Marco Bell

After the 2002 military coup and the 2003 oil strike in Venezuela, the politicization of the state oil company, Petróleos de Venezuela, marked a deepening of an already existing visual order. Uniforms—especially military ones—took on greater visibility in the public arena, and the color red, long associated with Chávez, became increasingly dominant.

Red was no longer just a color—it was a declaration. In the early 2010s, it was widely adopted, encouraged, and at times imposed, particularly among public workers and the popular classes. Clothing became a visual marker of loyalty, ideology, and class. What one wore was no longer incidental—it was political.

But beyond red, beyond the uniform, the streets of Venezuela were inscribed with complex visual codes. Workwear, branded knock-offs, religious symbols, school uniforms, and military fatigues coexisted in a layered semiotic system that governed how people were read and where they belonged. Dress became a form of currency, a kind of armor, a way to signal aspiration, affiliation—or survival.

What separates choice from coercion? Expression from obedience? Freedom from imposition?

The Carnival is getting longer every day.