In this section I’ve decided to get creative and depict some artistic impressions of the disaster. I’ve been wrestling with trying to understand the feelings of the miners throughout the entire ordeal. From the lows of being trapped underground, to the high of being discovered and learning that they will be freed, to the elation felt in being so sought after by the media and the world after they were rescued, and back down to the low of having all the cameras return home while they lost their lawsuit against the mining company. For this I decided to write a rhyming poem, pretending to be one of the miners going through such a range of emotion. I then translated this poem into Spanish so that it could feel as real as possible… hopefully as if it emanated from the mouth of one of the miners themselves.
Been to Hell and Back and Back Again
A poem by Max Greenwald
| Been to Hell and Back and Back Again | Has estado en el Infierno y volver y volver otra vez |
|---|---|
| I. Hell There are those who don’t believe in religion, Those who insist science will tell. They say there are no concrete facts, Enumerating the locations of heaven and hell. Recalibrate your odometers, And double-check your examination. Because I will give you the answers, To your misguided calculation. Hell has real coordinates, On a longitudinal and latitudinal dimension. It is 2,000 feet underground, And I am in it now that you mention. 50 feet by 50 feet by 50 feet, An encasement of copper and stone. 33 men and 17 days of 1 spoonful of tuna, The scientist here has never felt so alone. The headlights are dimming, The hopefulness in our hearts is waning. I apologize for my miscalculations, This atheist is need of saving. | I. Infierno Hay quienes no creen en la religión, Aquellos que insisten en la ciencia lo dirá. Dicen que no hay hechos concretos, Enumerar los lugares del cielo y el Infierno. Vuelva a calibrar sus odómetros, Y volver a revisar su examen. Porque yo le dará las respuestas, Para su cálculo erróneo. El infierno tiene coordenadas reales, En una dimensión longitudinal y latitudinal. Es 2.000 metros bajo tierra, Y yo estoy en ella ahora que lo mencionas. 50 pies por 50 pies por 50 pies, Un recubrimiento de cobre y piedra. 33 hombres y 17 días de 1 cucharada de atún, El científico que aquí nunca se ha sentido tan solo. Los faros se apagaban, La esperanza en nuestros corazones está disminuyendo. Pido disculpas por mis errores de cálculo, Este ateo es necesidad de ahorrar. |
| II. Back With steady hands and shining eyes, He tapes the note to the drill’s whirring first mate. Faster now it rises back toward heaven, A place that takes hell to truly appreciate. Estamos bien en el refugio los 33 A crumpled note shown to those we love. And to the gauntly miner in here, A golden ticket to an elevator ride above. Christmas in October, I should know the day, ha jokes. Down the chute comes food, And clothes, and wine and smokes. Her soft voice is music, Filling my eyes with tears. I tell my wife I’ll be out soon, Contrary to all of her fears. I wait patiently now for a day soon to come, For freedom from this hell is my divine right. I will ascend from the musky jail cell, And finally open my eyes to see the light. | II . Atrás Con manos firmes y los ojos brillantes, El graba la nota a zumbido primer oficial de la broca. Más rápido que ahora se eleva de nuevo hacia el cielo, Un lugar que lleva el infierno para apreciar de verdad. Estamos bien en el refugio los 33 Una nota arrugada demostrado que las personas que amamos. Y para el minero solitariamente aquí, Un boleto de oro para un viaje en ascensor arriba. Navidad en octubre, Debería saber el día, chistes ha. Por la rampa viene la comida, Y la ropa, y el vino y cigarrillos. Su voz suave es la música, Llenar los ojos de lágrimas. Le digo a mi esposa saldré pronto, En contra de todos sus miedos. Espero pacientemente ahora por un día, pronto a venir, Por la libertad de este infierno es mi derecho divino. Subiré a partir de la celda de la cárcel de almizcle, Y, finalmente, abrir los ojos para ver la luz. |
| III. Back Again The rays of sun sting my eyes, Even through thick protective glasses. There are other lights I can see, Many media camera’s flashes. Fresh air to fill deflated lungs, My life and my future will here on in be bright. The chains of lost time fall to the ground, Everything will finally be alright. Free brand name clothes and 5,000 autographs, 33 medals of honor and a book and movie deal, Fame and fortune to last forever, These data crunching numbers are real. But as a lawsuit wanes, A lawsuit waxes. The perpetrators of my misfortune, Avoid paying anything but taxes. The media cameras have long since left, My fame and fortune cast away. Off to taunt another victim of disaster, Leaving this born-again atheist alone to pray. | III . Volver atrás otra vez Los rayos de sol pican los ojos, Incluso a través de los vidrios protectores gruesos. Hay otras luces que puedo ver, Muchos flashes de cámaras medios de comunicación. Aire fresco para llenar los pulmones desinflados, Mi vida y mi futuro aquí en adelante será brillante. Las cadenas del tiempo perdido caen al suelo, Todo va a estar bien finalmente. Libre de marca de ropa y 5.000 autógrafos, 33 medallas de honor y un acuerdo para un libro y de la película, La fama y la fortuna a durar para siempre, Estos datos crujido números son reales. Pero, como una demanda disminuye, Una demanda ceras. Los autores de mi desgracia, Evitar el pago de cualquier cosa menos impuestos. Las cámaras de los medios de comunicación hace tiempo que han dejado, Mi fama y fortuna echados fuera. Off para burlarse de otra de las víctimas de los desastres, Dejando este renacido ateo solo para orar. |
Next I decided to do some exploring with the actual “scene of the crime” in Copiapó, Chile. I wanted to capture the moment in a way that both encompassed the sad and stark reality of the trapped miners and the fanfare of excitement that emerged from the presence of the media. I decided to create an artistic impression of the scene in Adobe Illustrator, a vector based editing software. I composed each piece of the scene individually put them together to create my artwork. Each silhouette represents a different character in the tragedy and I hoped to encompass each personality accordingly. I also superimposed the names of the 33 trapped miners to give the viewer a sense that there were a lot of people trapped down there. The pile of pick-axes represents the hopelessness of the miners below. I left it as a PDF so one can zoom in and try to imagine each separate scene before looking at the grand picture. Because the image is vector based it won’t get pixelated when one zooms in!
For my final artistic interpretation of the event I turned to the crazy media coverage of the disaster. Fascinatingly, sickly really, there were dozens of brand name companies that vied for the ability to have the miners wear their clothes as they were rescued on camera on display for the world. Oakley won the right to give each miner a pair of their sunglasses to shield them from the sun; something the miners had not seen in 3 months and was feared to be too bright. Oakley reportedly received $41 million dollars in equivalent ad time on tv for giving each miner $450 dollar glasses. To think like the mind of the companies who exploited the miners for their own gain, I pretended to be a t-shirt retailer and make a few mock-ups of t-shirt designs that I could sell to the public similar to the “Boston Strong” or “United We Stand” shirts in the wake of other notable disasters.
Below is the first concept I designed. Again I left it as a PDF so one can zoom in and try to imagine each separate scene before looking at the grand picture. Because the image is vector based it won’t get pixelated when one zooms in!
Below is the second concept I designed. Again I left it as a PDF so one can zoom in and try to imagine each separate scene before looking at the grand picture. Because the image is vector based it won’t get pixelated when one zooms in!
I also have posted the artistic works of other people who tried to capture the scope of the disaster.
Below is a documentary made about the Chilean Miners and “Camp Hope,” the makeshift village that popped up around the site of the trapped miners filled with their families and friends.
Next is a poetry reading by Mick Terry who wrote and performed a poem called “If I Could Breathe” about the disaster.
Hernán Rivera Letelier, a Chilean writer and former miner, gave some words of wisdom for the miners:
“I hope that the avalanche of lights and cameras and flashes that is rushing towards you is a light one. It’s true that you’ve survived a long season in hell, but, when all’s said and done, it was a hell you knew. What’s heading your way, now, comrades, is a hell that you have not experienced at all: the hell of the show, the alienating hell of TV sets. I’ve only got one thing to say to you, my friends: grab hold of your family. Don’t let them go, don’t let them out of your sight, don’t waste them. Hold on to them as you hung on to the capsule that brought you out. It’s the only way to survive this media deluge that’s raining down on you.”
Lastly is this beautifully composed montage of the disaster from its beginning
Please check out below my website’s pages that were constructed to elaborate and elucidate more about the Chile Mine Disaster:
Home: Trapped Above and Below: Reflections on the Chile Mine Disaster
1. Who’s Who: Mining Ministers, Media Messengers and Mistresses Oh My
2. A Miner’s Life For Me (or not): A Glimpse into Before and After the Tragedy
4. Chain Reactions: The World’s Responses
5. Works Cited