objectified child, originally uploaded by naica.

So it has taken me a while to cobble some sort of critique of the Amazonia Brasil exhibit that’s down at the South Street Seaport now until July or something.
What can I say about it except it was a multi-media fiasco of diorama sized proportions. Literally. Dioramas your kid could probably make, though maybe not a detailed, proliferated throughout the large space as well as potted plants packed close together along thie sides of the river/forest-dioramaii. Ensconced within the lush-like confines of the foliage were card board cutouts of the Native peoples who were supposed to have been part of the whole shebang. At least according to a press release I had read on the Seaport website. Well, maybe they could get visas? I, for one, was diappointed. it truly was an under-whelming experience since I along with NAICA contributing writer and resident anthropologist, Logan Green paid $16.00 dollars to enter, but not before a vaguely Indian looking Latina prompted us to go all the way through to the back where the giftshop was located. Ahhh but of course there would be a giftshop! And come to find out this “giftshop” was really a separate store that sold trinkets and such purchased for pennies from the Native peoples of the beleaguered rainforest. It would probably not come as a surprise but that shit was expensive!
I bought a necklace.
I felt bad for ten minutes. It’s a pretty cool necklace made from some shell or another. I feel like an asshole. Worse than a tourist.
Anyway, a booze cruise (a cruise ship you pay to float around on and drink ’til you puke) had just docked to let off it’s white Jersey-drunk inhabitants who made idiotic comments about the jungle and their “jungle fever” which could only be squelched by more “jungle juice.”
Logan and I would later see this same group of morons getting even more drunk at a bar in the mall, also along Pier 17.
See how convenient it is to visit the Amazon, purchase some khaki shorts at Banana Republic and get drunk at a happy hour in one of several drinking establishments? Lower Manhattan Commercial developers have thought of nothing but your pleasure: conveniently located exoticism coupled with cheap alcohol and sweatshop attire = An all-American good time.

For more of the horrible exhibit visit our gallery page up top. If you have a conscience of any kind you will feel disgusted too.