About Cali
It’s tempting to think of Cali when considering opening an artist residency or referring to it as a place for creation and a source of inspiration for artists from different latitudes. Cali might seem like a city significantly affected by the course of history in terms of progress, but when we think of Cali as a natural ecosystem, we find it is a city that—because of its geographical location—becomes a place with environments predisposed to contemplation, conversation, and the enjoyment of time—activities that suit artistic life well or that allow for leisure as a fundamental raw material of thought.
Cali is a city of around two million inhabitants, located near Colombia’s Pacific coast. It has historically been recognized as a city open to external cultural expressions, such as salsa music and cinema, as well as a space of cultural resistance and a certain culture of critical thinking as common sense.
Cali has a milky light, somewhere between clear and overcast. Sometimes the mornings are very bright, with abundant sunlight bathing the plants and trees, and other times it turns gray quite often, making everything look bleak, almost sad, as if precariousness becomes more visible. It’s reasonable to think of the sun as something that creates the feeling that everything is fine—perhaps that’s why people who don’t get much sun tend to work more? Well, here there’s plenty of sun, sun that becomes spicy, that cinnamon-coats the skin. Sometimes, the best thing to do is to lie by a pool in Cali and do nothing.
Cali is a dream crossed by a river, as Eduardo Carranza once said—or better yet, by seven rivers. The river is an element that unifies Cali’s culture. In Cali, going to the river is a must—or rather, bathing in the river. The river takes away everything you are until you come out. It is that natural, spiritual element that connects people from Cali with their ancestry, with their past—a place for deeply existential conversations. The river is the music that caleños use to renew themselves and perform spiritual cleansing.
There are several Calis within one. There is the Cali of the 1940s—the old Cali, as it’s called—which preserves many colonial elements in its architecture. Then there’s a Cali that mimics or simplifies the colonial style to give it a modernist flair, where neighborhoods were founded and neighborhood life emerged. This is where we find the Cali with the marked accent of the neighborhoods that are now part of the downtown commercial area, filled with the voices of street vendors and the stories of local characters. The urban neighborhood Cali is full of almond and acacia trees.
There is also a mafioso Cali, shaped by violent narratives and aggressive imagery. That Cali has also spread and made its way into popular culture, and even at times into positions of power, where we see political figures tainted by a narco aesthetic—an aesthetic that, even in the crypticism of certain architecture, has managed to take root.
Caleños speak in a relatively soft manner, especially when compared to Spanish or Argentine accents, or even to other regions of Colombia.
In Cali, one could say there is an implicit visuality in almost everything that manifests through language. It’s part of the local jargon to use the phrase vé or mirá vé before pointing something out. Another common expression is oís, which is added at the end of certain phrases to express emphasis, surprise, or admiration. For example: “Trae chaqueta que parece que va a llover, oís?” (Bring a jacket, looks like it’s going to rain, right?).
The Sultana of the Valley was influenced—among many others—by Spanish accents such as those from Andalusia and Extremadura, which were blended into the region during colonial times.
As language experts Germán Patiño and Ana María Díaz Collazos point out, in Cali, certain linguistic features are characteristic—such as the substitution of “S” with “J,” the use of “M” instead of “N” at the end of words (like when we go to buy pam for breakfast), relaxed consonants, slow rhythms, and the distinct expressions mirá and oís. There are also certain words that seem to be used exclusively in the region, due to its particular dialect.
For example, thanks to that influence, we pronounce “Z” and “S” the same way—reflecting the Andalusian accent, which does so, unlike northern Spanish accents. Another Andalusian trait is dropping the “S” at the end of words or replacing it with a “J”: nosotroj somoj. Doesn’t that sound a bit like the Caribbean coast?
The city’s culture developed based on the romantic writing of Jorge Isaacs in the 19th century—a period in which the city was transforming from rural to urban. Cali’s privileged geographical location, as part of the Valle del Cauca, makes it a city that stretches across a valley flanked by two mountain ranges, bordered by the Pacific jungle. This gives the city an atmosphere that’s both coastal and forested, both humid and dry. With its many rivers, Cali forms an ecosystem ideal for contemplation and the enjoyment of natural landscapes.
Cali was recognized and stood out as the host of the Pan-American Graphic Arts Biennial in the 1980s, gathering the work of prominent international artists in the field of graphic arts.
Moreover, Cali has been known for its artistic community which, despite limited institutional infrastructure, has managed to create independent artist-run spaces that have become important references both locally and internationally—such as Casa Tomada, Ciudad Solar, Lugar a Dudas, and even Museo La Tertulia in its early days.
When we look at the streets, we also find a city broken at its foundation—potholes in the roads that reveal the neglect of past administrations, a politics of the haphazard, of the moment. A city that belongs to everyone and no one, a city of “every man for himself,” shaped by a corrupt school of mafioso inheritance and perhaps the result of a lack of an austere, everyday, calm culture—one not so driven by superficial trends. These conditions leave behind a landscape that is at times austere, miserable, mundane, decadent, and putrid.
Now, there are other new Calis that have yet to fully consolidate as “Cali.” There’s an expanded Cali made up of 1980s-style residential complexes, or a more contemporary Cali that is only just beginning to write its own story—or rather, where stories are being written in different ways. New ways of narrating, new ways of inhabiting the territory are still in the process of building an identity.
Salsa as a musical genre was born in Cuba, christened in New York City, and later, in the 1980s, gained international prominence thanks to Colombia and other Caribbean countries—but its spirit chose to live in Cali. Cali adopted salsa as its popular philosophy. Salsa entered through Buenaventura and found its roots in Black culture, and the mestizo caleño made it his own. It was during that Richie Ray and Bobby Cruz concert in !”·$% when Sonido Bestial was played live for the first time, and Cali fell—deeply and eternally—at the feet of a musical genre that, alongside others like the bolero, would polish every tile in the city, make dancing a trial by fire for finding love, and earn the city its title as the world capital of salsa and the place where salsa is listened to more than anywhere else in the world.
There’s a certain contradiction in Cali when it comes to art. Despite being a city with weak institutions and an incipient ecosystem that makes the survival or development of artists almost utopian, the city has an atmosphere that, paradoxically, makes it an entirely fertile ground for creation and thought. Looking back at history, we can see that Cali was the stage for some of the most dynamic artistic scenes in Colombia—not only in visual arts but also in disciplines such as theater, poetry, and film. Until relatively recently—around 2005—while Bogotá was flourishing with a vibrant scene fueled by the Artbo fair, a wide offering of galleries, and a generous arts budget, Cali’s artists remained in the national spotlight. Spaces like Lugar a Dudas, artist collectives, and figures who managed to transcend to the international stage helped define the trajectory of Colombian art over the past few decades.