Step into a realm alive with rhythmic enchantment, arcane disguises, and deeply rooted rites, where tradition meets transcendence in the Carnival festivals captured through the perceptive eye of Jason Gardner. His compelling book We the Spirits is a mesmerizing exploration of ancient masquerades and ceremonial performances across fifteen countries, cultivated over a transformative fifteen-year period. Eschewing the glitter of commercial spectacles and choreographed parades, Gardner pursued the lesser-seen corners of the world, where Carnival is still revered as a ritual of passage, memory, and identity.
From snow-covered villages in Eastern Europe to the lush hillsides of Latin America, Gardner chronicled moments that reveal the haunting beauty and cultural resilience within each celebration. These are not simply gatherings of costumed revelers, but immersive expressions of centuries-old heritage, evoking themes of survival, spirit, and metamorphosis. Each frame serves not merely as an image but as a spiritual document, unveiling the inner architecture of communities that use celebration as a conduit for remembering and becoming.
Echoes of the Ancients: Rediscovering the Primordial Pulse of Carnival
The inception of We the Spirits traces back to Jason Gardner’s extended engagement with the northeastern territory of Brazil, particularly the vibrant state of Pernambuco. Immersed in a region celebrated for its rich folkloric heritage and syncretic traditions, Gardner uncovered a deeper dimension of Carnival—far removed from commercial festivities or modern tourism. What began as an initial visual inquiry transformed into a sustained, visceral relationship with the region, rooted in lived experience and mutual respect.
Unlike fleeting documentarians, Gardner returned to Pernambuco repeatedly, drawn into the heartbeat of its seasonal masquerades, its earth-toned music, and its symbolic rituals. These events, woven with intricate layers of song, satire, spirituality, and resistance, embodied a cultural practice that could not be understood from a distance. His work there moved beyond observation into what might be called cultural listening—an intuitive and reverent engagement with a living tradition.
When political constraints and logistical challenges disrupted travel to Brazil, Gardner did not pause the journey. Instead, he began seeking related expressions of masquerade culture elsewhere, intuitively following thematic and spiritual threads. His curiosity took him to Trinidad and Tobago, home to one of the world’s most iconic Carnival traditions. In Port of Spain’s vibrant streets, Carnival emerged as a palimpsest of emancipation, with costumes, calypso, and satire continuing to carry the weight of colonial histories and communal resilience.
From the tropics of the Caribbean, his exploration moved northward into the evocative landscapes of Louisiana. There, in Cajun country, Gardner encountered the rural tradition of Courir de Mardi Gras—a raucous, ritual-laden event combining medieval pageantry, Catholic influence, and localized folklore. These American expressions, though distant from Brazil, shared an emotional resonance—revelation through disguise, order through chaos, and ritual as remembrance.
Upon relocating to Europe, Gardner discovered a mosaic of ancient masquerades thriving across mountain hamlets and medieval villages. In Slovenia, Sardinia, the highlands of Portugal, and the snow-draped valleys of Austria, Carnival is not a celebration—but a rite. Each region manifested its own vernacular—animalistic garb, wooden masks, primeval chants, and elaborate processions—yet all were underscored by a commitment to ancestral continuity. The recurring themes of fertility, seasonal transition, and collective purification permeated the ceremonies he witnessed, suggesting an ancient, archetypal pulse that transcended borders.
What Gardner revealed through this expansive journey was not just the geographical diversity of Carnival but its emotional and symbolic universality. Beneath the surface revelry lies a timeless drama: humanity confronting nature, mortality, and transformation through sacred play.
Ritual Keepers: Collaborating with Custodians of Culture
Central to the authenticity and depth of We the Spirits is the trust built with cultural custodians—those who have lived these traditions not as performance, but as inheritance. Gardner did not work in isolation or impose an outsider’s lens. Instead, he cultivated meaningful connections with local historians, ritual participants, and ethnographers who had long committed themselves to the protection of intangible cultural heritage.
These collaborations proved indispensable. In Galicia, where Carnival customs are fiercely protected, Gardner relied on local scholars to trace the roots of Entroido—a celebration rich in symbolism and animated by the presence of masked figures known as Pantallas. In Slovenia, village elders guided him through labyrinthine traditions that had survived both imperial dominion and ideological suppression.
Through these relationships, Gardner received more than historical data—he was welcomed into ceremonial spaces often inaccessible to outsiders. He learned when to stand back and when to engage, how to read the silences between rituals, and how to recognize the subtle codes embedded in costume and gesture. This reciprocity—between observer and observed, visitor and host—allowed for a more nuanced expression of cultural truth.
Rather than romanticizing or dissecting the rituals, Gardner chose to absorb them on their own terms. He walked alongside torchbearers at midnight, shared communal meals after processions, and watched as ordinary villagers underwent profound metamorphosis. By embedding himself within the fabric of the event—not above or apart from it—he captured moments that radiated intimacy, immediacy, and reverence.
The respect with which Gardner approached these interactions enriched the project and elevated its resonance. It ensured that each portrayal within We the Spirits reflected not only external beauty but internal meaning—moments held in balance between the visible and the symbolic, the modern and the mythic.
The Masquerade as Myth Reborn
Across diverse geographies and spiritual frameworks, one element remained a constant in the rituals Gardner encountered: transformation. The act of masking, of becoming ‘other,’ lies at the heart of Carnival’s cultural significance. These were not mere disguises or ornamental flourishes—they were portals. Masks enabled participants to shed the constraints of the everyday and momentarily become embodiments of archetypes, spirits, beasts, or ancestral forces.
In Sardinia’s Nuoro region, figures such as Mamuthones and Issohadores move with solemn, rhythmic gravity, clad in furs and blackened faces, rattling heavy cowbells as they weave through village streets. These figures, both feared and revered, act as intermediaries between the human and the elemental. Gardner captured these moments with haunting clarity—not staging them, but catching them mid-ritual, when the person beneath the mask had disappeared entirely into myth.
Elsewhere, in France’s Pyrenees, participants in the Fête de l’Ours described their experience in mystical terms. One man, covered in oil and fur, stated that once in costume, “I don’t know what happens… I go into this other space.” Such statements are not poetic exaggerations—they echo the universal experience of trance found in ancient rites from every corner of the globe.
Gardner’s chronicling of these transformations isn’t merely visual—it’s narrative. The weight of tradition, the arc of storytelling through costume, the unspoken vocabulary of gestures all coalesce into a deeper mythology. These masquerades are not relics—they are rebirths, renewing ancient tales in modern form, living mythologies set in motion each winter.
Sacred Disguise and Collective Catharsis
Mask and costume hold the symbolic weight of a community’s psyche. What may seem theatrical to an outsider is, for many, a sacred second skin. The materials used—sheepskin, straw, bark, soot, feathers, horns—are not randomly chosen. They are steeped in regional meaning, pulled from the earth itself, and imbued with power over generations.
In many cases, participants prepare their costumes by hand, often using designs passed down from parent to child. The act of dressing is itself ritualistic: a slow transformation that invokes not vanity but spirit possession. It is here that Gardner often faced one of his greatest ethical dilemmas—when to document and when to step back. In numerous communities, individuals asked not to be seen until the transformation was complete. Their liminal state—the sacred in-between—was not for public eyes.
Gardner’s decision to honor these wishes reflected the ethos of the entire project. He did not aim to deconstruct or expose, but to witness. In doing so, he was able to show the profound duality of Carnival: it is at once an explosion of color and noise, and a deeply intimate practice of self-erasure and ancestral embodiment.
Interconnected Narratives in a Fractured World
One of the most striking revelations of We the Spirits is how interconnected human traditions truly are. While the costumes and chants differ, the intentions echo across continents. Whether in Austria’s wooden-masked processions or in Slovenia’s folkloric dances, Gardner observed the same symbolic architecture: winter must die, spring must be reborn. Chaos must be confronted, and harmony restored.
This universal structure points to something beyond culture—a human instinct toward ritual, toward collective storytelling as a means of survival. It’s this instinct that unites disparate peoples and preserves their heritage in an age of digital noise and cultural dilution.
Gardner’s work asks us to consider not only the diversity of Carnival but its shared emotional vocabulary. These ceremonies are mnemonic devices encoded in fabric and fire. They remind communities who they are, even when modern life seeks to make them forget.
The Role of Slowness and Silence
Integral to the spirit of We the Spirits is Gardner’s method—quiet, slow, respectful. In an era dominated by speed and spectacle, he chose stillness. By using slow film processes and engaging with subjects over time, he created space for authenticity to emerge. This slowness mirrored the festivals themselves, many of which unfold over hours or even days, building momentum through collective anticipation.
There is a kind of sacred patience required to understand Carnival at this level—one that cannot be rushed or commodified. Gardner’s willingness to wait, to observe, and to listen without demanding to interpret everything, allowed for a kind of cultural fluency few achieve. In this way, We the Spirits becomes not just a collection of cultural observations, but a meditation on how we observe.
A Call to Preserve, Remember, and Reimagine
At its core, We the Spirits is not merely a study of seasonal festivals; it is a call to remember the power of ritual in shaping human identity. Jason Gardner has not only documented disappearing traditions—he has illuminated the vitality and urgency within them. In capturing these masquerades in their natural environments, he reminds us that heritage is not a museum artifact—it is alive, transforming with every chant, every footstep, every mask tied behind a head.
In a world increasingly disconnected from origin and ritual, Gardner’s work is a crucial reminder: we are not only products of the present but inheritors of long-forgotten songs. Carnival, in its rawest form, is not entertainment—it is an invocation. It is humanity remembering itself.
Profound Moments Across the Carnival Landscape
In his extensive journey exploring the soul of Carnival, Jason Gardner encountered a vast array of cultural expressions, but certain regions left an indelible imprint—places where the rituals felt especially evocative and deeply woven into the collective memory of the people. Among these, the Iberian Peninsula stood out as a wellspring of ancestral tradition. Northern Spain and Portugal, cradled in rugged mountains and isolated valleys, safeguard some of the most compelling and symbolically layered Carnival customs in Europe.
In Galicia, masked figures known as Peliqueiros or Pantallas storm the cobbled streets with a jangle of cowbells and wild theatrics. These characters, born of agrarian myth and moral allegory, confront villagers and visitors alike in a spirited play of chaos and discipline. Their grotesque masks and embroidered regalia do more than entertain; they recall older notions of the social order, balance between good and evil, and the need for seasonal renewal.
In neighboring Cantabria, Gardner attended La Vijanera, a striking and spiritually charged festival held annually on the first Sunday of January. More than 150 community members assume roles as beasts, spirits, jesters, and guardians, acting out a cosmological drama that pits the old year against the new. This rite of passage is both ceremonial and carnivalesque, where symbolic battles unfold in snow-covered meadows, echoing ancient tales of survival, rebirth, and agrarian hope.
Sardinia, an island of mystic undercurrents and cultural preservation, also opened its ceremonial doors. In the remote villages of Nuoro, Gardner was drawn into the world of Mamuthones and Issohadores—characters who move solemnly under heavy, archaic costumes. Their rhythmic processions, punctuated by deep bell tones and primal gestures, suggest not merely tradition, but invocation. These rituals channel ancient energies tied to the earth and ancestral protection, blurring the boundary between the living and the spectral.
Equally impactful was Gardner’s time in Slovenia, a land small in size yet profound in ritual diversity. There, the celebration of pust manifests in myriad ways across its dispersed hamlets and alpine towns. In places like Cerkno, Ptuj, and Dreznica, villagers embody elemental forces in fur-covered disguises, wielding branches or bells as they expel winter spirits and awaken the land. These ceremonies, while visually arresting, carry deeper meanings—they reflect an ancient European legacy of seasonal alignment, where fertility, purification, and cyclical time shape the social and spiritual rhythms of a community.
Throughout these sacred enclaves, Gardner did not merely observe. He absorbed. His presence at these festivals, guided by trust and respect, allowed him to witness moments where time bent and the masquerade revealed more than it concealed. Each encounter added new dimensions to We the Spirits, offering windows into forgotten mythologies and the enduring heartbeat of collective ritual.
Sacred Dualities and Hidden Symbolism
A recurrent motif in all these ceremonies is duality—life and death, light and shadow, chaos and order. These are not abstract concepts but felt realities, articulated through costume, sound, gesture, and communal involvement. Carnival serves as an annual confrontation with these opposing forces, an orchestrated eruption before the quietude of spring. Gardner’s exploration revealed that many communities experience this not as spectacle, but as spiritual necessity.
In Extremadura, grotesque masks and flame-bearing processions symbolize death’s omnipresence, while ash-covered figures in Portugal’s Trás-os-Montes act out retribution and purification. In these places, Carnival is more than custom; it is a moral landscape painted in rituals, where generations learn through embodied myth what it means to balance the instincts of the wild with the order of the cultivated.
In Austria’s alpine towns, costumed Perchten with gnarled wooden masks and cascading fur wander snow-laden streets, blessing homes and frightening away evil spirits. Here, Gardner found another articulation of ancestral wisdom—one rooted in animism, where nature, time, and spirit speak through tradition. His careful observation illuminated the importance of these rites not only as entertainment, but as communal psychology.
Guardians of Legacy: Trust and Cultural Intimacy
Integral to Gardner’s journey was not only witnessing but being welcomed into intimate, intergenerational spaces. Trust played a vital role. In village after village, the strength of his work depended on relationships forged over time. Community elders, ritual leaders, and local ethnographers became collaborators, offering both context and access. These were not academic tours, but living exchanges rooted in empathy and purpose.
In Galicia, he was invited to view sacred costume collections, stitched over decades by hand. In Slovenia, he was granted the rare opportunity to observe private preparations—where the transformation from villager to spirit figure occurred in silence, under flickering lamplight and ancestral chants. These spaces are not open to tourists. They are protected zones, where culture is born anew each year.
Such invitations are not given lightly. Gardner earned them by showing deference to the customs, the sacred timings, and the emotional needs of those involved. His interest was never in spectacle, but in stewardship. He listened more than he spoke. He arrived early, stayed late, and participated as much as he documented, making the act of cultural witnessing a sacred gesture in itself.
Navigating Challenges with Empathy and Adaptability
Gardner’s journey was not without its complexities. The pursuit of authenticity often brought him into over-exposed locales, where a tide of visitors and lens-wielding spectators threatened to erode the sanctity of the event. Particularly in regions where Carnival has gained international attention, such as Binche in Belgium or Basel in Switzerland, the sheer volume of outside attention introduced a kind of performative fatigue. Rituals risked becoming displays.
To counteract this, Gardner adopted a method rooted in intentional slowness and patience. He avoided the invasive gear of modern production crews and instead utilized natural light, available moments, and the slow rhythm of film-based techniques. This approach aligned seamlessly with the introspective nature of the traditions he witnessed, encouraging genuine interaction with those involved and allowing spontaneous moments to rise naturally to the surface.
Another delicate challenge emerged during the preparatory phases of the festivals. For many participants, the act of dressing—of moving from self to spirit—is sacred. It is a threshold moment. In some communities, being seen in partial costume or before the transformation is complete is taboo. Rather than intrude, Gardner would often wait nearby, respectfully giving space until the ritual was fully incarnate.
This sensitive approach fostered trust and ensured the integrity of the portrayal. The images that emerged are imbued with quiet respect and authenticity—capturing not only the visual beauty but the spiritual weight of the masquerade. His humility in these moments added a layer of meaning to the work, showing that the deepest truths are often found not in intrusion, but in observation from the edge of ritual.
The Ritual of Transformation and Collective Identity
One of the most remarkable aspects of Gardner’s journey is his revelation of transformation—not just physical, but metaphysical. In each community, the wearing of the mask signals more than disguise. It is a declaration of identity that reaches beyond the personal into the collective, beyond the present into the ancestral. This moment of metamorphosis, when the everyday self yields to a larger force, sits at the center of Carnival’s enduring power.
In Dreznica, Slovenia, Gardner witnessed a villager don a hand-carved wooden mask passed down through three generations. In that moment, the man ceased to be himself—he became a conduit for something older, something sacred. Similar sentiments echoed across regions. “When I wear this,” one Sardinian elder said, “I carry my father’s spirit, and his father’s spirit too.”
These transformations speak to Carnival’s function as cultural memory in motion. Through masks, dances, chants, and costumes, the community reminds itself of who it is, where it has come from, and what values must be preserved. It is not a celebration of the past, but an act of regeneration—keeping history alive by embodying it.
A Living Archive of the Human Spirit
What Gardner uncovered in his exploration is that Carnival is not simply folklore—it is a living, breathing archive of the human spirit. It is where stories untold by books are passed down through rhythm and ritual. The body becomes the vessel. The village square becomes the stage. The collective breath becomes a hymn to continuity.
These festivals, often rooted in pre-Christian or pagan traditions, persist not because they are nostalgic, but because they remain vital. They provide moments of catharsis, of spiritual clarity, of moral reflection. They offer a space to confront fear, celebrate survival, and reconnect with cycles larger than the individual.
Gardner’s work crystallizes this through intimate, respectful storytelling. Every captured image, every anecdote woven into We the Spirits, bears the weight of lineage and the lightness of joy. His journey reminds us that beneath the mask is not anonymity—but identity amplified. Carnival, in its deepest sense, is not an escape—it is a homecoming.
Preserving the Sacred in a Changing World
In an age where globalization threatens the uniqueness of regional identity, We the Spirits emerges as a critical reminder of the cultural wealth still thriving in forgotten corners. Gardner’s odyssey is not just an artistic triumph, but a cultural mission—a plea to recognize the importance of intangible heritage and the stories embedded in soil, breath, and ritual.
These traditions, if ignored, risk fading into folklore footnotes. But through mindful documentation and cross-cultural exchange, they can continue to evolve, to inspire, and to teach. Gardner’s journey does more than chronicle—it honors, protects, and transmits.
Carnival is not vanishing. It is shape-shifting, adapting, and enduring—like the spirits themselves. We the Spirits is an invitation to witness this metamorphosis, to listen to the heartbeat beneath the mask, and to celebrate the enduring magic of ritual in a world in search of meaning.
Embodied Myth: Transformation Through Mask and Movement
At the core of every authentic Carnival ritual is not simply performance, but transformation—a liminal passage where the individual dissolves, and the mythic self emerges. Jason Gardner’s exploration of global masquerade traditions in We the Spirits revealed that the mask is far more than an ornament. It is a portal. It doesn’t obscure identity; it reshapes it. The moment one slips into character, something alchemical occurs—ancestry, archetype, and personal spirit intertwine.
Throughout his journey across 15 countries and over a decade of immersive engagement, Gardner discovered that this act of becoming is deeply rooted in cultural memory and spiritual inheritance. In Sardinia, where the ancient figure Sa Filonzana still roams village pathways during Carnival, Gardner met a participant who proclaimed, “When I wear this mask, I can never die.” This wasn’t a metaphor. It was an invocation of eternity—a merging with something beyond the temporal self.
Similar experiences unfolded in the remote Pyrenean communities of southern France, during the winter ritual known as Fête de l’Ours (Festival of the Bear). Here, men embodying the primal bear spirit lose all conscious sense of identity while in character. One participant confessed that when the costume is worn, the body becomes an instrument of something else. Memory blurs, time warps, and the human vessel is taken over by a force both ancestral and elemental. Gardner witnessed them emerge, dazed and quiet, as if awakening from sacred possession.
The materials used to craft these masks and outfits are as symbolic as the rituals themselves. Horns, straw, soot, wool, feathers, bark, and bell-metal are not merely decorative—they are chosen for their connection to nature, mythology, and agrarian lore. These elements link body to earth, echoing ancient understandings of man as both creature and caretaker, both beast and spirit. The result is a living sculpture—a figure that steps from dream into daylight, whose very form narrates a cyclical truth of decay, fertility, and transformation.
This process is not performative in the theatrical sense—it is devotional. The wearer of the mask is not acting; they are channeling. For Gardner, these moments were the most revealing: when the line between history and presence, myth and flesh, disappeared. The mask doesn’t hide—it reveals what language cannot.
The Mask as Mirror and Portal
Masks, in many of the cultures Gardner visited, are revered as sacred artifacts—threshold objects imbued with generational significance. Far from being static accessories, they are vessels of inherited power, passed down, renewed, and sometimes even whispered to. Wearing a mask means stepping into the lineage of its previous bearers, and in doing so, becoming part of a story that stretches back beyond written history.
In rural Slovenia, for instance, masks are often handmade by the very individuals who wear them, using techniques preserved by oral tradition. Each design is specific not only to a region but to a family, a role, or even a mythological spirit. They are sometimes kept in homes throughout the year, not as décor, but as relics—protected and treated with reverence. They might be mended with the same care given to sacred texts or ritual tools.
In Portugal’s Bragança region, Gardner observed masked processions where each participant wore a unique configuration of animal and elemental motifs. The masks here represented both protector and punisher, depending on the storyline enacted through the village. They were not symbolic in the abstract sense; they were narrative devices in motion. The stories told through movement and expression carried histories of resistance, fertility, plague, and redemption.
What became evident to Gardner was that the act of masking held a dual nature. It was both an individual transformation and a collective meditation. The person becomes more than themselves—and the community, in turn, sees something reflected back: their fears, their ancestors, their hopes for the coming year. This is Carnival at its most powerful—not escapism, but deep cultural exegesis, performed annually, always with new resonance.
Ancient Threads Woven Through Modern Flesh
In tracing the continuity of these rites, Gardner recognized that the human body itself becomes a text—an animated manuscript through which history, spirituality, and place are inscribed. The gait of the masked figure, the weight of their costume, the rhythm of their steps all carry embedded meaning. These aren’t arbitrary movements—they’re echoes of agrarian practices, of pre-Christian festivals, of pagan deities and animistic worldviews long buried by colonial and religious overlays.
In Austria’s Tyrol region, Gardner was present at a Schemenlaufen procession—a parade of elaborately masked figures in a tightly choreographed sequence meant to drive away winter and awaken spring. The ritual is not spontaneous, nor purely celebratory. It is a solemn obligation, handed down through centuries. The community rehearses, prepares, fasts, and finally executes the ritual with precision. The rhythmic stomping, jingling of bells, and chanting serve as spiritual catalysts, reminding all who witness that they are part of a continuum far older than any modern nation-state.
In Guinea-Bissau, Gardner encountered the Dodo masks, where elaborate headdresses and full-body disguises draw from ancestral spirits and local deities. These figures do not merely entertain—they bless, protect, and sometimes challenge societal norms. Their movements are encoded with myth, and their very appearance triggers a communal understanding of sacred time—a kind of seasonal rebalancing that transcends language.
In each of these places, Gardner found that masquerade was not something confined to Carnival—it was part of the moral and spiritual infrastructure of the society. These are not costumes; they are living scripts. And those who wear them are not performers, but interpreters of truths that cannot be uttered through words alone.
The Spirit Within the Spectacle
What outsiders often misunderstand about Carnival is that its theatricality is not for show—it is for survival. The energy, the exuberance, the vibrant chaos all serve as necessary release valves for collective emotion, especially in communities that have endured historical trauma, poverty, or marginalization. Carnival becomes both exorcism and exaltation, where laughter is laced with lament and dance with remembrance.
In the Dominican Republic, Gardner witnessed Carnival events that fused African, Indigenous, and Spanish elements into a singular expression of cultural resilience. The whipping figures of Los Diablos Cojuelos—mischievous demons who chase and provoke—enact centuries of satire and symbolic resistance. Beneath the humor lies a layered commentary on power, survival, and identity.
In Basque towns of northern Spain, Gardner stood among towering zanpantzar figures—drummers cloaked in straw who march to the beat of an ancient pulse meant to purify the land and chase out malevolent spirits. These aren't displays for tourists; they’re spiritual mechanisms. Their noise carries purpose. Their steps reawaken the earth.
What Gardner’s journey revealed, again and again, is that beneath every Carnival mask lies the same human drive: to express what is most vital, most painful, and most beautiful about being alive.
Carnival as a Cultural Continuum
Having journeyed through so many diverse traditions, Gardner no longer interprets Carnival as an event on the calendar. Instead, he recognizes it as a kind of cultural code—a recurring message passed down across centuries and continents. Though its manifestations are kaleidoscopic, its essence remains unified. In every country he visited, Carnival addressed the same core themes: mortality and rebirth, light emerging from darkness, chaos giving way to order.
These masquerades act as cultural mnemonic devices—living memory banks encoded with myth, moral parables, and community-specific wisdom. Through each costume, each song, each ritualized gesture, these events preserve what textbooks cannot. They are the stories we carry not in words, but in the body. They embody resilience in the face of historical rupture and remind the present of its obligations to the past.
Gardner saw these rituals not as nostalgic re-enactments, but as vital acts of cultural transmission. When a child in Asturias learns to craft a Sidro mask from scratch, or a teenager in Slovenia trains for weeks to join the winter parade, it’s not just craft—it’s identity formation. These traditions teach belonging, responsibility, and ancestral pride.
The Eternal Return: Ritual as Rebirth
One of the most profound realizations Gardner experienced was how Carnival allows people to symbolically die and be reborn. The masking, the procession, the music, the revelry—all serve as stages in a larger drama of dissolution and renewal. Participants often described feeling cleansed, emptied, or re-centered after a Carnival cycle. This isn’t coincidence—it’s by design.
In many regions, Carnival is bookended by ceremonial acts: the symbolic burial of the past, a collective feast, or a quiet vigil to honor the year ahead. These gestures ground the experience, ensuring that the ecstatic energy of the celebration is returned to purpose.
This cyclical motion mirrors ancient agricultural and lunar cycles—planting, reaping, resting, and beginning again. Gardner’s role, in essence, became one of witness to these cosmic rhythms—translating them not through interpretation, but by letting the rituals speak for themselves. His work offers us the chance to listen.
Remembering Who We Are Beneath the Mask
We the Spirits is not simply a collection of portraits or narratives—it is a manifesto for cultural remembrance. Gardner’s journey across fifteen countries and fifteen years has illuminated one unchanging truth: that beneath the pageantry of Carnival lies the shared human yearning for transformation, connection, and continuity.
In a world increasingly fragmented by digital noise, rootlessness, and cultural erasure, these rituals stand firm. They remind us who we are—not as isolated individuals, but as part of a lineage that reaches back through time, across borders, and into myth.
Gardner’s chronicle is a rare gift—a testament to the power of tradition to shape identity, heal communities, and awaken forgotten wisdom. The mask, in the end, does not hide us. It reveals us. It shows us not only who we were but who we are still capable of becoming.
An Invitation to See Beyond the Spectacle
We the Spirits is more than a visual project—it is an invitation to reassess how we engage with tradition, identity, and ceremony. Gardner’s quest underscores that Carnival is not a monolithic event, but a prism through which different societies refract their histories, traumas, dreams, and devotions. His documentation stands as both an archive and a meditation—on what it means to perform culture, to embody belief, and to preserve something sacred in an increasingly secular world.
In a global era obsessed with instant gratification and surface-level spectacle, Gardner compels us to slow down, to look closer, and to listen. He reveals a cultural phenomenon where masks don’t conceal, but reveal—revealing not just the spirits of the ancestors, but the spirit within us all.
Through We the Spirits, Gardner leaves behind more than imagery; he offers a legacy of reverence and a reminder that the most enduring stories are those told with the body, shaped by the seasons, and passed from generation to generation, not in words, but in ritual.
Final Thoughts:
As we reflect on We the Spirits, it becomes clear that Jason Gardner has created more than a photographic journey—he has crafted a powerful cultural testament that honors the invisible threads connecting us to our collective past. Through his deep immersion and sensitive storytelling, Gardner invites us to reimagine Carnival not as mere festivity, but as an enduring ritual of remembrance, resilience, and rebirth. These ancestral ceremonies, often overlooked by mainstream narratives, stand as vital expressions of human identity, tied intrinsically to land, lineage, and myth.
In a world rapidly moving toward homogenization, Gardner’s work serves as a poignant reminder of the richness found in cultural specificity. Each community he visited—whether nestled in the Slovenian Alps or dancing through the alleys of northern Portugal—brings forward unique variations of shared human themes. The rituals may differ in costume, language, or rhythm, but at their core, they reflect universal ideas: confronting mortality, renewing the spirit, invoking protection, and celebrating survival. These aren’t simply events on a calendar; they are soul-deep affirmations of who we are and where we come from.
The transformative nature of Carnival, where individuals transcend ordinary identities to embody mythical or ancestral figures, resonates far beyond the confines of the village square. It touches something archetypal, a recognition that humans across all geographies share a yearning to become part of something larger than themselves. By putting on a mask, one steps into a sacred role, not to hide, but to reveal a deeper truth.
Gardner’s approach—slow, respectful, collaborative—reflects the very ethos of the traditions he captures. His images and stories do not exploit or romanticize; instead, they honor the living, breathing pulse of cultures that resist fading into obscurity. In documenting these festivals with such care and authenticity, We the Spirits becomes a call to protect these traditions, to listen to the wisdom carried in ancient dances, and to value the rituals that help us remember who we are in a world that often forgets.
Ultimately, this book is a mirror: it reflects the universal human need for ceremony, for transformation, and for storytelling—not through words alone, but through the mask, the dance, and the enduring spirit.
