Traditionally, the most familiar types of maps depict political boundaries and administrative divisions, topography and natural features, or information on climate, population, and economic activity. \u201cBy contrast, contemporary maps falling under what we term as \u201caugmented cartography\u201d depart from this tradition by questioning the very nature and purpose of mapmaking,\u201d Sperling explains.<\/p>\n
These new practices can be classified into two dimensions, he elaborates. The first concerns mapmaking as a tool in territorial disputes with the state and large corporations, blending physical features with the cultural dimensions of resident communities. This approach treats maps as social constructions, emphasizing networks of socio-spatial relationships over geographic coordinates and political borders. The second dimension focuses on the symbolic and artistic uses of cartography, viewing maps as platforms for imagining and creating new worlds.<\/p>\n
Pablo Ares, Iconoclasistas (https:\/\/iconoclasistas.net\/) <\/span>A graphic panel by the Argentine collective Iconoclasistas links economic, social, and cultural processes to grassroots initiatives in neighborhoods across Buenos AiresPablo Ares, Iconoclasistas (https:\/\/iconoclasistas.net\/) <\/span><\/p><\/div>\nThe spatial or cartographic turn movement began in the 1980s, Sperling continues, when a group of geographers, philosophers, architects, urban planners, and scholars in social studies began to question the idea that cartography was an objective science. One of the seminal works in this movement was the paper \u201cDeconstructing the Map,\u201d written by the British geographer Brian Harley (1932\u20131991) in 1989. In the essay, Harley builds on ideas from philosophers such as Michel Foucault (1926\u20131984) and Jacques Derrida (1930\u20132004), arguing that maps function as instruments of power and must be analyzed as much for what they omit as for what they depict. \u201cDuring that decade, a perspective gained traction that viewed cartography as an ideological construction shaped by political and aesthetic choices,\u201d Sperling notes. \u201cIn this sense, maps do not merely represent reality\u2014they also produce it.\u201d<\/p>\n
A local watershed moment in this movement, according to geographer Renato Emerson Nascimento dos Santos of the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro (UFRJ), was the adoption of Brazil\u2019s 1988 Constitution, which formally recognized the cultures, languages, customs, and traditions of the country\u2019s Indigenous peoples. Then, in 1990, Convention No. 169 of the International Labour Organization (ILO) established the right to self-determination for traditional communities worldwide. In Brazil, these two developments paved the way for these groups to adopt new forms of mapmaking to represent their territories.<\/p>\n
Against this backdrop, economist Henri Acselrad of the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro (UFRJ) notes that, beginning in the 1990s, a major wave of land demarcation and titling involving traditional communities and peoples emerged across multiple Latin American countries. \u201cThis was frequently linked to the growing adoption of practices known as participatory mapmaking or social cartography,\u201d says Acselrad, who heads UFRJ\u2019s Environmental, Economic, and Political Inequality research collective. \u201cThese initiatives represented a symbolic and political break with the state\u2019s monopoly over cartography.\u201d<\/p>\n
According to Acselrad, rather than portraying territory with claims to objectivity\u2014as if maps were mirrors of reality\u2014these new mapmaking practices argue that maps should incorporate the elements that communities themselves deem meaningful. These may include, for example, areas regarded as sacred by Indigenous peoples, as well as stretches of rivers and lakes used for fishing. \u201cIn a philosophical sense, this kind of mapmaking goes beyond the mere representation of geographic space,\u201d says geographer Gisele Girardi of the Federal University of Esp\u00edrito Santo (UFES). \u201cIt becomes a research method that maps processes and connections, with a particular emphasis on reproducing subjectivity.\u201d<\/p>\n
Beyond these social and political movements, Santos of UFRJ points to technological advances since the 1980s as another major driver behind the expanding use and development of maps. \u201cThe landscape changed even more dramatically between the 1990s and 2000s with the widespread adoption of emerging technologies. Geographic Information Systems (GIS), Global Positioning System (GPS) devices, remote-sensing software, and open access to databases and imagery via the internet greatly expanded the toolsets available to communities,\u201d he notes. As a result, Santos says, mapmaking\u2014which had long been confined to state and military institutions\u2014has been incorporated into local planning and territorial advocacy practices.<\/p>\n
Quebradas Maps (https:\/\/quebradamaps.com.br) <\/span>Quebrada Maps is a project dedicated to mapping S\u00e3o Paulo\u2019s inner-city neighborhoodsQuebradas Maps (https:\/\/quebradamaps.com.br) <\/span><\/p><\/div>\nA case in point, Santos says, is the Grande Caraj\u00e1s Project, launched by Brazil\u2019s federal government in 1982, which called for the construction of infrastructure to support large-scale mining across the Amazon, from Par\u00e1 to Maranh\u00e3o. The official map produced for the project ignored the presence of populations living in the region, including riverine communities, quilombolas<\/em>, and Indigenous peoples. To challenge these omissions, anthropologist Alfredo Wagner Berno de Almeida of the State University of Amazonas (UEA) launched a project, called the New Social Cartography of the Amazon, in 2003, in collaboration with other Brazilian organizations.<\/p>\nA first in Brazil, the project supports traditional peoples and communities in producing their own maps using digital and geospatial tools. The team compiles records created from the perspectives of these communities to depict patterns of territorial occupation in the region while also serving as a tool to strengthen social movements. \u201cWhen Indigenous and traditional peoples in the Amazon were erased from the official map produced for the Grande Caraj\u00e1s Project, they chose to create an alternative map as a way to make their presence visible and defend their territories,\u201d Girardi explains.<\/p>\n
Inspired by this experience, other communities have begun producing their own maps to challenge omissions in official maps. Geographer Dorival Bonf\u00e1 Neto, now an educational affairs specialist at the Federal University of the South and Southeast of Par\u00e1 (UNIFESSPA), has taken part in several such initiatives, supporting self-demarcation processes led by Indigenous communities in the Santar\u00e9m region of Par\u00e1. One such project involved the Borari people of Alter do Ch\u00e3o, who had been waiting since 2009 for their territory to be officially demarcated by Brazil\u2019s Indigenous authority, FUNAI. The official planning maps failed to include places central to community life, such as sacred sites and fishing areas along the Tapaj\u00f3s River.<\/p>\n
Between early 2024 and February 2025, the Borari decided to develop an alternative map with technical support from the Center for Research on Space, Politics, and Social Emancipation (NEPES), affiliated with the geography program at the Federal University of Western Par\u00e1 (UFOPA), where Neto was teaching at the time. Funded by the Brazilian National Council for Scientific and Technological Development (CNPq), the project combined drone surveys, image-based mapping, land-use documentation, and geographic data shaped by the memories and oral histories of local families. Drawing on this material, the team produced a new map self-demarcating the Borari Indigenous Land of Alter do Ch\u00e3o. The document has since been incorporated into FUNAI\u2019s official demarcation process and may serve as evidence in legal actions, including petitions to Brazil\u2019s Federal Public Prosecutor\u2019s Office (MPF).<\/p>\n\n Alexandre Affonso \/ Pesquisa FAPESP based on an image by FERNANDES, R. Z. (Coord.). Relat\u00f3rio de Autodemarca\u00e7\u00e3o da Terra Ind\u00edgena Borari de Alter do Ch\u00e3o<\/strong>. 2025<\/span>\n\u201cProducing these kinds of maps helps shed light on long-marginalized territories and strengthen communities\u2019 ability to recognize, name, and defend their own spaces,\u201d says architect and urban planner Mariana Quezado Costa Lima, a doctoral researcher at the Federal University of Cear\u00e1 (UFC). In her research, Costa Lima examines how urban communities in Fortaleza have used maps to defend their rights\u2014whether by negotiating master plans, demanding infrastructure, or resisting forced displacement.<\/p>\n
An example of this was seen in 2016, when residents of the Po\u00e7o da Draga community in Fortaleza carried out their own census, collecting data on housing conditions, educational attainment, and household income. The results revealed clear discrepancies with official statistics. Another example, notes Costa Lima, is the Bom Jardim ZEIS Observatory, an organization formed by a cluster of historically overlooked communities on the southwestern outskirts of Fortaleza. Residents used maps to pressure local authorities to improve sanitation and housing conditions in the area.<\/p>\n
Girardi notes that mapping vulnerable areas has now been mainstreamed across Brazil, particularly through online platforms such as Google Maps and OpenStreetMap. One prominent example is Quebrada Maps, an initiative developed in S\u00e3o Paulo in 2015. The project collaborates with residents of inner-city neighborhoods to produce maps that foreground local culture, shared histories, and the challenges people face in these areas.<\/p>\n
Clarissa Sampaio Freitas, a professor of architecture and urban planning at the Federal University of Cear\u00e1 (UFC), explains that this kind of mapmaking often requires communities to collaborate with universities and nongovernmental organizations. \u201cThese institutions provide training workshops that teach residents how to use mapmaking tools, including software such as QGIS and Google Earth,\u201d Freitas says, noting that Fortaleza has one of the highest proportions of informal settlements in Brazil.<\/p>\n
Sperling points to similar initiatives in other countries, such as Iconoclasistas, launched in Argentina in 2006 to develop collaborative mapping methodologies with peripheral and Indigenous communities. The initiative offers training workshops and compiles and publishes the results of cooperative mapmaking processes that combine local and academic knowledge, often with support from cultural institutions and public universities. \u201cExamples around the world include maps produced by skateboarders that rethink young people\u2019s right to the city; maps knitted by groups of women to call attention to government neglect of neighborhoods affected by flooding; and online platforms used to combat sexual harassment and expose abuses committed by governments and corporations against minority populations,\u201d says Girardi. Some of these experiences are documented in the book This Is Not an Atlas<\/em>, published in 2018 by the German collective Kollektiv Orangotango.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n \n
Some projects have an explicitly artistic focus, says David Sperling, such as Canal Motoboy, created in 2006 by artist Antoni Abad. The Catalan artist distributed camera-equipped cell phones to motorcycle couriers, who traveled through public and private spaces across the state of S\u00e3o Paulo, recording images and videos later published online. The couriers then tag their recordings with keywords, collectively building a shared multimedia database. \u201cThe project is building a kind of audiovisual map of the metropolis, seen from the seat of a motorcycle, revealing motorcycle couriers\u2019 routes, rhythms, and ways of life,\u201d Sperling says.<\/p>\n
Another art-related initiative is Atlas do Ch\u00e3o, a collaborative platform Sperling himself launched in 2022 with Ana Luiza Nobre, a professor of architecture and urban planning at the Pontifical Catholic University of Rio de Janeiro (PUC-RJ). The platform maps sites connected to processes of colonization, decolonization, and urbanization, enabling users to draw connections among places and share geographic narratives.<\/p>\n
Yet another example is the work of Brazilian visual artist Marcelo Moscheta, who treats displacement and borders as aesthetic material. Currently a doctoral candidate in contemporary art at the University of Coimbra in Portugal, Moscheta follows GPS-mapped routes and gathers data from the terrain and via geolocation to produce works that probe \u201cthe precision of cartography and the fallibility of the sensory experience.\u201d<\/p>\n
One such work is Fixos e fluxos<\/em>, developed following an artist residency in Chile\u2019s Atacama Desert in 2013. In a phone interview, Moscheta explained that the work draws on concepts developed by geographer Milton Santos (1925\u20132001), who described \u201cfixed points\u201d as spaces of permanence and the structural features of places, and \u201cflows\u201d as the movements that traverse those territories.<\/p>\nBuilding on these ideas, the artist drove through stretches of the Chilean desert with a GPS device switched on, recording his route as it appeared on the screen. He then located those coordinates on Google Earth, captured high-resolution screenshots, and printed them onto aluminum panels. In each quadrant of the image, he embedded a copper plate, creating a composition that layers the satellite\u2019s algorithmic representation over the embodied experience of space. \u201cCartography is not exact,\u201d Moscheta says. \u201cIt is always an interpretation\u2014whether by a cartographer or by an artist.\u201d<\/p>\n
Marcelo Moscheta \/ Galeria Vermelho \/ Reproduced<\/span>Fixos e fluxos<\/em>, a piece by visual artist Marcelo Moscheta created in Chile\u2019s Atacama Desert using GPS data and satellite imageryMarcelo Moscheta \/ Galeria Vermelho \/ Reproduced<\/span><\/p><\/div>\nSperling notes, however, that while the expansion of mapmaking practices fuels creative processes and community-based mapping, major technology companies\u2014such as Google, whose business models rely on geolocated apps\u2014turn the data generated by these practices into commodities. In his newly released book, Sperling examines the political implications of contemporary technologies, challenging claims of their neutrality. \u201cSensors, georeferencing systems, and massive databases are technologies permeated by power relations,\u201d he writes, \u201ccapable of shaping behavior and augmenting algorithmic mechanisms of surveillance and control.\u201d<\/p>\n
As an example, Sperling points to platforms such as Airbnb, which has had the effect of spiking the market value of certain neighborhoods. \u201cThe expansion of short-term rentals has accelerated gentrification\u2014driving up living costs and displacing residents from central neighborhoods, as tourism increasingly encroaches on spaces that were once primarily residential,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
Looking to develop a mapmaking project independent of big-tech platforms, S\u00e9rgio Amadeu, a professor of sociology at the Federal University of ABC (UFABC), launched a collaborative map of charitable initiatives during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. Working with an interdisciplinary research team, he identified initiatives organized by community associations, cultural collectives, labor unions, and nongovernmental organizations in inner-city neighborhoods and favelas across the S\u00e3o Paulo metropolitan area. \u201cThese groups were trying to fill gaps left by government programs, providing both material and emotional support to vulnerable communities,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
The resulting Map of Collaborative Practices to Combat COVID-19 was built using open-source code and hosted on independent servers. The platform allowed users to register initiatives such as food distribution, preparation of hot meals, and provision of psychological support. \u201cAt the height of the pandemic, more than 1,800 initiatives were listed on the platform,\u201d Amadeu recalls. The project, however, ran into structural difficulties after university funding ended in 2021, forcing the map to be taken offline. \u201cWe are now trying to rebuild it with the goal of continuing to publicize charitable efforts,\u201d says Amadeu. \u201cBut without long-term funding, projects like this are hard to sustain\u2014especially when they try to operate independently of platforms controlled by large corporations.\u201d<\/p>\n
The story above was published with the title “Augmented cartography<\/strong>” in issue 357 of November\/2025.<\/p>\nScientific articles<\/strong>Cartograf\u00eda Social en Brasil y en la Am\u00e9rica Latina: Desaf\u00edos epistemol\u00f3gicos y metodol\u00f3gicos de mapeos contra-hegem\u00f3nicos de los espacios y territorios<\/a>. Cuadernos de Geografia<\/strong>. Vol. 30. 2021.Anais do XXI Encontro Nacional da Associa\u00e7\u00e3o Nacional de P\u00f3s-gradua\u00e7\u00e3o e Pesquisa em Planejamento Urbano e Regional (Sess\u00e3o Tem\u00e1tica)<\/strong>. Campina Grande: Realize Editora, 2025.Anais do Quarto URBfavelas: Semin\u00e1rio Internacional de Urbaniza\u00e7\u00e3o de Favelas<\/strong>. S\u00e3o Paulo (SP). USP, 2024.Bit\u00e1cora Urbano Territorial<\/strong> [S. l.], Vol. 34, no. 2, 2024.Terra Livre<\/strong>. [S. l.], Vol. 2, no. 63, 2024.et al<\/em>. Sobre cultura e cidade: Lutas por mem\u00f3ria e as gram\u00e1ticas espaciais urbanas. Versus: Revista de Ci\u00eancias Sociais Aplicadas do CCJE\/UFRJ<\/strong>. Vol. 12, 2024.<\/p>\nBook<\/strong>Cartografias cr\u00edticas: Ensaios tecnopol\u00edticos e geopo\u00e9ticos<\/strong>. Rio de Janeiro: Rio Books, 2025.<\/p>\nReport<\/strong>Relat\u00f3rio de autodemarca\u00e7\u00e3o da Terra Ind\u00edgena Borari de Alter do Ch\u00e3o<\/strong>. Santar\u00e9m, 2025.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Vulnerable communities and traditional peoples propose new forms of mapping","protected":false},"author":601,"featured_media":577319,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[165],"tags":[203,5899,265],"coauthors":[1600],"class_list":["post-577310","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-humanities","tag-architecture","tag-geografia-en","tag-urbanism","position_at_home-sumario"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistapesquisa.fapesp.br\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/577310","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistapesquisa.fapesp.br\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistapesquisa.fapesp.br\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistapesquisa.fapesp.br\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/601"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistapesquisa.fapesp.br\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=577310"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/revistapesquisa.fapesp.br\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/577310\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":583246,"href":"https:\/\/revistapesquisa.fapesp.br\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/577310\/revisions\/583246"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistapesquisa.fapesp.br\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/577319"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/revistapesquisa.fapesp.br\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=577310"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistapesquisa.fapesp.br\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=577310"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistapesquisa.fapesp.br\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=577310"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/revistapesquisa.fapesp.br\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/coauthors?post=577310"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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