A place to begin. By Edgardo Civallero

1A place to begin

Welcome! My name is Edgardo Civallero. I write from the mist — from the cloud forest and páramo of Cundinamarca, Colombia. I'm a librarian, archivist, musician, writer, and visual artist — and work as a semantic consultant, researcher, editor, designer, speaker, teacher, naturalist, and memory weaver.

This site brings together my work across librarianship, archives, sound, visual arts, biology / ecology, and the stewardship of knowledge and memory — fields where information braids with silence, research touches rot, and musical instruments (and sometimes the puppets from my workshop) argue with metadata.

Use the sidebar to navigate by theme. Browse, read, wander. And if any thread hums back to you — write to me. May your path be a good one.


2Last Threads

Last Threads. By Edgardo Civallero

The Yam That Disappears

Published May 22, 2026

The latest post in my blog The Log of a Librarian, "The Yam That Disappears", explores ceremonial long yams among the Abelam people of Papua New Guinea as part of a broader reflection on documentary systems beyond writing and permanence. Examining ritual cultivation, cyclical memory, performative transmission, and intentional disappearance, the text argues that some forms of socially authoritative knowledge survive not through durable inscription, but through repetition, reactivation, and collective remembrance.


3Chronicles of Things Made

Chronicles of Things Made. By Edgardo Civallero

A log of recent writings, sounds, and gestures

Published May 17, 2026

Over the past days (May 04 to May 17), two texts have approached a shared structural problem from different terrains. One unfolds on the exposed bark and stone of Quisquiza; the other within the institutional systems that organize community memory. Together, they examine what happens when continuity depends not on simplification, but on the capacity to hold difference under pressure.

It begins with From Quisquiza (06): Lichen, a field note on life at the surface of exposure. Lichens persist where conditions are unstable, scarce, and abrasive. They are not single organisms in any simple sense, but long-term biological arrangements: fungi, photosynthetic partners, and associated microbial communities maintaining a shared structure without dissolving entirely into one another.

That same question reappears, under institutional pressure, in Decolonizing the Community-Centered Library. Here, the terrain is not ecological but documentary. Classification systems, authority control, standardized vocabularies, and documentary practices do not merely organize knowledge. They regulate what becomes legible, which names are accepted, which forms of evidence are recognized, and how community knowledge is translated into institutional terms.

Across both texts, stability does not emerge from purity, uniformity, or the removal of contradiction. It depends on structures capable of sustaining plurality without forcing it into a single form. In ecological systems, this appears as coexistence under exposure. In knowledge systems, it appears as the difficult work of allowing multiple languages, categories, memories, and authorities to remain active without being flattened into administrative clarity.

What emerges is not a metaphor between lichens and libraries, and not a general theory of cooperation. It is a displacement of attention. From coherence as simplification to coherence as negotiated coexistence. From stability as order to stability as an arrangement maintained under pressure. From systems that reduce difference to systems that remain strong enough to carry it.


4Coming Soon, If the Fog Allows

Coming Soon, If the Fog Allows. By Edgardo Civallero

Upcoming writings, events, and works-in-progress

Published April 21, 2026

Over the coming months, new threads will begin to surface here — if conditions allow.

One of them is the relaunch of Wayrachaki Editora, an independent imprint devoted to open-access digital books written from the margins: manuals, chronicles, and editorial texts on libraries in resistance, insurgent orality, fragile archives, and knowledge practices shaped by conflict, scarcity, and territory. The imprint resumes its work with the same nomadic spirit that first gave it form, publishing texts that would never survive academic vetting and were never meant to.

Another thread takes shape through Tela de Araña, a set of consulting and advisory services focused on semantic design, metadata systems, community archives, and knowledge infrastructures where conventional models fail. This work unfolds slowly and situationally, through accompaniment rather than solutions, and will be documented here as it happens.

Alongside these developments, the chronicles, notes, and essays will continue. Writing will keep moving between forests and libraries, between theory and ground, following questions as they arise rather than as they are planned. Nothing here is scheduled in advance. Some things will arrive quietly. Others may never appear.

Fog, after all, has its own timing.


5Collected Texts, Sounds & Traces

Collected Texts, Sounds & Traces. By Edgardo Civallero

Archive of published works and recorded materials

Published April 21, 2026

Over time, I have been reorgaizing my earlier publications into a structured archive. Texts once dispersed across journals, conferences, and digital platforms now inhabit defined sections that reflect the terrains from which they emerged. The archive currently includes Libraries from the South, Libraries in the Margins, Public Libraries, Librarianship and Research, and Digital Divide, alongside curated selections from Blog Bibliotecario, Bitácora de un bibliotecario, and the Princh Library Blog.

These sections are not a museum of completed work. They remain active spaces: updated, expanded, and occasionally recontextualized as questions evolve and threads reconnect. Together, they trace the long arc of a professional trajectory concerned with decolonial critique, marginal territories, institutional responsibility, technological inequality, documentary practice, and the politics of memory.

What appears in the present writing grows from those earlier layers. The archive is not a backdrop. It is the foundation.