Illustration of Violeta Parra. Courtesy: Consejo Nacional de la Cultura y las Artes, Gobierno de Chile
Carlos Barón

Friday evening, Oct. 14, at the Freight & Salvage Coffeehouse in Berkeley, there was a concert celebrating the Chilean singer and composer Violeta Parra.

Violeta would have been 100 this year, but she died just before turning 50. She used a gun to cut her own life short. It was 1967.

Her passing was a sad and terrible occurrence for lovers and practitioners of what is known as the “New Latino American Song.” Violeta has been called the mother of that particular musical movement. When we lost her, we lost our creative mother.

The death of a beloved public person leaves us all in a kind of perplexed disbelief.

Some collective guilt might appear. What did we do? What did we fail to do? Why did she do it? Was there something that we could have done, all of us, to prevent that tragedy?

Violeta Parra. Foto: Raul Alvarez/Via: Consejo Nacional de la Cultura y las Artes, Gobierno de Chile

There is not one clear answer, but perhaps the infamous “Chilean payback” comes to mind. In Chile, that usually refers to the poor treatment that someone receives from his/her own people, although that person should be celebrated, loved and admired.

In the case of Violeta Parra, she became better known and respected once she stepped away from her homeland. Her music, as well as her wondrous sack-cloth art,  were first admired in Europe, especially in France when none other than the Louvre Museum opened its doors to her (long before that artwork and her music were formally welcomed and valued in Chile).  Even then, when she created her own “Carpa,” or “musical tent,” the audiences never materialized as she had envisioned.

That, clearly, was a distressing and depressing factor in her life.

Of course, there are other possible reasons, besides that killer official indifference: she was a passionate person, one who fell madly in love quite a few times… and suffered quite a few times. Heartbreaks can take a heavy toll. At the time of her death, her heart had been broken again.

Those are some disconcerting and sad facts, but on Oct. 14 we participated in a celebratory event and we happily sang and shared the words and melodies of a true universal musical genius (though the life and work of Violeta Parra is firmly rooted in the specificity of her Chilean reality).

The fact that Violeta is one of the truest Chileans, actually proves that the universal can be found in the specificity of the extremely local, if that local creator has a universal vision and if her work (as the case was with Violeta) celebrates the human condition and its joys and vicissitudes.

Some clear examples of her universal appeal are found in the lyrics of her songs, such as her beloved song “Gracias a la vida” (“Thanks to life”).

That song, part of her last album (“Last Compositions”), was created a year before her death and transcends geographical frontiers. Listeners from all over the world feel an undeniable connection with the thoughts and feelings expressed in the lyrics:

La Jardinera. Portrait of Violeta Parra by Rodrigo Andres Diaz Carrizo

Thanks to life, which has given me so much.

It gave me two beams of light, that when opened,

I can perfectly distinguish black from white

and in the sky above, her starry backdrop,

and from within the multitude, the one that I love.

Thanks to life, which has given me so much.

It gave me an ear that, in all of its width

records— night and day—crickets and canaries,

hammers and turbines and bricks and storms,

and the tender voice of my beloved.

Those verses, in their inviting simplicity, ooze tenderness and prompt the listener to contemplate his/her own experiences.

The enumeration of the everyday experiences contained in the song makes it extremely accessible; that mix of simple objects with familiar and evocative sounds resonates in us. When she sings to “the tender voice of my beloved,” it is very likely that we will associate that voice with the voice of our beloved. The singular becomes the plural. The local becomes the universal.

In “Gracias a la vida,” she ends with this verse, which clearly shows her lifelong commitment to be a part of the whole, a voice for all, a voice with all:

Thanks to life, which has given me so much.

It gave me laughter and it gave me longing.

With them I distinguish happiness and pain—

The two materials from which my song is formed,

And your song, which is the same song.

And everyone’s song, which is my very song.

The emphasis at the end is clearly an identification of our interconnectedness. An invitation to recognize that we are one and the same and it connects with a well-known Mayan greeting: I”n Lak’ech Ala K’in.” I am another yourself. Or I am you and you are me. Coincidence? I do not believe it is so. Violeta and the Mayas were perfectly in tune.

There was no sadness on that Friday night celebration. There was nostalgia, love, laughter, shared smiles, but no sadness. We were there to sing and to celebrate!

And we chanted, loudly: ¡Gracias por tu vida, Violeta Parra!