Notes for a Horizon-tality
Toward the Possibility of Becoming Together as an AssemblageMonday, August 3, 2020
Many words are walked in the world. Many worlds are made. Many worlds make us. There are words and worlds that are lies and injustices. In the world of the powerful, there is room only for the powerful and their servants. In the world we want, everybody fits. The world we want is a world in which many worlds fit.
—Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional.
Notes for a Horizon-tality: Toward the Possibility of Becoming Together as an Assemblage is a project that responds to our multiple and seemingly multiplying emergencies. Since the growing uncertainty of living in a world in crisis seems to continuously threaten the possibility of the future, this initiative seeks to contribute to the growing scholarship on this topic from the perspective of Latin American contemporary art. We hope that by providing a take on the future, the initial artistic and curatorial provocations gathered here can help counter the defuturing narratives that stagnate our mobilizing potential for constructing other ways of being in the world. In the face of generalized pessimism, it is essential to remember that recent uprisings and social movements have opened the door to alternative imaginaries for thriving amid end-of-the-world scenarios. Especially as these imaginaries underscore the fact that looking back in time constitutes a powerful form of anti-colonial resistance. That is why in taking the future only as a provocation, this inquiry explores instead how the construction of multiple worldmaking practices can yield renewed forms of solidarity. In that sense, this project is an invitation for participating artists, curators, and readers to contribute to the creation of other forms of the real that can yield new practices and orientations for becoming together as an assemblage.
The project can be accessed on the right-hand column or directly on the Worldmaking Practices debate page.
Apocalyptic scenarios and climate catastrophes have been recurrent in the history of humankind. Art historian Jesús Carrillo Castillo recounts that, in Spain in 1524, Fadrique Enríquez, a supporter of young Charles I, made it known that the rampant environmental decline that had occasioned dramatic droughts, famines, earthquakes and floods together with the widespread peasant revolts then ubiquitous in Europe signaled the end of time. Enríquez, moreover, “was not alone in this apocalyptic interpretation of current events,” Carrillo Castillo points out. “His voice was one among many prophets and astrologers all over Europe who were predicting that major catastrophes would coincide with a conjunction of planets in Pisces that year.” These apocalyptic views of nature and social upheaval undermined the Spanish Crown’s imperial expansion obliging them to develop a “redefinition of nature and its translation into recognizable and functional representations.” According to Carrillo Castillo, this need to redefine man’s relationship to the environment through new and relatable images prompted the first botanical expeditions in the Americas, the systematic collection of natural knowledge, and the construction of universities that could spur the development of scientific advancement.
Working at the time as court chronicler, Francisco López de Gómara additionally wrote the first historical account of the fall of Mexico-Tenochtitlan titled, Historia general de las Indias, which was published in 1552. More importantly, it so happened that López de Gómara, in helping construct a “new image of the world,” established in the opening pages of his book the most dangerous imperial ideology, that is, the belief that, “[t]he world is only one and not many.” An assertion that would eventually legitimize the Crown’s endeavor to consolidate modern globalization through the hegemonization of a Eurocentric worldview.
European imaginaries in the early modern age, overwhelmed by natural disasters, chaos, and disorder, found in America and its natural riches the site for the continuation of human life. However, this association of America with the future is one that, as philosopher Enrique Dussel explains, did not correspond to the concept of tomorrow, but lay, as crafted by historicist accounts, in a place somewhere behind history and altogether outside of time. Following the specification that a Latin American futurity is not one that lies ahead, as in a utopian becoming, but “outside,” the notion of Horizon-tality that I want to inquire into proposes a framework that, by incorporating indigenous social thinking, explores the future as the possibility of existing precisely outside of the modern-colonial world system.
The alleged hegemony of the modern-colonial world, which López de Gómara helped establish by declaring it the only possible world, was first contested by the Peruvian scribe and intellectual Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala who in his Primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno (1615) condemned the Spaniards for having “turned the world upside down.” With this, Guaman Poma protested the way in which Andean worldviews had been relegated to what he imagined was the bottom of the earth—an image he used to describe an inverted world defined by chaos and disorder. Guaman Poma’s objection has been echoed in many anti-colonial manifestations throughout time. More recently, in 1996, the Zapatistas (EZLN) declared that they wanted “a world where many worlds can fit,” continuing, nearly 500 years later, to undermine colonialism’s notion that the world is only one and, and by that logic, that the capitalist-modern-colonial system is the only order that can exist.
The spread of civil unrest that emerged in 2019 in Latin America, in which indigenous communities took on a leading role, has become a powerful force against asphyxiating neoliberal violence. Moreover, this social turmoil continues to react against the uncertainty that climate catastrophe, ethnocide, and the corporatization of the state have all produced. The rise of indigenous social movements at the beginning of the 1990s had already established an important precedent for social change. In reaction to the 1992 commemoration of the conquest of America, social uprisings not only protested the dispossession of indigenous and Afro-descendant peoples after five hundred years of ongoing colonialism, but they also condemned the inequality, epistemic violence, and marginalization that continued to affect social dynamics in Latin America.
While the topic of worlding is quite vast, especially in the realm of Mesoamerican and Andean cosmogenies, recent scholarship in Latin America has addressed worldmaking practices to elaborate on the possibility and urgency of a pluriverse. The pluriverse, explains political scientist Amaya Querejazu, “entails a vision where the earth is a whole living being always emerging, encouraging the discovery and the imagination of different forms of planetarization in which human beings, along with other beings can coexist enriching each other.“ For the pluriverse, however, a multiplicity of forms of worldmaking does not imply a multiplicity of perspectives on the world—the one-world logic—but alternative forms of constructing reality. That is, notions of the real that stem from different and situated ways of creating ontologies, epistemologies, and intersubjectivities that are, in turn, capable of relating to each other and the environment. In fact, Michael Baker elaborates that: “Ontologies are defined as ways of enacting worlds through lived stories and assumptions about the kinds of things that exist and their interrelations that make sense of the world. Practices and thinking come from and comprise our knowledge and understanding of what exists. Different worlds are enacted in processes, practices, and stories that comprise different cosmologies.” Thus, entertaining multiple worldings entails creating imaginaries for forms of the real that establish the conditions for different and perhaps even insurmountable worlds to exist together.
While the ontological turn has been developed in the social sciences, most particularly anthropology and science and technology studies (STS), artistic practices in Latin America have also been providing imaginaries for other ways of existing in the world that contest the rhetoric of extinction that has been normalized in our contemporary moment. In fact, artistic imaginaries are important in further constructing a pluriverse because, as Arturo Escobar has underscored:
The crisis in the regimes of representation in Latin America calls for new theories and research strategies; the crisis is a real conjunctural moment in the reconstruction of the connection between truth and reality, between words and things, one that demands new practices of seeing, knowing and being.
This effort to collectively construct worldings can also be brought to bear in the re-presentation of a multiplicity of realities: modalities that transcend the subject and object divide and extend into optics beyond the human. Imaginaries capable of narrating other myths of origin for Latin America besides one of conquest, modernity, and advanced capitalism. In that sense, we are talking about counter-visualities that can help establish paradigms that account for the incommensurability of the pluriverse while simultaneously creating connectivity between worlds. Mexican artist María Guadalupe Sosa’s take on the future included in this project, for example, follows the Rarámuri’s idea for “Formas de estar en el mundo” (ways for being in the world), which is a cosmological precept that constructs the world through a limited number of corporeal positions that can and must be adopted if one seeks to keep the world in balance. In recovering pre-Hispanic representations of bodily stances in sculpture and replicating them through performative acts, the artist brings into re-presentation worldmaking practices common to indigenous communities in northern Mexico. These enactments of alternative postures and orientations are thus part of the imaginaries that allow for counter-visualities” to emerge as optics that bring the world into being outside of the modern-colonial world logic.
As most scholarship regarding the ontological turn in Latin America refers to cosmological paradigms among indigenous communities, philosopher Nelson Goodman’s aesthetic theories help us bridge contemporary art’s worldmaking practices with that of indigenous social philosophies. Beyond imaginaries such as those employed in science fiction scenarios and futurity aesthetics, Goodman elucidates how the symbolic language of contemporary art also has important structural applications in the representation of these multiple worlds. Thus, to think—as Sosa suggests about forms, postures, and performative acts— is also to render anew forms of worlding the world that evoke alternative ways for being, which are today especially crucial for living in a world in crisis.
II. Futurity and Futurism
The recent incorporation of speculative scenarios and the appropriation of science fiction tropes in contemporary art are emblematic of our urgent need to create alternative worlds. These worlds are not, however, an idealized view of the future, but constitutes narratives that enable us to survive and repair in a world in crisis. In fact, writer Eileen Gunn, citing science fiction author Ursula Le Guin, eloquently states: “The task of science fiction is not to predict the future. Rather, it contemplates possible futures. Writers may find the future appealing precisely because it can’t be known, a black box where anything at all can be said to happen without fear of contradiction from a native. The future is a safe, sterile laboratory for trying out ideas and a means of thinking about reality, a method.” In following this understanding of the future as methodology, our proposal to think creatively (and collectively) about worldings is a mode of resistance against the neoliberal logic that continuously rejects, negates, and undermines any temporality beyond the present. Historian Jérôme Baschet explicitly underlined this when he stated: “In a world geared toward globalization, the present is the new tyrant, for in seeking a stronger grip on domination, it drowns the past in oblivion and obscures any perspective on the future that may be different from the repetition and amplification of domination today, as it wants us to believe in its perpetuity.” That is why insisting on methodologies of speculation for bringing about the possibility of the future is one way that artists today are helping unlock paradigms of representation of the real unlike those self-proclaimed universal. In that sense, many of the provocations that have been included in this project respond to fabulation as a discursive and visual method to convey the potency of imagining other possible worlds. However, as is true of new strands of futurism in contemporary art, these scenarios do not propose fictional visions of reality. Instead, they provide views that, in combining past, present, and future, concoct narratives for re-existence. That is, scenarios that, while addressing the historical oppression and violence enacted by the modern-colonial world system, simultaneously open up spaces of resistance, survival, and interspecies flourishing.
In 2017, the exhibition Mundos Alternos: Art and Science Fiction in the Americas, held at UCR ARTS in Riverside, touched on the science fiction tradition in Latin America, shedding new light on contemporary perspectives of futurity within the region and its diaspora. More specifically, Kency Cornejo’s essay in the exhibition catalog, titled “Decolonial Futures: Ancestral Borders Crossers, Time Machines, and Space Travel in Salvadorian Art,” discusses the need for a decolonial future as it relates to the subversion of the modern-colonial system and its mechanisms of erasure, surveillance, and oblivion. This push against technologies of empire is important because, in the face of multiplying forms of extinction, future imaginaries must enable the dismantling of systems of control and oppression. To account for histories of neocolonialism in El Salvador, Cornejo examined Salvadorian artist Simon Vega’s work, which addresses the impact that the Space Race between the US and the USSR had in Central America. Unlike most utopian space travel narrated in science fiction tales of the time, Vega’s investigation on the rivalry surrounding travel to the moon reveals and denounces the fact that the entire enterprise was also a justification for the development of military technologies that were subsequently tested in El Salvador during the Cold War years. By problematizing the technological utopias promulgated by some science fiction writing, Vega’s proposal for the future that we included in this editorial project creates a place on Earth that invites readers to find spaces of flourishing in an archaeological dig where a spaceship lies in ruins. In this scenario of metal scraps the artist asserts that although the future has a lot to do with temporality, it is also about space. He says: “We must understand that this is not simply about how we create different futures, but most importantly, what places we will occupy in those spaces in the future.” The centrality of placing in Vega’s provocation, on the one hand, undermines the notion promulgated by science fiction dystopias, where extraterrestrial settings are created in the face of our current planet’s demise. And on the other, claims that in order to think about Horizon-tality, we must simultaneously assume a form of radical situatedness—a consciousness about our place and space of enunciation.
Peruvian artist Alan Poma’s experimental opera The Victory Over the Sun and his work Andean Futurist Manifesto provide another take on the future, but one that combines planetary limens with the impending environmental destruction. Taking its name from the original Russian opera, Poma’s version mixes cultural traditions of the Andean highlands with Russian futurism. Written by Aleksei Kruchenykh and accompanied by the soundings of composer Mijaíl Matiushin, Victory over the Sun first premiered in St. Petersburg in 1913. The opera’s opening scene emulates a journey into outer space where viewers get to experience the darkness that befalls the universe once the Sun has been extinguished. Poma’s take on the opera, however, does not simply follow Kruchenykh’s vision but puts forth the construction of an indigenous Latin American futurity as a response to the intertwining of colonialism and environmental destruction. The artist speaks to how power struggles for control over the Earth ended in the conquest of the Sun—an end-of-the-world scenario that in the early twentieth century foresaw how the perpetuation of environmental violence could extinguish life not only on our planet but throughout the entire universe. Thus, by connecting two incommensurable worlds (the Russian and the Andean) through their shared imperative to look back in time for a past that has not yet passed, Poma’s works proposes a radical notion of the future.
By expanding the relationship between the real and unreal, the visible and invisible artists in this project like Poma and Vega, suggest imaginaries for constructing possible futures. The imaginaries created through these textual provocations, however, do not just put forward alternative modes of knowing where is the future; they are also asking: Whose world is it?
III. Indigenous Futures
Seeking to preserve our multiple and heterogeneous ecosystems while also deterring growing climate violence, the notion of futurity that is being suggested here emerges from the perspective of indigenous futures. Although this notion of futurity does not refer to a specific idea or vision of the future, this has as its horizon the repositioning of our ways of relating to the environment and each other. Following contemporary indigenous ecocriticism, this need to inquire into worldmaking practices from Latin America stems from the understanding that the destruction of the environment constitutes one of the major systems upholding colonial domination. These are systems of domination that not only need to be countered, resisted, and dramatically disarticulated, but that also necessitate frameworks and methodologies capable of yielding new paradigms for re-existence.
In calling for a multiplicity of approaches to possible worldmaking practices, this project looks to avoid reproducing a metaphoricity of the pluriverse, that is, converting the ontological turn into a simple concept— a discursive mechanism. Rather, it hopes to prompt multiple—and multiplying—paradigms of representation that can enable us to exist outside of the modern-colonial world system. This is not, however, simply coming together as Latin Americans but as ever-shifting assemblages of “patched together” intersubjectivities; an assemblage of worldings, peoples, and temporalities. This includes heterochronicities for becoming with the world that contest the hegemony of linear temporalities. Along these lines, artist Sandra Monterroso’s performative proposal for walking through time, described in her text Pasado mañana, follows the Maya Q’eqchi’ concept of Kab’ej, which foregrounds the simultaneity of pastness and future. Conversely, Kaqchikel artist Ángel Poyón Calí in his artwork Estudios del fracaso medidos en tiempo y espacio analyzes the fact that, “the face of time has changed,'' and by questioning modern time, proposes the embodiment of ancestral time, which looks forward into the optical orientation of his grandmothers and grandfathers.
The artistic provocations gathered here, moreover, underscore the notion of assemblage by repositioning us toward modes of thinking and being that challenges the divide between humans and nature. That is why, determined by relational ontologies, the pluriverse additionally defies the historical association between nature and the future that has been established in the West. Relationality presupposes a post-human mode of being in the world, a mode of equivalence with nature that dissociates it from being an object of man and thus, a representational trope for the future. It insists instead on a radically different form of becoming with both human and non-human beings through relationships of reciprocity. Ecuadorian artist José Luis Macas exemplifies this in his collaborative performative piece titled Ayni/Trans-acción - Acuerdo de Trueque in which he performs actions that seek to “represent modes of interlacing equilibrium, solidarity, and reciprocity.” The performative acts, which weave together territories, ancient textile traditions, and people, do so with the concept of ayni, referring to communitarian forms of retribution. By including Andean social philosophies as methodologies for bringing the world into being, the artist ultimately renders visible and reproducible forms of solidarity across worldmaking practices.
For Andean social philosophies, relational ontologies allow for new optical directions that take into account both human and nonhuman worldmaking practices. This includes worldings premised on unvisualizable or unrepresentable relationalities. Ecuadorian artist Paul Rosero’s project Un mundo en llamas explores the creative potential of volcanoes, heeding Andean scientific knowledge. In conveying the relationship between glaciers, as bodies of water, and volcanoes, the artist speaks to the way in which a world created through volcanic eruption is, as a result, a world of water. Bodies of water and human bodies are, moreover, related to each other through forces of reciprocity. Rosero explains that “the collective experiences we have with both earth and water can be transformed into concepts or ways of being in the world.” In fact, to think about multispecies thriving in and around the unbearable fires of the volcano is to live amid a life-threatening environment. Nonhuman and humans alike, however, have historically lived and thrived around volcanoes, for as much as they represent great dangers, they are also the most fruitful and flourishing ecosystems on earth. Yet as sites of both life and death, volcanoes represent a radically different form of existing in the world only if one is willing to denaturalize the Western idea of a “wild” or untamable nature where only the fittest can survive.
Furthermore, Rosero’s call for methods to counter extinction relates to Oscar Gardea’s notes for survival in a state of exception. As an artist and academic, Gardea engages in crypsis as a means to navigate and outlive an ecosystem governed by death. He elaborates on this when stating that by “inhabiting unrepresentable landscapes [such as Ciudad Juárez], crypsis as a state of perpetual becoming through unintelligibility has turned into the manner in which reinvention and adaptability ergonomize a possible worldview of the future.” In other words, this is how tactical strategies for avoiding technologies of empire create fissures that allow for survival within increasingly predatory environments. Alternatively, Chilean artist Patricia Dominguez’s sci-fi storytelling combines the spread of fires in Bolivia last year with the social fires of civil protesting in Chile, to underscore how, in an increasingly visualizable world, optics are now hegemonized by the neoliberal state. Contesting the all-seeing eye of “mother-drone,” the artist conveys an interspecies story of resistance. In distinct contexts and with differing needs for passing unseen, these artists speak against extinction precisely by defying Cartesian ocularcentrism (the great divide) and human visual regimes of surveillance and control. In other words, by avoiding translation and mimetic representation, they bring into being worlds that take into account paradigms of unrepresentability.
IV. Notes for a Horizon-tality: Towards Becoming Together as an Assemblage
The fact that the future demands that we position ourselves vis-à-vis each other and other-than-human beings invites us to think toward the construction of a form of Horizon-tality. I invoke here the concept of horizon to not only move away from the construct of the future as a utopian project premised on linear time, but also so that we can instead build upon what Nancy Adajania and Ranjit Hoskote propose, which:
[…] As an orientational construct established by sentient beings while forming a visual estimate of their environment and the optical direction they must take while moving within it, the horizon comes to carry a freight of spiritual, cultural, and political connotations.
This entails the construction of situated positionalities that hold us accountable for the directions that we take while moving within one or multiple worlds. Unlike what motivated the Spanish Crown in the sixteenth century, this is not necessarily an invitation to re-imagine the natural world, fixing it once again in representation, even though that can be a provocative space of resistance. Rather, it requires that we create and enact radically different ways of relating to each other and to the environment. That is why the artistic provocations included here are not simply looking towards the horizon in a perspectival landscape, as a goal never possibly or fully reached and projected into our culturally constructed notion of “nature.” As further stipulated by Adajania and Hoskote, “the horizon does not exist in nature. Despite its perennial evocation as a key trope of the mystery and splendor of the natural world, whether in the literature of travel or the art of the Sublime, the horizon as a universal limit or limen of experience is a fiction invented by the surveyor and the navigator.” Instead, this project invites speculations on forms of Horizon-tality that, following Anna Tsing, can help us “construct assemblages by looking around, rather than ahead.” In that sense, this notion of Horizon-tality constitutes a collective orientation toward a possibility of the future that has in its sight the prospect of the past and the urgency of the present.
The speculative imaginaries that readers will find in this project are, moreover, attempts at reorienting our thinking and mode of relationality based on concepts, images, and performative acts which, read together, may help us envision an assemblage of positions, visualities, and situated knowledges. In this way, we can know that this so-called end of the world that overwhelms us today relates only to the end of the modern-colonial world system and not the end of the many other worlds that make up this universe. In fact, as Amaya Querejazu explains:
The idea of the universe is very powerful and has been imposed as a reality through different processes, some more violent than others. This idea has become so strong and natural that it seems indisputable. But if we think of reality, and what it encompasses (Space, time, truth, subjectivity/objectivity, and so forth), we see that it is a social construction, a situated creation of our minds in connection with our environment and according to our frameworks of knowledge, or ontologies. Reality is the product of intersubjective practice, and so there are many ways to create reality and many possible realities, and there are, of course, different kinds of subjects, not all of them human. Human, natural, and spiritual beings connect forming identities and realities that have tangible political effects, non-humans have political agency, will, and interest as well.
This implies horizons that rather than a destination, entail both a point of departure and a vantage point. A situated place from which to engage a world in crisis. A position, in other words, that helps us create new forms of the real and ways of representing it so that we may start working toward the construction of an assemblage of multiple worlds “stitched together” by solidarity.
This proposal for engaging in an assemblage against extinction, however, prompts two different albeit related questions namely: where is the future? And whose world are we to imagine? In addition to the aforementioned artists, we invited an array of collaborators from Latin America to provide a multiplicity of answers so that together we can foster the beginning of what could be a collective imaginary for Horizon-tality. In the next few entries readers will find a variety of provocations: some propose other ways of telling time (past, present, future); others may incite us to follow new directions or assume new orientations; may offer imaginaries for what an indigenous, Black, queer, or feminist proposition for Horizon-tality would look like; additional ones may help us to think about what an interspecies Horizon-tality could entail, and lastly, they may altogether offer us an (aesth)et(h)ics for collaged and stitched-together assemblages for being and existing in the world outside of the modern-colonial world system.
Acknowledgement: This research started thanks to the thought-provoking residency I participated in organized by sociologist Alessandro Zagato and the art historians Natalia Arcos and T.J. Demos on “Creative Ecologies and Decolonial Futurities,” which took place in Chiapas, Mexico (2019). The project, moreover, would not have been possible without the help of editor and writer Jesus Torrivilla and the generous feedback of Ana Varas, Maria Alejandra Pautassi, and Constanza Salazar. I’m also grateful to the participating artists and curators who in the most nerve-racking months of the COVID-19 pandemic enthusiastically took on this project and made it what it is now.
 Comité Clandestino Revolucionario Indígena-Comandancia General del Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional, “Cuarta declaración de la selva lacandona” (México, Enero de 1996). http://enlacezapatista.ezln.org.mx/1996/01/01/cuarta-declaracion-de-la-selva-lacandona/
 Jane Bennett’s definition of assemblage helps us understand ways of engaging the pluriverse: “Assemblages are ad hoc groupings of diverse elements, of vibrant materials of all sorts. Assemblages are living, throbbing confederations that are able to function despite the persistent presence of energies that confound them from within. They have uneven topographies, because some of the points at which the various affects and bodies cross paths are more heavily trafficked than others, and so power is not distributed equally across its surface. Assemblages are not governed by any central head: no one materiality or type of material has sufficient competence to determine consistently the trajectory or impact of the group. The effects generated by an assemblage are, rather, emergent properties, emergent in that their ability to make something happen (a newly inflected materialism, a blackout, a hurricane, a war on terror) is distinct from the sum of the vital force of each materiality considered alone. Such member and proto-member of the assemblage has a certain vital force, but there is also an effectivity proper to the grouping as such: an agency of the assemblage. And precisely because each member-actant maintains an energetic pulse slightly off from that of the assemblage, an assemblage is never a stolid block, but an open-ended collective, a “non-totalizable sum.” Jane Bennett, Vibrant Matter (Durham: Duke University Press, 2010), 24.
 Jesús Carrillo Castillo, “‘The World Is Only One and Not Many’: Representation of the Natural World in Imperial Spain,” in Spain in the Age of Explorations (1492-1819), ed. Chiyo Ishikawa (Lincoln, University of Nebraska Press, 2004), 139.
 Carrillo Castillo, “‘The World Is Only One and Not Many’: Representation of the Natural World in Imperial Spain,” 139.
 Ibid., 142.
 Francisco López de Gómara, prólogo y cronología Jorge Gurria Lacroix, and Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo y Valdés. Historia General de Las Indias. [S.l.]: Cromberger, 1535. www.biodiversitylibrary.org/title/8045.
 Carrillo Castillo, “‘The World is Only One and Not Many’: Representation of the Natural World in Imperial Spain,” 142.
 Enrique Dussel, 1492: El encuentro del otro. Hacia el origen del “mito de la modernidad (La Paz: Plural Editores, 1994), 25; Enrique Dussel, The Invention of the Americas. The Eclipse of the “other” and the Myth of Modernity (New York: Continuum, 1995), 20.
 I insist on an outside of the modern-colonial world system as a mode of representation, following Ronaldo Vázquez, who he explains: “We see modernity/coloniality as exercising their hegemony, their control over the world mainly through two overarching movements, two modes of relating to the world: appropriation and representation. Each mode of relating to the world manifests itself in a wide variety of fields, discourses, mechanism, and practices. [...] In revealing the mechanisms of appropriation and representation of the modern/colonial rule over the “real,” decolonial critique aims at depriving modernity of its universal pretension, of its total validity claims. Such a critique is a necessary step towards the humbling of modernity and the possibility of decolonial understanding and intercultural dialogue. […] Decolonial critique and the humbling of modernity work in the epistemic field to open spaces for the listening of the voices from the outside of modernity. Ronaldo Vázquez, “Towards a Decolonial Critique of Modernity. Buen Vivir, Relationality and the Task of Listening,” Denktraditionen Im Dialog: Studien Zur Befreiung Und Interkulturalität 33 (2012): 242; Arturo Escobar, Designs for a Pluriverse. Radical Interdependence, Autonomy, and the Making of Worlds (Durham, Duke University Press, 2017), 19.
 Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, “Pontificial World,” in Primer Nueva Corónica y Buen Gobierno, 1516, Copenhagen, The Royal Library.
 For additional analysis of Guaman Poma’s declaration see Olson, Christa J. and Rubén Casas, "Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala's Primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno and the Practice of Rhetorical Theory in Colonial Peru," Quarterly Journal of Speech 101, no. 3 (2015): 469.
 Comité Clandestino Revolucionario Indígena-Comandancia General del Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional, “Cuarta declaración de la selva lacandona” (México, Enero de 1996). http://enlacezapatista.ezln.org.mx/1996/01/01/cuarta-declaracion-de-la-selva-lacandona/
 Kimberley Brown, “Ecuador’s Indigenous People are Leading the Anti-Government Protests. They have a Record of Ousting Presidents,” Washington Post (October 10, 2019).
www.washingtonpost.com/world/the_americas/ecuadors-indigenous-people-are-leading-the-nations-anti-government-protests-they-have-a-record-of-ousting-presidents/2019/10/10/ab9d7f1e-eaa2-11e9-a329-7378fbfa1b63_story.html; Anatoly Kurmanaev and Clifford Krauss, “Ethnic Rifts in Bolivia Burst Into View With Fall of Evo Morales,” The New York Times (November 17, 2019). www.nytimes.com/2019/11/15/world/americas/morales-bolivia-Indigenous-racism.html; Sergio Caniuqueo Huircapan, “Pueblo Mapuche y la inflexión histórica del 18/O” Ciper (November 31, 2019). https://ciperchile.cl/2019/10/31/pueblo-mapuche-y-la-inflexion-historica-del-18-o/
 Amaya Querejazu further explains that “Taking the pluriverse as an ontological starting point, implies not simply tolerating difference, but actually understanding that reality is constituted not only by many worlds, but by many kinds of worlds, many ontologies, many ways of being in the world, many ways of knowing reality, and experimenting those many worlds.” See Amaya Querejazu, “Encountering the Pluriverse: Looking for Alternatives in Other Worlds,” Revista Brasileira de Política Internacional 59, no. 2 (2016): 3.
 Querejazu, “Encountering the Pluriverse: Looking for Alternatives in Other Worlds,” 3.
 To this Walter Mignolo, and Catherine Walsh state that “Decolonially speaking, ontologies are cosmological/epistemic creations (storytelling about the creation of the world (cosmologies) and principles of knowing within a given cosmology (epistemology); it is through knowledge that entities and relations are conceived, perceived, sensed, and described. In this specific sense, there are as many ‘ontologies’ and ‘relationalogies’ as there are cosmologies. Epistemologies are always derived from cosmologies.” Walter D. Mignolo, and Catherine Walsh, On decoloniality: Concepts, analytics, praxis (Durham, NC: Duke University Press), 135.
 Michael Baker, “Exploring the Ontological Turn: Re-making Education for Existence Beyond Modernity” unpublished paper presented at the American Educational Studies Association Conference, Baltimore, Maryland Sunday November 3, 2019.
 Ronaldo Vázquez explains that worlding the world means paying attention to the relational model in which worlds relate to each other, which runs counter to the modern-colonial world system’s effort to continue de-worlding the world or imposing the one-world logic by obliterating and rendering inexistent other modes of creating worlds. See, Ronaldo Vázquez, “Precedence, Earth and the Anthropocene: Decolonizing Design,” Design Philosophy Papers (March 24, 2017): 3.
 Escobar, Arturo, Encountering Development: The Making and Unmaking of the Third World (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995), 223.
 Querejazu, “Encountering the Pluriverse: Looking for Alternatives in Other Worlds,” 4.
 For additional information on the pluriverse and the ontological turn, see Arturo Escobar, Designs for the Pluriverse: Radical Interdependence, Autonomy, and the Making of Worlds (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2017); Marisol de la Cadena and Mario Blaser, eds., A World of Many Worlds (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2018); and Mario Blaser, “Ontology and Indigeneity: On the Political Ontology of Heterogeneous Assemblages,” Cultural Geographies 21, no. 1 (2014): 49–58.
 A. Nünning, V. Nünning, and Birgit Neumann, "Ways of Worldmaking as a Model for the Study of Culture: Theoretical Frameworks, Epistemological Underpinnings, New Horizons." In Cultural Ways of Worldmaking (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2010), 1-3.
 While in the history of art, Futurism commonly refers to avant-garde movements like Italian futurism, Russian futurism and the Estridentista Movement in Mexico, which at the time advocated for modernization by capturing and celebrating the technological advancements of the time, futurism here refers instead to the collapsing of temporalities more commonly associated with science fiction narratives, specifically following the cultural critique of Mark Dery who coined the term Afrofuturism in the late 1990s. Following the trend of Afrofuturism and Chicano futurism, this proposal is associated more closely with recent tendencies in indigenous futurism. For the purpose of clarity, however, I will refer to these contemporary imaginaries for nonutopian futures, as futurity. Moreover, readers will see that the artist Alan Poma juxtaposes the twentieth-century Russian futurist movement with his proposition for an Andean futurity. While these terms may be used interchangeably throughout the papers included in this project, these traditions should not be confused.
 Eileen Gunn, “How America's Leading SF Authors Are Shaping Your Future.” Smithsonian Magazine (May 2014). www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/how-americas-leading-science-fiction-authors-are-shaping-your-future-180951169/?page=2 [Last visited: 12.1.2016]
 Jérôme Baschet, “La historia frente al presente perpetuo. Algunas observaciones sobre la relación pasado/futuro,” Relaciones. Estudios de historia y sociedad XXIV, no. 93 (invierno, 2003): 225. [My translation].
 Kency Cornejo, “Decolonial Futures: Ancestral Border Crossers, Time Machines, and Space Travel in Salvadorian Art,” in Mundos Alternos: Art and Science Fiction in the Americas, ed. Robb Hernandez (Riverside: University of California, Riverside, 2017), 23.
 Adolfo Alban Ahite, Prácticas creativas de re-existencia basadas en el lugar: más allá del arte. El mundo de lo sensible. 1a ed (Buenos Aires: Ediciones del Signo, 2017).
 Thomas Clement Mercier, “Uses of ‘The Pluriverse’: Cosmos, Interrupted – or the Others and Humanities.” Ostium, no. 5, (2019): 7-8.
 Anna Tsing refers to forms of assemblage that are “patched together,” however, Donna Haraway refers to “’stitch[ing] together’ and being able to join with another, to see together without claiming to be another.” See Anna Tsing Lowenhaupt, The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015), 21-22; and, Donna Haraway, “Situated Knowledges: The Science Question in Feminism and the Privilege of Partial Perspective” Feminist Studies 14, no. 3 (Autumn, 1988): 586.
 According to Puspa Damai who, following Giorgio Agamben, explains that “[t]he events of 9/11, the War on Terror, and the successive decrees and acts authorizing fingerprinting, interrogation, and indefinite detention of suspects in terrorist activities, all testify to Agamben’s prophetic portrayal of contemporary politics in which the state of exception—normally a provisional attempt to deal with political exigencies—has become a permanent practice or paradigm of government. When the exception becomes the rule, it results, argues Agamben, not only in the appropriation of the legislative or judiciary power by the executive, the suspension of the constitution, and the extension and encroachment of the military’s wartime authority into the civic sphere, but also in a state of global civil war, which “allows for the physical elimination not only of political adversaries but of entire categories of citizens who for some reason cannot be integrated into the political system.” For more on how we currently operate under a state of exception see, Puspa Damai, “The Killing Machine of Exception: Sovereignty, Law, and Play in Agamben’s State of Exception,” CR: The New Centennial Review, 5.3, (2005): 255-256.
 I am referring to the strand of critical posthumanism associated with Rosi Braidotti’s book The Posthuman, which questions the eighteenth-century definition of the human, and proposes the decentering of the Vitruvian man – white, abled-body man – at the center of the universe. For more on this, see Rosi Braidotti, The Posthuman (Cambridge, UK, Polity, 2013).
 Querejazu, “Encountering the Pluriverse: Looking for Alternatives in Other Worlds,” 9.
 Nancy Adajania and Ranjit Hoskote, “The Nth Field: The Horizon Reloaded,” in On Horizons: A Critical Reader in Contemporary Art, eds. Maria Hlavajova, Simon Sheikh, and Jill Winder (Berlin: BAK, 2011), 17; Hans-Georg Gadamer’s evocative concept of a “fusion of horizons” is also interesting, as he relates it to the question of vision and to looking into something that escapes our range of vision: “Every finite present has its limitations. We define the concept of ‘situation’ by saying that it represents a standpoint that limits the possibility of vision. Thus, an essential part of the concept of situation is the concept of ‘horizon. The horizon is the range of vision that includes everything that can be seen from a particular vantage point... A person who has no horizon is a man who does not see far enough and hence overvalues what is nearest to him. On the other hand, ‘to have a horizon,’ means not being limited to what is nearby, but to being able to see beyond it.” See, Hans-Georg Gadamer, Truth and Method (New York: Continuum, 1997), 302.
 For a critical look at the construction of nature, see T. J., Demos, Decolonizing Nature: Contemporary Art and the Politics of Ecology (Berlin: Sternberg Press, 2016).
 Adajania and Hoskote, “The Nth Field: The Horizon Reloaded,” 17.
 Tsing, The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins, 21-22.
 Marisol de la Cadena and Mario Blaser, eds., A World of Many Worlds (Durham: Duke University Press, 2018), 6.
 Querejazu, “Encountering the Pluriverse: Looking for Alternatives in Other Worlds,” 4.
 Anna Tsing Lowenhaupt, The Mushroom at the End of the World: On the Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015), 21-22.