The modernist experience in travels: some possibilities

Renata Oliveira Caetano [1]

CAETANO, Renata Oliveira. The modernist experience in travels: some possibilities. 19&20, Rio de Janeiro, v. X, n. 1, jan./jun. 2015. https://www.doi.org/10.52913/19e20.X1.05b [Português].

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1. The use of travel as a tool with which to reach the unknown was not necessarily a novelty in the 20th century. However, at that time, the initial strangeness the Europeans felt towards the Brazilian reality took on a new meaning, opening doors to the national manipulation by modernist artists and writers of the travelers’ code. Lopez points out that the fact that Mário de Andrade, Oswald de Andrade, Tarsila do Amaral and other artists went to Minas Gerais in 1924, “pushed the nationalistic project of our modernists towards maturity, so that the emphasis, which initially fell [...] on the aesthetic aspects of the works, could start [...] covering and developing the ideological project.”[2] The proposition of strengthening the notion of Brazil through travel accounts allowed concepts to circulate and gave access to the views and thoughts of some narrators, who were often more concerned with commenting than attempting to render a truthful description of the Brazilian diversity.

2. Sometimes we can see their parameters define the type of understanding they have - or want to have - about the Other. In this regard, it should be stressed that, when it comes to the study of these travel accounts and images, we also enter the realm of their author’s subjectivity. Thus, understanding the filter that decodes the reality they got in touch with allows for a better understanding of the type of construct they intended to produce.

3. Taking an interdisciplinary constructive perspective between art and literature in the analysis of these images or accounts, the present paper aims to observe two specific productions from the 1920’s that take travel as a starting point, but offer more than just the traveler’s perspective: Quelques visages de Paris, by Vicente do Rego Monteiro, and O turista aprendiz, by Mário de Andrade. What these two works have in common is the fictionalization of information, as if they wanted to adopt and incorporate the elaboration of possible readings of Brazil without any real commitment to the truth.

4. As for the authors, we have on the one side Vicente do Rego Monteiro, an artist born in Recife in 1899. He went to Europe at an early age and received most of his education in France. In 1913, he established contact with painters like Modigliani, Léger, Miró, Gleizes, Metzinger, among others. The First World War forced his family to return to Brazil, where the artist took residence first in Recife, where he started working and exhibiting his work. In 1920, he promoted an itinerant exhibition in Recife, São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, with drawings and watercolors inspired by Amazonian legends. At this point, he had the support of Monteiro Lobato, despite other critics had labeled him a “futurist”. His stylized figuration - which highly pleased Lobato - established a dialogue with the first movements among Brazilian intellectuals, who aimed at building what they understood as a modern space. The itinerant exhibition allowed the artist to be introduced to the organizers of the Semana de Arte Moderna (Modern Art Week) through the poet and writer Ronald de Carvalho. According to Zanini,[3] "European values assimilated between 1911 and 1914 from Impressionism and Cubism resonated [in those works], side by side with oriental graphic art and the autochthonous culture of the country." Vicente do Rego Monteiro sent some works to the Semana de Arte Moderna in 1922, but left Brazil before the event. In Paris, between 1921 and 1925, in addition to producing visual arts, he also devoted himself to illustration. His work that most interests us in the present text belongs to this phase.

5. On the other side, we have Mário de Andrade, who had already written a book and some texts when he met Oswald de Andrade and Anita Malfatti in 1917. From that moment onwards, he expanded his range of activities, since, in addition to writing, he started collaborating with some magazines and newspapers from São Paulo; this is also the time when he started his visual arts collection. He participated in the Semana de Arte Moderna in 1922, reading his poems on the stage of the Municipal Theatre of São Paulo, and thereafter, he became a member of the “Grupo dos Cinco” (Groupf of Five) along with Anita Malfatti, Oswald de Andrade, Tarsila do Amaral, and Menotti del Picchia. In the same year, he launched Pauliceia desvairada, one of the milestones of modern Brazilian literature. Consolidated as one of the mentors of national modernism, he worked on several fronts: politics, arts, education, culture, and the press, to name a few.

6. His distinctive influence on the Brazilian cultural context had a clear target: to define the national identity based on the appreciation of the artistic and cultural manifestations of the country. The positioning delineated by the ideas he expressed not only in texts and books, but also in person and by correspondence, is important for later developments in Brazilian artistic trends. His rhetorical power places him among the most important Brazilian intellectuals, and many of his ideas and opinions reverberate to this day. 

The case of the cultured savage: critical reflections on the Parisian civilization

7. Imagine the following situation: a Brazilian indian, the chief of a tribe, travels incognito to Paris, where he gets in touch with local art and culture. He observes the environment and returns to his oca (traditional house), describing and commenting on what he saw in the form of short poems and illustrations. In order to disseminate his findings, he shares his views on the City of Lights with a Brazilian artist, giving him the responsibility for publicizing his peculiar work.

8. If this story were true, it would strike us as rather curious, since the indian would have gone from being the object of observation to being the observer of other people’s exoticism. Furthermore, it promotes a kind of trip that is substantially different from those occurred in the 16th century, when some Brazilian indians were taken to the French court to serve as samples of the exoticism of the people encountered in the new land. Ginzburg points out that 

9. In his essay On Cannibals, Montaigne spoke with incredulous stupor of the accounts about Brazilian indians, whose peaceful and guileless life seemed to revive the ancient myths of the golden age. However, at the end of the essay, he takes the reader abruptly back to Europe. Montaigne tells the story of three Brazilian indians who had been taken to France. When asked about what had impressed them most, they mentioned two facts. First of all, that adult and armed individuals (the Swiss Guard) obeyed the orders of a boy (the King of France), instead of appointing a real chief. Secondly, they "realized that among us there were men who owned all kinds of riches, while half of all men were begging at the doors of the rich ones, stunted by hunger and poverty; they thought it was strange that these people in need could tolerate such injustice, and not grab the others by the collar, or set their houses on fire.[4]

10. Like Montaigne, Vicente do Rego Monteiro delights himself with the reputed ingenuity of the indians, and, based on "his attachment to the country's reality,"[5] he creates a story that not only manipulates the legacy of memories bequeathed by foreign travelers in Brazil associated to indians and their traditions–which are portrayed differently than usual - but also, due to this reversal of viewpoints, helps to promote a deep reflection on the question of civilization / barbarism. To reach this goal, he takes up the standpoint of someone who, for the Europeans, has limited views on life in general. In this sense, Ginzburg highlights that "not understanding, being naive, getting amazed, are all reactions that can lead us to seeing further, grasping something deeper, closer to nature."[6] In the case reported by Montaigne, the author also points out that "the indians, unable to perceive the obvious, had seen something that is often concealed by habit and convention.”[7]

11. The artist approaches the indigenous theme at a time when it was discredited as a symbol of national representations in art. Based on Ginzburg’s reflections, we can infer that this choice, at first sight a deviation from the imagetical concepts of this period, is not random. If, on the one hand, it establishes a dialogue with the repertoire of the artist, who, despite his European education, never forgot his Brazilian roots, laid outside of the Rio de Janeiro-São Paulo axis; on the other hand, his character - the indian travelever - is completely capable of promoting this interpretive reversal richly orchestrated by Monteiro. However, Brazilian critics from that period did not see this fact as negative, and even highlighted how the artist would have "embellished" the indians, presenting them without the "ugliness usually attributed to the inhabitants of the jungle,"[8] and recognized his attempts to approximate the truth, commenting that the artist had "created his own set of endogenous representations".[9]

12. The hypothesis could be advanced that, even for Brazilians, the indian traveler is the Other; or one might analyze how the foreign gaze had influenced ours, having even been taken as a parameter, like it is the case with Vicente do Rego Monteiro, who had himself been inspired by Johan Moritz Rugendas and Jean-Baptiste Debret. However, research based on eclectic interests - Marajoara culture, Art Deco, Cubism and Japanese engravings - gives birth in 1925 to the quite unique narrative Quelques visages de Paris, in which an important representative of those who were often the focal point of travelers who passed through Brazil - the indian - takes the reverse route. He leaves the role of a transcendental and ethnographical object and instead takes up the role of a trailblazer, who filters every encounter with his object of interest, narrating what his gaze could capture. But what would an indian see in Paris?

13. Ginzburg points out that “in order to see things we must, at first, look at them as if they made no sense."[10] What this author labels as the "corrosive powers of strangeness"[11] seems to be the starting point of the work of Vicente do Rego Monteiro, who uses the notes of the imagined trip to reinterpret the idea of primitivism. From these notes emerge ten images of sights and short poems about the following places in Paris: the Notre Dame Cathedral, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre Museum, the Austerlitz Bridge, the Passy Bridge, the Sacre Coeur Basilica, the Place de la Concorde, the Trocadéro, the Jardin des Plantes Botanical Garden and the Arc de Triomphe. There is a clear critical approach to the representation of the indian in the context of travels. The principles on which rests Quelques visages de Paris, as most of Vicente do Rego Monteiro's work, is different from that of the first travelers who, when in contact with indians, emphasized the exotic. The documental catalog produced by these travalers perceive reality through many layers of interpretive filters often built on old allegories. Similarly, in academic art one will find a historical indian that is not closely related to the real indian or his canons. The work presented hereby addresses the incorporation of the indian, freeing him from the marginal position imposed by modern art. However, we cannot forget that this is a different indian: created to give voice to criticism and to the restrictions that civilization may have when observed from the primitive’s point of view. At the same time, an exercise is proposed of doing to the Other what has constantly been done to us for years. In this sense, Ginzburg notes that, in the context of strangeness, "the reader is involved in a cognitive effort that transforms the implicit conclusion in a kind of prize. The effect, both artistic and rhetorical, is infinitely stronger".[12]

14. A case in point would be the comment made by the indian in 1925, when standing before the Trocadéro - a place that housed some cultural institutions, including the Museum of Ethnography: “The house of the great warrior / Judging by his trophies, / he is very competent in the art of embalming and stuffing the heads and bodies of his enemies / it was with great / pain in my heart that / I saw my ancestors in such strange positions." Civilization is put in check when we see the "savage" finding it strange that the white man would exhibit men as objects of study of the so-called primitive. To Squeff, 

15. Here, for the first time, the text puts the Europeans in direct opposition to indians explicitly, not only evoking the colonization process, but also reversing one of the great discourses that supported it - the civilizing process. [The] "trophies" brought by the Europeans from their incursions in the American territory constitute evidence of the destruction to which the indians were submitted. If the Europeans also appropriate themselves of the bodies of their enemies, exposing them to anyone willing to see them, where is civilization?[13]

16. For the indian, it is just as strange to see the stuffed bodies of his ancestors as it is to see animals in a cage. In Jardin des Plantes, he ascertains: "I wonder how they got there. Maybe with Noah's Ark, where animals lived in harmony. But one thing breaks my spirit: that there are bars separating them." Once again the interpretive filter guides the gaze to what seems incoherent and uncivilized in the behavior of the Other.

17. Here we see "strangeness [being used] as a means to look beyond appearances and achieve a deeper understanding of reality."[14] These two passages of Quelques Visages de Paris show an intelligent inversion of discourses, where civilization and barbarism face each other like in a game of mirrors in which the projections show an unexpected sense of primitivism on the one hand, and the violence of the Europeans on the other. A game which does not intend to establish who is right or wrong, but simply to promote a moment of suspension in which the practices of the travelers can be reflectively revisited.

Mário de Andrade’s etnographic journeys: paths to interpreting the Brazilian indian

18. In 1927, Mário de Andrade decides to investigate some places of a distant Brazil that differed from his reality in São Paulo. On that which may be understood as the cover of the original manuscripts of O turista aprendiz, he writes, in brackets: "Trip through the Amazon River to Peru, through the Madeira River to Bolivia, around Marajó, until I get enough."[15] At first, there was a large group of Modernists who were interested in this incursion, but after a great confusion when boarding, only Olivia Guedes Penteado, her niece Daisy Nogueira and Dulce Guedes Pinto do Amaral decided to go. In the writer’s words, "we were a group of friends from São Paulo, eager to get to know "other Brazils", traveling each on their own, out of vanity or for the pleasure of meeting new things."[16]

19. Although upset for being the only man in the group, the writer embarks on the trip, convinced that such fact would not hinder his greatest intent: to narrate facts about the journey in a diary, which later would become a book. The proposal for adopting an "ethnographic perspective", based mainly on data collection, came from Mario's commitment "to understand the Brazilian reality within the Latin American context, and to establish [...] coordinates of a national culture, taking folklore and popular culture as tools for learning about its people."[17]

20. However, even though their approach and experiences were legitimately narrated by Mário de Andrade in his writings, we cannot ignore that his view is not completely free from previous codes. Perhaps this may be exemplified by the first entry of the diary, dated May 7, 1927: 

21. Departure from São Paulo. I bought a huge walking cane made of "canna indica", what nonsense! I must have been afraid of indians ... I am well aware that this trip of ours does not offer any adventure or danger, but each one of us have not only a logical conscience, but also a poetic one. I was impeled to reminiscences from my readings more by savage tribes, alligators, and big ants than by the truth. And my holy little soul imagined: cannons, guns, walking canes, pocket knives. And chose the walking cane.[18]

22. It can be noticed that, even before embarking, the writer already shows, with a dash of humor, that his understanding of indians is directly linked to the countless travel accounts that circulated in and out of Brazil since its discovery. However, a month into his journey, Mário de Andrade takes a picture of a group of Tapuia women in the city of Parintins, which is quite distinct from the Tapuia figure painted by Albert Eckhout in 1641, for instance, a work which, curiously enough, was seen by some scholars as possessing some kind of ethnographic intent. According to Lopez 

23. Mário de Andrade is a meticulous apprentice in his photographic records; he makes a point of writing captions and carefully squeezes his words on the back of the pictures that are mostly fairly small (6 x 3.7cm). In the captions of the images of the Amazon, his concern is not only to provide data on the captured scene, but also to make a poetic presentation, often punctuated by a good sense of humour.[19]

24. Thus, the imagetic and conceptual distance separating the imagined indian from the real one produces a shock between Mário de Andrade's expectations on his first day of travel and the truth he faced very early in the journey. In an attempt to, like a scale, weigh what he sees and feels against what emerges from reality, sometimes the writer speaks higher volumes and models his experiences poetically, as noted by Lopez: 

25. the diary, whose aspiration to travel narratives aimed at not missing out on the weight of an impressionistic view, was able to combine factual reference and poetry, transforming the experience (that which is felt, thought, biographical - or, in short, real) into a text with artistic purposes [...]. Due to the hybrid nature of the genre - the confessional tone of the diary and the reference to facts about the trip - there are still traces from reality, even if passed through an artistic filter, but on their side, firmly, stands fiction, which keeps on intruding.[20]

26. Thus, it is important to highlight a few passages in his writings in which fiction and reality are confronted. This can be exemplified by the impressions recorded about the magnitude of the landscapes. In one such entry, dated May 19 and made in the city of Belém, the author writes that "the estuary of the Amazon River is one of such great greatness that it overwhelms the physiological perceptions of man. [...] The Amazon proves decisively that monotony is one of the greatest elements of the sublime."[21] The landscape, a highly frequent element of our iconography, highlighted both by foreign and Brazilian artists from different periods, is emphasized by the author, who describes something that many others had tried to portray.

27. Some moments that also deserve special attention are those in which the Brazilian people was the object of the writer's curiosity. His notes from May 20 say: 

28. It is interesting that, although we know we are in Brazil, there is a fantastic feeling of being in Cairo. I don't know why ... Mango trees, there are no mango trees in Cairo, boiling off in the streets ... There is no one there walking around with a peccary in a collar...[22]

29. Peculiarities of a Brazil that is very distant from Mario de Andrade’s native São Paulo. We feel a certain strangeness with things that do not conform to social standards. One example is the behavior of indian women observed on June 4 in comparison with that of women from the big cities: “What we really need to praise in these low-class indians from Amazonia is the discreet, but uninhibited elegance with which they are naked, what a difference from civilized women!”[23] We see the "appropriate" confronted face to face with the ”scandalous" when it comes to female nudity; however, here the Other is something more appealing to the writer than the standardized and civilized experience of big urban centers. On the opposite side, the typical behavior of Brazilians in relation to the trade of indigenous articles annoys him, as we see in this entry from August 1st:

30. Brazil's lack of organization is such that all the indigenous articles sold in the market of Belem are genuine. They are all quite ugly, worthless and worn-out. It still hasn’t occurred to anyone that it is by falsifying that we increase the value of these objects, not only making better and more beautiful items than the originals made by the indians, but also increasing the value of the originals, once they become something genuine and rare. And a certificate of authenticity turning a fake into a legitimate item. Well, the value of something never resides in the truth, but in its legitimacy, don’t you agree? I am not sure if I do, but since it’s already written, let it be. Let's put it down to the national disorganization.[24]

31. We can clearly see here that Mário de Andrade defends that which is fabricated, even though this is not the correct thing to do. There are some interesting remarks coming straight from the fantastic world that unfolds in the imagination of the writer, who describes some dreams he had in the beginning of his trip:

32. I dreamed the following:

33. Very carefully, I wrote a speech in Tupi to greet everyone, when we were among indians. We found a whole tribe at the estuary of the Madeira River, they even had a scribe and a justice of the peace in case I wanted to make a complaint if someone bothered the Queen of Coffee. I recited my speech, which, by the way, was short. But from the beginning, the indians started looking at each other withholding laughter. I soon thought it had been useless, and they had a huge urge to eat us all. But this was not actually the case: when I finished the speech, they all began to shout:

34. It’s wrong! It’s wrong![25]

35. The first visit to an isolated indigenous tribe is recorded in a mix of fact and fiction. The visit to the unknown and isolated Pacaás Novos tribe took place on June 8 and, according to the description, it was "a rather peculiar community for their habits and customs."[26] The records describe a silent tribe, which forbade not only using your voice, but also showing your ears and mouth to people. Therefore, they were completely covered at the top of their bodies and uncovered at the bottom, and used a series of leg movements to replace speech expressively. Mario highlights how dirty it was all around the tribe, because the indians defecated just anywhere; the narrative of their wedding ceremonies; the way they ate, hiding from other people; and the case of a dancer who entertained men in a kind of obscene show, completely dressed but exposing her mouth, singing Neapolitan songs and who was, in revenge, eaten up by other indian women of the tribe.

36. Encountering indians with such curious customs instigates more and more the fictional narrative of the writer, who, twenty days later, still seems uncomfortable with the issue of the indians - or the Other - and points out: 

37. I believe that, on the indians I encountered, who have a distinct morality from ours, I can write a humouristic monograph, a satire on scientific explorations, ethnography and social matters. It will be rich in humourous creations, saying that instead of communicating with their feet and legs, like the ones I had seen [...] they ascribed an intellectual sense to musical sounds and a merely aesthetic value to articulated sounds and words.[27]

38. So did the "Do-Mi-Sol" tribe come into being, subverting the natural order of the diary which, as a hybrid genre, should let facts outweigh fiction. In this particular episode, these indians would be a creation based on Mário's interpretation of the savage, and the tribe would have a complex form of musical communication, which was not common even in the so-called civilized areas. What Mario calls ”pure fiction” is an attempt to  describe the place where they lived (in the upper reaches of the Madeira River), their physiology, ceremonies, relationships, religion, philosophy, legends, etc. Later on, there are four passages in the diary, told as if they had really happened, describing their fantasy-filled everyday life. Almost one month later, when there are hardly any passages regarding this tribe, he writes: ”There is no mayor in Monte Alegre. But there is the ‘nhã Marta’ rain that has learned my name and repeats it over and over like a song, like the Do-Mi-Sol indians, who no longer interest me."[28]

39. The trip continues until August 15, 1927, and Mario keeps interested in the differences "between the known world of the Europeanized native of São Paulo and the tropical world visited, [making] fiction explicit [...]. Thus, he does not dilute his uniqueness in the pictoresque, for he is not an enraptured spectator, but a creator able to critically understand reality."[29] This reality is filled with encounters: with 3.20 meter-long moths, water lilies, dolphins and manatees, counting even on the visit of Iara, who welcomes him, showing all the magnitude of a Brazil made of elements too complex to be properly narrated precisely as they had been seen.

Conclusion

40. Both works present images related to America. In the work of Vicente do Rego Monteiro, an "Amerique" that overpowers one of the great French symbols: the Arc de Triomphe. In O turista aprendiz, on the other hand, according to Lopez,

41. The pencil sketch made by Mario is a woman's head with indigenous features, but crowned according to European style, with a tiny crown pending to the side, a modest ornament which contrasts with the severity of her face. The base shows the name "America", like in the plaques found on the sculptures of public squares. The intention of decorating the folder that would contain the original manuscripts leads us to the hypothesis that the drawing might have been devised as a draft for the cover of a book, although the author's name is omitted. Undoubtedly, the drawing illustrates the idea of America expressed in the text: the tropical element turns grotesque due to the inadequacy of European elements being applied to it.[30]

42. When in contact with these different productions, we realize how the travelers' ideas are unfolded in a peculiar way in artistic / literary works of the 20th century. Squeff points out that Quelques visages de Paris is a "reflection not only on European culture and its impasses, or on Brazilian culture, but also on the relationships between them."[31] This intermediate space among different forms of poetry is an important realm for thinking about the Other, who can be found both in Paris and in Brazil.

43. This game of inversions makes the superior position, at first assumed by the Europeans, be gradually deconstructed and critically transformed. Ginzburg observes it well: "I think that feeling of strangeness is the effective antidote against a risk to which we are all exposed: trivializing reality."[32] Thus, these made up realities shorten distances and, ultimately, intend to make a "We" emerge from within the discourses. At the beginning of his trip, Mário de Andrade says that

44. We are proud to be the only big (big?) tropical civilized country ... This is our flaw, our impotence. We should think, feel like the Indians, the Chinese, the people from Benin, from Java ... Maybe then we could create our own culture and civilization. At least we would be more like ourselves, I am sure.[33]

45. The poetic universe present in each of these routes, partially or totally fictionalized, helps to deconstruct the general reading of the relationship between that which is savage and that which is civilized, demonstrating that barriers can be much more tenuous than they appear to be. At the same time, we realize that the richness of the journey is not in the truthful account of the events, but between the lines of the individual understanding of the traveler.

References

ANDRADE, Mário. O turista aprendiz. Telê Porto Ancona Lopez (org.). São Paulo: Duas Cidades, Secretaria de Cultura, Ciência e Tecnologia, 1976. 

GUINZBURG, Carlo. Olhos de Madeira: nove ensaios sobre a distância. São Paulo: Companhia das Letras, 2001. 

SQUEFF, Letícia C. Paris sob o olho selvagem: Quelques Visages de Paris, by Vicente do Rego Monteiro. In: MIYOSHI, Alex (Org.). Anais do Seminário: O selvagem e o civilizado nas artes, fotografia e literatura no Brasil. Campinas: Art History and Archaeology Center, History Graduation Program - IFCH, 2010. 

ZANINI, Walter. Vicente do Rego Monteiro - Artist and Poet - 1899-1970. São Paulo: Marigo, 1997. 

English translation by Ricky Toledano e Liane Sarmento

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[1] PPGartes/Universidade do Estado do Rio de Janeiro.

[2] LOPEZ, Telê Porto Ancona (org.). O Turista Aprendiz. São Paulo: Duas Cidades, Secretaria de Cultura, Ciência e Tecnologia, 1976, p.16.

[3] ZANINI, Walter. Vicente do Rego Monteiro - Artista e Poeta 1899-1970. São Paulo: Marigo, 1997, p. 107.

[4] GUINZBURG, Carlo. Olhos de Madeira: nove ensaios sobre a distância. São Paulo: Companhia das Letras, 2001, pp. 28-29.

[5] ZANINI, op. cit., p. 66.

[6] GINZBURG, op. cit., p. 29.

[7] Ibidem.

[8] Published in O País mentioned by Zanini, 1997.

[9] ZANINI, op. cit., p. 80.

[10] GINZBURG, 2001, p. 22.

[11] Ibidem, p. 30.

[12] Ibidem, p. 31.

[13] SQUEFF, Letícia C. Paris sob o olho selvagem: Quelques Visages de Paris, de Vicente do Rego Monteiro. In: MIYOSHI, Alex (Org.). Anais do Seminário: O selvagem e o civilizado nas artes, fotografia e literatura no Brasil. Campinas: Centro de História da Arte e Arqueologia, Programa de Graduação em História do IFCH, 2010, pp. 12-13.

[14] GINZBURG, op. cit., p. 36.

[15] ANDRADE, Mário. O turista aprendiz. Telê Porto Ancona Lopez (org.). São Paulo: Duas Cidades, Secretaria de Cultura, Ciência e Tecnologia, 1976, p. 50.

[16] ANDRADE, op. cit., p. 150.

[17] LOPEZ, Telê Porto Ancona (org.). O Turista Aprendiz. São Paulo: Duas Cidades, Secretaria de Cultura, Ciência e Tecnologia, 1976, p. 15.

[18] ANDRADE, op. cit., p. 51.

[19] LOPEZ, op. cit., p. 22.

[20] Ibidem, p. 31.

[21] ANDRADE, op. cit., p. 61.

[22] Ibidem, p. 62.

[23] Ibidem, p. 82.

[24] Ibidem, p. 183.

[25] Ibidem, p. 56.

[26] Ibidem, p. 15.

[27] Ibidem, p. 127.

[28] Ibidem, p. 168.

[29] LOPEZ, 1976, p. 42.

[30] Ibidem,  p. 25.

[31] SQUEFF, op. cit., p. 23.

[32] GUINZBURG, op. cit., p. 41.

[33] ANDRADE, op. cit., p. 61.