

This inversion of perspectives is not a literary fantasy. It is the basis of one of the most radical contributions to contemporary anthropology: Amerindian perspectivism, formulated by the Brazilian anthropologist Eduardo Viveiros de Castro in an article published in 1998 in the Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute under the title "Cosmological Deixis and Amerindian Perspectivism". Viveiros de Castro's proposal not only transformed our understanding of Indigenous cosmologies; it also raises profound questions about the nature of representation, agency, and the relationship between humans and non-humans.

In this review we explore the central ideas of perspectivism, its implications for a theory of art and representation, and its connection with our research on the origin of art and the S/Y/C model.


Multinaturalism: the concept that inverts multiculturalism

Viveiros de Castro's starting point is a seemingly simple distinction with radical consequences. In the modern Western tradition, we usually speak of multiculturalism: a single nature (physical reality, governed by universal laws) and multiple cultures (the different ways of interpreting it, of giving it meaning). Diversity lies in representations, not in what is represented.

Amerindian perspectivism inverts this relationship. Viveiros de Castro proposes the concept of multinaturalism: a single culture (or, more precisely, a single way of being a subject, of having intentionality and agency) and multiple natures. The different beings —humans, jaguars, spirits, plants— share the same condition of subjects, but inhabit different worlds. What changes is not the interpretation of a single reality, but reality itself.

"Amerindian perspectivism", writes Viveiros de Castro, "is not a cultural relativism, but a multinaturalism". It is not that each culture sees the same thing differently; it is that each species is a different world. Jaguars are persons, but their world is the world of jaguars, where humans are prey. Spirits are persons, but their world is the world of spirits, where illness and death have other meanings.

This inversion has profound consequences. The body, in perspectivism, is not a mere biological envelope, but a set of affects, capacities, and habits that define the perspective of each being. We do not see the world "from outside", as if we were neutral observers; we see it "from within" our body, with its appetites, its fears, its desires. The jaguar sees the world from its jaguar body; the human, from their human body.


Cosmological deixis: how one speaks from a perspective

The concept of cosmological deixis, which gives the article its title, is the conceptual tool Viveiros de Castro uses to analyse how these perspectives are articulated. Deixis, in linguistics, is the set of resources that allow an utterance to be situated in relation to the speaker: "I", "here", "now". In Amerindian perspectivism, deixis becomes a cosmological device: the "I" is not a fixed position, but a relational position that changes according to species and context.

Amerindian myths are full of cosmological deictics: expressions such as "in that time", "our ancestors", "the first ones". But these expressions do not point to a chronological past; they point to a space of transformation, a "time of myth" in which the current distinctions between species did not yet exist. In myth, animals are persons, humans can transform into jaguars, spirits converse with the living. Myth is the space where perspectives communicate, where deixis becomes fluid.

This fluidity has a crucial consequence for understanding Amerindian art. Visual representations —body paintings, geometric designs, animal figures— are not mere illustrations of reality. They are indexes of perspectives: ways of showing how another being sees the world. A design representing a jaguar is not a copy of a jaguar; it is a translation of the jaguar's gaze, a way of making its perspective visible.


Shamanism as cosmopolitical diplomacy

If perspectivism is the deep structure of Amerindian cosmologies, shamanism is its concrete practice. The shaman is the one who can traverse perspectives: they are capable of adopting the point of view of jaguars, spirits, the dead. Not in a metaphorical sense, but in a practical sense: the shaman sees the world as non-humans see it, and from that vision acts upon the world.

Shamanism, in Viveiros de Castro's reading, is a cosmopolitical diplomacy: a negotiation with the other beings of the cosmos. Shamans do not "believe" in spirits; they deal with them. They see them, speak with them, negotiate with them. Shamanism is not a religious belief, but a practice of translation between worlds.

This idea has a profound resonance with our research on the origin of art. Shamanism, like art, is a way of making the invisible visible, of mediating between worlds, of translating perspectives. The Palaeolithic artists who painted animals in the depths of caves were not simply representing the fauna of their environment; they were, perhaps, trying to capture something of the agency of those animals, of their perspective, of their power.


Connection with research on the origin of art (S/Y/C)

Amerindian perspectivism offers a conceptual framework that illuminates crucial aspects of the Law of Biological Coherence S/Y/C that forms the core of our research (Mallo, 2023, 2025, 2026a, 2026b). Its concepts of multinaturalism, cosmological deixis, and shamanism allow us to reread prehistoric art not as a system of symbolic meanings, but as a device of access to other perspectives.

The S (Survival) dimension manifests in the practical function of shamanism and perspectivist art. The shaman is not a contemplative; they are a survival operator: they negotiate with jaguars so they do not attack the herd, with spirits so they do not cause illness, with the dead so they do not disturb the living. Art, in the perspectivist context, has a similar function: it is not an ornament, but a tool for controlling the world. Body paintings do not merely beautify; they protect, transform, bind. Geometric designs do not merely decorate; they communicate, orient, protect.

The Y (Symbolon) dimension is illuminated by the concept of cosmological deixis. Symbolon, in our thesis, is the act of recognition through shared codes. In Amerindian perspectivism, symbolon is multinatural: there is no single shared code, but codes that change according to perspective. The jaguar recognises the human as prey; the human recognises the jaguar as predator. Both recognise, but from different codes. Perspectivist art does not seek a univocal representation, but a translation between codes. Amerindian geometric designs, for example, do not represent animals realistically; they represent the relations between humans and animals, the perspectives that bind them.

The C (Wholeness) dimension manifests in the search for cosmological integration that characterises shamanism. The shaman does not only see multiple perspectives; they integrate them into a coherent vision of the cosmos. Myth is not a collection of disconnected stories; it is a system that gives meaning to the relations between species, to transformations, to cycles. This integration is a form of wholeness: the cosmos is understood as an interconnected whole, where each perspective has its place.

Surgical Philosophy invites us to make a precise analytical cut in Amerindian perspectivism. It is not about accepting Indigenous cosmology without more, but about recognising that its logical structure —the inversion between multiculturalism and multinaturalism— forces us to rethink our own categories. Surgical Philosophy allows us to distinguish levels: the level of ethnographic experience (what Amerindian peoples say and do), the level of anthropological theory (what Viveiros de Castro elaborates from that experience), and the level of comparative philosophy (what we can learn from this comparison to think about universal problems of representation, agency, and otherness).


Critique and reception

Amerindian perspectivism has generated intense debate in contemporary anthropology. Its critics, such as Terence Turner, argue that Viveiros de Castro generalises too much from a limited set of Amazonian ethnic groups, and that his model risks becoming a new orthodoxy that homogenises the diversity of Indigenous cosmologies. Others, such as Marshall Sahlins, have noted that perspectivism underestimates the historical diversity of Amazonian societies and their capacity for transformation.

On the other hand, perspectivism has been enormously influential in fields as diverse as archaeology, science and technology studies, environmental philosophy, and posthumanist studies. It has inspired new research on relational ontologies, multispecies approaches, and political ecology. And it has built bridges between anthropology and philosophy, particularly with the works of Gilles Deleuze and Bruno Latour.


Final considerations: art as diplomacy of perspectives

Viveiros de Castro's article is one of those rare contributions that transform a discipline by changing the fundamental questions. His proposal to take Amerindian cosmologies seriously —not as exotic beliefs, but as rigorous theories about the nature of reality, agency, and representation— forces us to rethink our own categories.

For our research on the origin of art, perspectivism offers a valuable complement to the neuroscientific and philosophical perspectives we have explored. Art, in its origin, was not only a symbolic expression or an aesthetic response; it was also —and perhaps above all— a tool of access to other perspectives. Cave paintings, body ornaments, ivory figurines: all of them were indexes of a gaze that sought to capture the agency of non-humans, of spirits, of the dead.

But art is not only perspectivism. It is also encounter. The cosmological deixis that Viveiros de Castro describes is an act of translation: the shaman translates the jaguar's perspective for humans. Art, in its origin, was a diplomacy of perspectives: a way of negotiating with the other, of making the invisible visible, of translating the untranslatable. And in that diplomacy, art fulfils its deepest function: that of connecting worlds that would otherwise remain separate.

Viveiros de Castro taught us to see the world as a multiplicity of perspectives. We add: art is the device that makes that multiplicity possible. Without art, there would be no translation; without translation, there would be no encounter; without encounter, the cosmos would be a monologue. Art is, at its root, the dialogue of species.


References

Mallo, B. (2023). La construcción neuro-simbólica. Una aproximación al funcionamiento del cerebro desde una perspectiva multidisciplinar [Doctoral thesis, University of the Basque Country - Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea]. ADDI Repository. http://hdl.handle.net/10810/62701

Mallo, B. (2025). Arte y biología: Una aproximación neurofilosófica al origen de la experiencia estética. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0E8Y5WZMK

Mallo, B. (2025). Art and biology: A neurophilosophical approach to the origin of aesthetic experience. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0E8Y6C2XN

Mallo, B. (2026a). De la filosofía quirúrgica a la ley de coherencia biológica S/Y/C: Hacia una investigación sobre el origen del arte en la especie Homo. https://isbn.bibna.gub.uy/catalogo.php?mode=detalle&nt=57196

Mallo, B. (2026a). De la filosofía quirúrgica a la ley de coherencia biológica S/Y/C: Hacia una investigación sobre el origen del arte en la especie Homo [Kindle edition]. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GYGTJD5C

Mallo, B. (2026b). From surgical philosophy to the law of biological coherence S/Y/C: Toward a study of the origin of art in the Homo lineage. https://isbn.bibna.gub.uy/catalogo.php?mode=detalle&nt=57197

Viveiros de Castro, E. (1998). Cosmological deixis and Amerindian perspectivism. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, *4*(3), 469–488. https://doi.org/10.2307/3034157


Autor / Author


Bernabé Mallo
 Doctor en Filosofía – Universidad del País Vasco / Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea (UPV/EHU)
 Investigador independiente en neurofilosofía, evolución humana y origen del arte.
 

Bernabé Mallo
 PhD in Philosophy – University of the Basque Country / Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea (UPV/EHU)
 Independent researcher in neurophilosophy, human evolution, and the origin of art.

Enlaces / Links


Página de autor Amazon / Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/bernabemallo
ORCID: https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9002-9728
Plataforma EHUenRed / Link EHUenRed:  https://www.ehu.eus/es/web/masterrak-eta-graduondokoak/red-latinoamericana-de-posgrados
Canal YouTube / Channel YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@neuroideas815
Canal YouTube / Channel YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCBsf6OZ482NjST6QA-hvYtQ
Publicaciones y proyectos en desarrollo / Publications and projects: 
https://www.amazon.com/author/bernabemallo
https://ehuenred.theglocal.network/ideas/el-origen-del-arte-en-el-cerebro-de-makapansgat-al-moma-del-primate-al-sapiens

 


 

El arte de ver como otros: perspectivismo amerindio y los límites de nuestra mirada

 

Bernabé Mallo

Doctor en Filosofía por la Universidad del País Vasco (UPV/EHU)
Investigador en neurofilosofía, evolución humana y origen del arte. / PhD in Philosophy – University of the Basque Country (UPV/EHU)
Researcher in neurophilosophy, human evolution, and the origins of art.

 

Una reseña de "Cosmological Deixis and Amerindian Perspectivism" de Eduardo Viveiros de Castro (1998)


Introducción: cuando el jaguar nos ve como presa

Imaginemos por un momento que somos jaguares. No que pensamos como jaguares, sino que somos jaguares. En ese caso, según nos cuentan los pueblos amerindios de la Amazonía, veríamos a los humanos como nosotros vemos a los animales de caza: como presas. La sangre de un humano sería, para el jaguar, lo que la yuca fermentada es para nosotros: un alimento cotidiano, un sustento. Y lo más inquietante: el jaguar nos vería a nosotros como nosotros vemos a los monos o a los tapires.

Esta inversión de perspectivas no es una fantasía literaria. Es la base de una de las contribuciones más radicales a la antropología contemporánea: el perspectivismo amerindio, formulado por el antropólogo brasileño Eduardo Viveiros de Castro en un artículo publicado en 1998 en el Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute bajo el título "Cosmological Deixis and Amerindian Perspectivism". La propuesta de Viveiros de Castro no solo transformó nuestra comprensión de las cosmologías indígenas; también plantea preguntas profundas sobre la naturaleza de la representación, la agencia y la relación entre humanos y no-humanos.

En esta reseña exploramos las ideas centrales del perspectivismo, sus implicaciones para una teoría del arte y la representación, y su conexión con nuestra investigación sobre el origen del arte y el modelo S/Y/C.


Multinaturalismo: el concepto que invierte el multiculturalismo

El punto de partida de Viveiros de Castro es una distinción aparentemente simple pero de consecuencias radicales. En la tradición occidental moderna, solemos hablar de multiculturalismo: una única naturaleza (la realidad física, regida por leyes universales) y múltiples culturas (las distintas formas de interpretarla, de darle significado). La diversidad está en las representaciones, no en lo representado.

El perspectivismo amerindio invierte esta relación. Viveiros de Castro propone el concepto de multinaturalismo: una única cultura (o, más precisamente, una única forma de ser sujeto, de tener intencionalidad y agencia) y múltiples naturalezas. Los distintos seres —humanos, jaguares, espíritus, plantas— comparten la misma condición de sujetos, pero habitan mundos distintos. Lo que cambia no es la interpretación de una realidad única, sino la realidad misma.

"El perspectivismo amerindio", escribe Viveiros de Castro, "no es un relativismo cultural, sino un multinaturalismo". No se trata de que cada cultura vea la misma cosa de manera diferente; se trata de que cada especie es un mundo diferente. Los jaguares son personas, pero su mundo es el mundo de los jaguares, donde los humanos son presas. Los espíritus son personas, pero su mundo es el mundo de los espíritus, donde la enfermedad y la muerte tienen otros significados.

Esta inversión tiene consecuencias profundas. El cuerpo, en el perspectivismo, no es una mera envoltura biológica, sino un conjunto de afectos, capacidades y hábitos que definen la perspectiva de cada ser. No vemos el mundo "desde fuera", como si fuéramos observadores neutrales; lo vemos "desde dentro" de nuestro cuerpo, con sus apetitos, sus miedos, sus deseos. El jaguar ve el mundo desde su cuerpo de jaguar; el humano, desde su cuerpo de humano.


La deixis cosmológica: cómo se habla desde una perspectiva

El concepto de deixis cosmológica, que da título al artículo, es la herramienta conceptual que Viveiros de Castro utiliza para analizar cómo se articulan estas perspectivas. La deixis, en lingüística, es el conjunto de recursos que permiten situar un enunciado en relación con el hablante: "yo", "aquí", "ahora". En el perspectivismo amerindio, la deixis se convierte en un dispositivo cosmológico: el "yo" no es una posición fija, sino una posición relacional que cambia según la especie y el contexto.

Los mitos amerindios están llenos de deícticos cosmológicos: expresiones como "en aquel tiempo", "nuestros antepasados", "los primeros". Pero estas expresiones no señalan un pasado cronológico; señalan un espacio de transformación, un "tiempo del mito" en el que las distinciones actuales entre especies no existían todavía. En el mito, los animales son personas, los humanos pueden transformarse en jaguares, los espíritus conversan con los vivos. El mito es el espacio donde las perspectivas se comunican, donde la deixis se vuelve fluida.

Esta fluidez tiene una consecuencia crucial para comprender el arte amerindio. Las representaciones visuales —pinturas corporales, diseños geométricos, figuras animales— no son meras ilustraciones de la realidad. Son índices de perspectivas: formas de mostrar cómo otro ser ve el mundo. Un diseño que representa un jaguar no es una copia de un jaguar; es una traducción de la mirada del jaguar, una forma de hacer visible su perspectiva.


El chamanismo como diplomacia cosmopolítica

Si el perspectivismo es la estructura profunda de las cosmologías amerindias, el chamanismo es su práctica concreta. El chamán es aquel que puede atravesar las perspectivas: es capaz de adoptar el punto de vista de los jaguares, de los espíritus, de los muertos. No en un sentido metafórico, sino en un sentido práctico: el chamán ve el mundo como lo ven los no-humanos, y desde esa visión actúa sobre el mundo.

El chamanismo, en la lectura de Viveiros de Castro, es una diplomacia cosmopolítica: una negociación con los otros seres del cosmos. Los chamanes no "creen" en los espíritus; tratan con ellos. Los ven, hablan con ellos, negocian con ellos. El chamanismo no es una creencia religiosa, sino una práctica de traducción entre mundos.

Esta idea tiene una resonancia profunda con nuestra investigación sobre el origen del arte. El chamanismo, como el arte, es una forma de hacer visible lo invisible, de mediar entre mundos, de traducir perspectivas. Los artistas paleolíticos que pintaban animales en las profundidades de las cuevas no estaban simplemente representando la fauna de su entorno; estaban, quizás, tratando de capturar algo de la agencia de esos animales, de su perspectiva, de su poder.


Conexión con la investigación sobre el origen del arte (S/Y/C)

El perspectivismo amerindio ofrece un marco conceptual que ilumina aspectos cruciales de la Ley de coherencia biológica S/Y/C que constituye el núcleo de nuestra investigación (Mallo, 2023, 2025, 2026a, 2026b). Sus conceptos de multinaturalismo, deixis cosmológica y chamanismo permiten releer el arte prehistórico no como un sistema de significados simbólicos, sino como un dispositivo de acceso a otras perspectivas.

La dimensión S (Supervivencia) se manifiesta en la función práctica del chamanismo y del arte perspectivista. El chamán no es un contemplativo; es un operador de supervivencia: negocia con los jaguares para que no ataquen al ganado, con los espíritus para que no causen enfermedades, con los muertos para que no perturben a los vivos. El arte, en el contexto perspectivista, tiene una función similar: no es un adorno, sino una herramienta de control del mundo. Las pinturas corporales no solo embellecen; protegen, transforman, vinculan. Los diseños geométricos no solo decoran; comunican, orientan, protegen.

La dimensión Y (Symbolon) se ilumina con el concepto de deixis cosmológica. El symbolon, en nuestra tesis, es el acto de reconocimiento mediante códigos compartidos. En el perspectivismo amerindio, el symbolon es multinatural: no hay un único código compartido, sino códigos que cambian según la perspectiva. El jaguar reconoce al humano como presa; el humano reconoce al jaguar como depredador. Ambos reconocen, pero desde códigos distintos. El arte perspectivista no busca una representación unívoca, sino una traducción entre códigos. Los diseños geométricos amerindios, por ejemplo, no representan animales de manera realista; representan las relaciones entre humanos y animales, las perspectivas que los vinculan.

La dimensión C (Completitud) se manifiesta en la búsqueda de integración cosmológica que caracteriza al chamanismo. El chamán no solo ve múltiples perspectivas; las integra en una visión coherente del cosmos. El mito no es una colección de historias inconexas; es un sistema que da sentido a las relaciones entre especies, a las transformaciones, a los ciclos. Esta integración es una forma de completitud: el cosmos se comprende como un todo interconectado, donde cada perspectiva tiene su lugar.

La Filosofía Quirúrgica nos invita a aplicar un corte analítico preciso al perspectivismo amerindio. No se trata de aceptar sin más la cosmología indígena, sino de reconocer que su estructura lógica —la inversión entre multiculturalismo y multinaturalismo— nos obliga a repensar nuestras propias categorías. La Filosofía Quirúrgica nos permite distinguir niveles: el nivel de la experiencia etnográfica (lo que los pueblos amerindios dicen y hacen), el nivel de la teoría antropológica (lo que Viveiros de Castro elabora a partir de esa experiencia), y el nivel de la filosofía comparada (lo que podemos aprender de esta comparación para pensar problemas universales sobre la representación, la agencia y la alteridad).


Crítica y recepción

El perspectivismo amerindio ha generado un intenso debate en la antropología contemporánea. Sus críticos, como Terence Turner, argumentan que Viveiros de Castro generaliza demasiado a partir de un conjunto limitado de etnias amazónicas, y que su modelo corre el riesgo de convertirse en una nueva ortodoxia que homogeneiza la diversidad de las cosmologías indígenas. Otros, como Marshall Sahlins, han señalado que el perspectivismo subestima la diversidad histórica de las sociedades amazónicas y su capacidad de transformación.

Por otro lado, el perspectivismo ha sido enormemente influyente en campos tan diversos como la arqueología, los estudios de ciencia y tecnología, la filosofía ambiental y los estudios posthumanistas. Ha inspirado nuevas investigaciones sobre ontologías relacionales, multiespecies y ecología política. Y ha tendido puentes entre la antropología y la filosofía, particularmente con las obras de Gilles Deleuze, o Bruno Latour.


Consideraciones finales: el arte como diplomacia de perspectivas

El artículo de Viveiros de Castro es una de esas contribuciones raras que transforman una disciplina al cambiar las preguntas fundamentales. Su propuesta de tomar en serio las cosmologías amerindias —no como creencias exóticas, sino como teorías rigurosas sobre la naturaleza de la realidad, la agencia y la representación— nos obliga a repensar nuestras propias categorías.

Para nuestra investigación sobre el origen del arte, el perspectivismo ofrece un complemento valioso a las perspectivas neurocientíficas y filosóficas que hemos explorado. El arte, en su origen, no fue solo una expresión simbólica o una respuesta estética; fue también —y quizás sobre todo— una herramienta de acceso a otras perspectivas. Las pinturas rupestres, los adornos corporales, las figurillas de marfil: todos ellos fueron índices de una mirada que buscaba capturar la agencia de los no-humanos, de los espíritus, de los muertos.

Pero el arte no es solo perspectivismo. Es también encuentro. La deixis cosmológica que Viveiros de Castro describe es un acto de traducción: el chamán traduce la perspectiva del jaguar para los humanos. El arte, en su origen, fue una diplomacia de perspectivas: una forma de negociar con lo otro, de hacer visible lo invisible, de traducir lo intraducible. Y en esa diplomacia, el arte cumple su función más profunda: la de conectar mundos que de otro modo permanecerían separados.

Viveiros de Castro nos enseñó a ver el mundo como una multiplicidad de perspectivas. Nosotros añadimos: el arte es el dispositivo que hace posible esa multiplicidad. Sin arte, no habría traducción; sin traducción, no habría encuentro; sin encuentro, el cosmos sería un monólogo. El arte es, en su raíz, el diálogo de las especies.


Referencias bibliográficas

López Mallo, J. B. (2023). La construcción neuro-simbólica. Una aproximación al funcionamiento del cerebro desde una perspectiva multidisciplinar [Tesis doctoral, Universidad del País Vasco - Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea]. Repositorio ADDI. http://hdl.handle.net/10810/62701

López Mallo, J. B. (2025). Arte y biología: Una aproximación neurofilosófica al origen de la experiencia estética. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0E8Y5WZMK

López Mallo, J. B. (2025). Art and biology: A neurophilosophical approach to the origin of aesthetic experience. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0E8Y6C2XN

López Mallo, J. B. (2026a). De la filosofía quirúrgica a la ley de coherencia biológica S/Y/C: Hacia una investigación sobre el origen del arte en la especie Homo. https://isbn.bibna.gub.uy/catalogo.php?mode=detalle&nt=57196

López Mallo, J. B. (2026a). De la filosofía quirúrgica a la ley de coherencia biológica S/Y/C: Hacia una investigación sobre el origen del arte en la especie Homo [Versión Kindle]. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GYGTJD5C

López Mallo, J. B. (2026b). From surgical philosophy to the law of biological coherence S/Y/C: Toward a study of the origin of art in the Homo lineage. https://isbn.bibna.gub.uy/catalogo.php?mode=detalle&nt=57197

Viveiros de Castro, E. (1998). Cosmological deixis and Amerindian perspectivism. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, *4*(3), 469–488. https://doi.org/10.2307/3034157


Autor / Author


Bernabé Mallo
 Doctor en Filosofía – Universidad del País Vasco / Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea (UPV/EHU)
 Investigador independiente en neurofilosofía, evolución humana y origen del arte.
 

Bernabé Mallo
 PhD in Philosophy – University of the Basque Country / Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea (UPV/EHU)
 Independent researcher in neurophilosophy, human evolution, and the origin of art.

Enlaces / Links


Página de autor Amazon / Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/bernabemallo
ORCID: https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9002-9728
Plataforma EHUenRed / Link EHUenRed:  https://www.ehu.eus/es/web/masterrak-eta-graduondokoak/red-latinoamericana-de-posgrados
Canal YouTube / Channel YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@neuroideas815
Canal YouTube / Channel YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCBsf6OZ482NjST6QA-hvYtQ
Publicaciones y proyectos en desarrollo / Publications and projects: 
https://www.amazon.com/author/bernabemallo
https://ehuenred.theglocal.network/ideas/el-origen-del-arte-en-el-cerebro-de-makapansgat-al-moma-del-primate-al-sapiens



 

martes, 13 de octubre de 2026

The Art That Teaches Itself: Methodologies of Autonomous Learning in Algorithmic Creation

 

Bernabé Mallo

Doctor en Filosofía por la Universidad del País Vasco (UPV/EHU)
Investigador en neurofilosofía, evolución humana y origen del arte. / PhD in Philosophy – University of the Basque Country (UPV/EHU)
Researcher in neurophilosophy, human evolution, and the origins of art.

 

A review of Qian Wang's study (2024) in ACM Transactions on Multimedia Computing, Communications, and Applications: Learning-based Artificial Intelligence Artwork: Methodology and Future Directions


Introduction: the machine that becomes its own teacher

How does a machine learn to create art? Not through explicit instructions, nor through rules programmed by a human. It learns by observing. It learns by analysing. It learns by competing with itself. The study by Qian Wang, published in 2024 in the ACM Transactions on Multimedia Computing, Communications, and Applications, offers an exhaustive technical breakdown of the architectures that make contemporary algorithmic art possible. It does not limit itself to describing what tools exist, but explains how they work internally, unravelling the logic that allows a neural network to generate an image that a human might mistake for a masterpiece.

The article begins with a fundamental distinction between two major paradigms of machine learning applied to art: supervised learning models, which require labelled datasets and external guidance, and autonomous learning models, which generate and evaluate their own creations without direct human intervention. Qian Wang focuses on this second paradigm, and does so with a clarity that turns a technical subject into a window onto profound questions about the nature of creativity, authorship, and aesthetic knowledge.


The dance of GANs: creator and critic in perpetual competition

The heart of contemporary algorithmic art beats in Generative Adversarial Networks (GANs), and Qian Wang devotes a substantial part of his analysis to explaining their internal functioning. The metaphor he uses is especially illuminating: it is a dynamic of "creator and critic".

Let us imagine two neural networks competing with each other. The first, the generator, tries to produce images that appear authentic. The second, the discriminator, tries to distinguish between generated images and real works by human artists. Each time the generator produces an image, the discriminator evaluates it and issues a judgment: is it authentic or fake? The generator adjusts its parameters to deceive the discriminator. The discriminator adjusts its own to avoid being deceived. And so, in an endless competition, both networks improve simultaneously.

This process has a notable consequence: the generator receives no explicit instructions on how to create art. It is not told "paint like Van Gogh" or "use this colour palette". It learns on its own, from adversarial feedback, which configurations produce images the discriminator cannot reject. It is, in a sense, a form of learning by discovery: the machine explores a space of possibilities and finds, through trial and error, the regions that produce convincing results.

Qian Wang notes that this dynamic reproduces, algorithmically, something that occurs in the world of human art: the tension between creation and criticism, between the innovative impulse and the evaluative judgment. But there is a crucial difference. In human art, the critic is a subject with lived experience, with criteria formed by years of exposure and reflection. In the GAN system, the critic is a mathematical function, a set of rules that evaluate authenticity in statistical terms. The machine's "criticism" is not an aesthetic judgment; it is a probability calculation.


From adversarial learning to diffusion models: the technical evolution

Qian Wang's article does not stop at GANs. It also traces the evolution towards diffusion models, the architecture driving contemporary systems such as Midjourney or Stable Diffusion. Unlike GANs, which generate images in one go through adversarial competition, diffusion models operate through a process of gradual ruin and reconstruction.

The principle is as follows: a real image is taken and noise is progressively added until it becomes a chaos of random pixels. Then, a neural network is trained to reverse that process: given a fragment of noise, it must reconstruct the original image step by step. Once trained, the network can generate new images starting from pure noise, guided by textual instructions that orient the reconstruction towards a specific result.

This architecture has significant advantages over GANs. It is more stable during training, produces higher-quality images, and allows finer control over the final result. But, from the perspective of our research, it shares with GANs a fundamental characteristic: the machine does not "see" the world, but learns to reconstruct it from statistical patterns. There is no direct visual experience, no body traversing a scene, no memory associating an image with an emotion. There is, solely, a mathematical space of possibilities that the network has learned to navigate.


Data repositories: the fuel of learning

One aspect Qian Wang analyses in detail is the dependence on datasets. For an autonomous learning system to function, it must be fed with large repositories of labelled images. These repositories, such as the famous WikiArt or the internal datasets of AI companies, contain tens of thousands of works classified by style, author, and period.

The system learns by extracting patterns from this data. It identifies that certain colour combinations are characteristic of Impressionism, that certain compositional structures are typical of the Baroque, that certain themes appear recurrently in Renaissance art. But this learning has an intrinsic limit: the machine can only learn what is in the data. If the repository is biased —towards Western art, towards certain historical periods, towards certain genres— the system will inherit those biases and reproduce them in its creations.

This point connects with a broader reflection on the political economy of algorithmic art. The large image repositories that feed AI systems are composed, for the most part, of works by artists who have not given their consent to be used as training data. Their creations are extracted, fragmented, and recombined without compensation or recognition. The machine learns from the work of thousands of human artists, but does not acknowledge its debt to them. This asymmetry raises ethical and legal questions that still lack satisfactory answers.


The question of originality: what does it mean to create?

One of the most suggestive passages in Qian Wang's article addresses the question of originality in AI-generated art. The question is simple but profound: if a machine learns from thousands of existing works and generates a new image, is that image original? Or is it a mere recombination of pre-existing elements?

The usual answer, from a technical perspective, is that the machine's originality is always statistical. It does not invent from scratch; it explores a space of possibilities defined by the training data. Its "creativity" consists of finding combinations that were not present in the original corpus, but that are, in a sense, derivable from it. It is a form of interpolation, not of creation ex nihilo.

However, this answer raises an uncomfortable question: is human originality of another nature? If we think about it carefully, we too are, to a certain extent, machines that develop and function within a concrete niche. Our ideas, our images, our ways of seeing the world do not emerge from nothing; they derive from our own lived niche —the social, cultural, and natural environment in which we grow— and from our biological characteristics. No human artist invents from absolute emptiness; we all create from what we have seen, felt, learned, inherited.

So can we really assert that human originality implies a rupture with the existing, while the machine's is only recombination? Perhaps the distinction is not so clear-cut. What we call "rupture" in human art —the irruption of a new style, a new sensibility, a new form of expression— does not arise from a probabilistic calculation in the algorithmic sense, but it does arise from a biological calculation: a calculation that our nervous system performs with concrete characteristics that, from our perspective, are survival, symbolon, and wholeness. It is, if you will, a form of internal necessity, biologically internal.

The difference, then, would not lie in the presence or absence of calculation, but in the nature of that calculation. The machine's calculation operates on external data, on statistical patterns extracted from a corpus. The living organism's calculation operates on its own experience, on its needs, on its evolutionary and biographical history. Both are, in a sense, "machines", but one is driven by probability and the other by the need to survive, to symbolise, and to achieve wholeness. And that need, unlike statistical calculation, is not exhausted in the optimisation of a function: it unfolds over time, it transforms with experience, it confronts death and meaning.

Is that a "rupture"? Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Perhaps the difference between human art and algorithmic art is not one of essence, but of degree of embodiment. But what we can affirm is that biological calculation, unlike algorithmic calculation, is traversed by an interiority that is not reducible to statistics. And that interiority is, precisely, what art, in its origin, has sought to express.


A reading from the S/Y/C model

Qian Wang's analysis offers a concrete case in which the functioning of the Law of Biological Coherence S/Y/C that forms the core of our research can be observed (Mallo, 2023, 2025, 2026a, 2026b). The three dimensions of our thesis unfold here with uncommon clarity, precisely because the contrast with the machine allows us to see what we take for granted in the human.

The S (Survival) dimension manifests in the adaptive function of algorithmic art. Qian Wang notes that AI art systems are developed because they solve practical problems: they automate creative tasks, broaden access to design tools, offer new expressive possibilities. This is a legitimate function of cultural survival: technology is adopted when it solves a problem. But the survival of the machine is not that of the organism using it. The system does not need to create art in order to survive; the human who employs it does. AI is a tool for survival, not a subject that survives through it.

The Y (Symbolon) dimension is the point of greatest contrast. GANs and diffusion models manipulate symbols —visual representations, linguistic labels, stylistic patterns— with impressive efficiency. But they do not inhabit the symbol. There is no mutual recognition, no community of lived shared codes. The machine can label a work with the word "Baroque" and detect in it the features that criticism has associated with that period, but it has not grown up in a culture where that word meant something, has not inherited a tradition, has not felt the weight of a shared history. The human symbolon is lived; the machine's is simulated.

The C (Wholeness) dimension manifests in the search for convergence that characterises GANs and diffusion models. The generator and the discriminator compete until they reach an equilibrium, a point at which the generated images are indistinguishable from real ones. Diffusion models, for their part, reconstruct an image from chaos, progressively closing the process until they reach a coherent form. This convergence is a form of algorithmic wholeness. But it is a wholeness without yearning, without the biological drive that in humans seeks to integrate parts into a coherent whole. The machine "closes" a form because its loss function tells it to, not because it needs to make sense of its experience.

Surgical Philosophy invites us to make a precise analytical cut in Qian Wang's study. It is not about rejecting technology nor idealising it, but about distinguishing levels. At the level of technical production, autonomous learning systems are powerful tools that can expand the capacities of the artist and the educator. At the level of aesthetic experience, AI cannot replace the embodied subjectivity that constitutes the heart of art. And at the level of cultural responsibility, an ethical framework is needed to ensure that these tools are used to enhance the human, not to replace it.


Final considerations: art as encounter, not as optimisation

Qian Wang's study has the merit of offering a rigorous and complete vision of the architectures that make algorithmic art possible. His analysis of GANs, diffusion models, and data repositories provides a solid basis for understanding how the machine works internally. But, at the same time, his work reveals —perhaps unintentionally— the limits of that approach.

The machine can learn to generate images that look like art. It can optimise its creations to maximise authenticity, coherence, surprise. It can even surpass humans in specific recognition and classification tasks. But it cannot understand what it does, nor feel what it produces, nor inhabit the process of creation as an act of encounter with the other.

Now, what does this research contribute to the whole of our inquiry into the origin of art? Its most valuable contribution is the comparison it makes possible. By observing how an artificial system, organised by us, learns to generate art through adversarial competition and pattern reconstruction, we are offered an unexpected mirror for thinking about how the biological system itself, tens of thousands of years ago, might have fragmented, assimilated, and reformulated the world to create something that today encompasses us all and everything.

Comparing these two ways of constructing creation —the artificial, guided by algorithms and data; the biological, guided by needs, biases, and yearnings— can be useful for consolidating a possible theory about how biological systems in general came to produce art. It is not about equating both processes, but about using the contrast as a heuristic tool: the machine shows us, through absence, what life contributes. And in that absence —the lack of a body that feels, of a history that hurts, of a need that drives— we find precisely the keys to what art, in its origin, was and continues to be.

Art, in short, is not an optimisation of parameters. It is an encounter between embodied subjectivities. And that encounter, for now, remains the exclusive patrimony of the living.


References

Mallo, B. (2023). La construcción neuro-simbólica. Una aproximación al funcionamiento del cerebro desde una perspectiva multidisciplinar [Doctoral thesis, University of the Basque Country - Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea]. ADDI Repository. http://hdl.handle.net/10810/62701

Mallo, B. (2025). Arte y biología: Una aproximación neurofilosófica al origen de la experiencia estética. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0E8Y5WZMK

Mallo, B. (2025). Art and biology: A neurophilosophical approach to the origin of aesthetic experience. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0E8Y6C2XN

Mallo, B. (2026a). De la filosofía quirúrgica a la ley de coherencia biológica S/Y/C: Hacia una investigación sobre el origen del arte en la especie Homo. https://isbn.bibna.gub.uy/catalogo.php?mode=detalle&nt=57196

Mallo, B. (2026a). De la filosofía quirúrgica a la ley de coherencia biológica S/Y/C: Hacia una investigación sobre el origen del arte en la especie Homo [Kindle edition]. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GYGTJD5C

Mallo, B. (2026b). From surgical philosophy to the law of biological coherence S/Y/C: Toward a study of the origin of art in the Homo lineage. https://isbn.bibna.gub.uy/catalogo.php?mode=detalle&nt=57197

Wang, Q. (2024). Learning-based artificial intelligence artwork: Methodology and future directions. ACM Transactions on Multimedia Computing, Communications, and Applications, *20*(11), Article 347. https://doi.org/10.1145/3698105


Autor / Author


Bernabé Mallo
 Doctor en Filosofía – Universidad del País Vasco / Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea (UPV/EHU)
 Investigador independiente en neurofilosofía, evolución humana y origen del arte.
 

Bernabé Mallo
 PhD in Philosophy – University of the Basque Country / Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea (UPV/EHU)
 Independent researcher in neurophilosophy, human evolution, and the origin of art.

Enlaces / Links


Página de autor Amazon / Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/bernabemallo
ORCID: https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9002-9728
Plataforma EHUenRed / Link EHUenRed:  https://www.ehu.eus/es/web/masterrak-eta-graduondokoak/red-latinoamericana-de-posgrados
Canal YouTube / Channel YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@neuroideas815
Canal YouTube / Channel YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCBsf6OZ482NjST6QA-hvYtQ
Publicaciones y proyectos en desarrollo / Publications and projects: 
https://www.amazon.com/author/bernabemallo
https://ehuenred.theglocal.network/ideas/el-origen-del-arte-en-el-cerebro-de-makapansgat-al-moma-del-primate-al-sapiens