On May 17, 1980, the day before Peru’s presidential elections, a group of armed men charged into the small town of Chuschi, in Ayacucho, and burned the ballot boxes that were to be given to voters the following day. No one could have imagined that this apparently isolated incident was the start of a reign of terror, during which death would become a daily event in the lives of Peruvians. The Communist Party of Peru, know as the Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path) and led by Abimael Guzmán, was the group primarily responsible for the carnage, with a ruthless obsession to build the “republic of the new democracy” in Peru. Funded largely by profits from drug trafficking, Shining Path held the country in its thrall, using terrorist tactics that were unspeakably brutal. Over the following twelve years, the level of violence in Peru escalated exponentially, with the involvement of other paramilitary organizations—the Tupac Amaru Revolutionary movement, the Rodrigo Franco Commandos, and the Grupo Colina among them—and with the counter-offensive efforts of Peru’s military forces. Finally, in 1992, Peru’s Special Intelligence Group captured Guzmán, toppling Shining Path’s power structure, which had depended heavily upon its leader. From that point, the violence began to subside. Appearances of Shining Path in Peru have since been sporadic—but the damage it has wrought on the Peruvian population is indelible.

In June 2001 the Comisión de la Verdad y Reconciliación (Truth and Reconciliation Commission, CVR) was established; its mission is to help clarify events that occurred during Peru’s internal armed conflict from 1980 until 2000. One of the results of CVR’s work was the photographic project titled “Yuyanapaq: Para Recordar”; yuyanapaq is from the Quecha language, meaning, “in order to remember.”

For over a year, a team of photography researchers traveled throughout Peru looking at over ninety archives that offered a visual panorama of the country’s recent violent history—archives of newspapers, agencies, family albums, churches, police and military institutions, and human-rights organizations. This search led to the creation of the CVR Image Bank, with more than 1,700 photographs. Curators Nancy Chappell and Mayu Mohanna organized an exhibition of 300 photographs from this bank, installed at the Casa Riva Agüero, a large house by the sea in Lima. The site was selected because it was in ruins—an appropriate setting for such imagery.

To read the full article “Yuyanapaq: In Order to Remember” and view the portfolio of images reproduced, click here to purchase Aperture Issue #183.

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The above text has been adapted from an essay by curators Nancy Chappell and Mayu Mohanna appearing in Aperture magazine, issue 183. Video footage: courtesy Chicho Durant

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