This piece is part of a special series, “Overlooked,” which sheds light on remarkable individuals whose passing, starting from 1851, was not initially reported by The Times.
At the tender age of seven, Violeta Parra discovered a secret her father had carefully hidden: his guitar, locked away in a drawer.
Undeterred, she took the instrument and began to play.
“Even though the guitar was too large and had to rest on the floor,” she recounted in a 1954 interview with the Chilean magazine Écran, “I started softly singing the tunes I’d heard adults play. One day, my mother overheard me and simply couldn’t believe it was me.”
This rebellious act set the course for a career that would revolutionize Latin American folk music. Parra’s compositions, deeply embedded in Chile’s traditional rhymes and rhythms, quickly evolved into powerful anthems that crossed all cultural and national boundaries.
Her most celebrated song, “Gracias a la Vida” (“Thanks to Life”), is renowned for its distinctive strumming and lyrical poetry, exploring the full spectrum of human emotions—beauty and pain, joy and sorrow. It has been reimagined by a diverse array of artists, from Jennifer Lopez and country singer Kacey Musgraves to Shakira, the Canadian indie rock band Arcade Fire, and K-pop duo Davichi.
Today, Parra is revered as the pioneer of la Nueva Canción Chilena (the New Chilean Song), a pivotal South American political folk music movement. Yet, her musical contributions extended far beyond folk, notably her series of “Anticuecas,” which daringly reimagined Chile’s traditional cueca dance music. Her powerfully dissonant song “El Gavilán” (“The Sparrow”), often hailed as her musical masterpiece, drew comparisons to classical composers like Stravinsky and Beethoven. This extensive piece, lasting over 10 minutes, features raw vocal expressions layered over stark guitar chords and abrupt rhythmic shifts.
Parra steered clear of commercial songwriting tropes like catchy choruses. She could craft an entire song, such as “Arriba Quemando el Sol” (“With the Sun Burning Overhead”), using just one chord, its hypnotic repetition poignantly reflecting the harsh poverty of Chile’s mining communities. Her melodies were beautifully simple yet deeply affecting: devoid of solos and featuring minimal instrumentation, often just a small guitar, as heard in “Volver a los 17” (“To Be Seventeen Again”), her evocative reflection on finding love anew later in life.
Her grandson, musician Ángel Parra, described her as possessing a “jazzy sensibility” and being “a virtuoso in her own way.” While some perceived her raw, untrained voice as strident, others were deeply moved by the solemnity in pieces like “Rin del Angelito” (“Lullaby for the Little Angel”). This poignant elegy for a deceased child reframed death not as a tragedy, but as a peaceful return to nature.
Despite her profound impact, widespread recognition for Parra largely came after her death by suicide in 1967, at the age of 49. This tragic end echoed a chilling premonition from her 1964 letter to a friend: “Art only bears its true fruit after the cadaver of its creator is devoured by worms.”
Born on October 4, 1917, in a small town near Chillán in Chile’s Central Valley, Violeta del Carmen Parra Sandoval was one of nine children. Her mother, Clarisa Sandoval, was a seamstress, and her father, Nicanor Parra, a teacher and musician. Her parents, cautious of the often unrestrained lives of musicians, attempted to keep the guitar away from her. However, following her father’s death when she was thirteen, she and her siblings began openly performing music in the streets to earn money or food.
When her brother Nicanor relocated to Santiago for his studies, Violeta followed, refining her musical talents through performances in local dive bars.
Recognizing his sister’s immense potential, Nicanor encouraged her in her thirties to undertake a monumental endeavor: to seek out and preserve the traditional songs of rural Chile. Parra embraced this mission with fervent dedication, akin to a ‘Joan of Arc,’ as described by her granddaughter, Javiera Parra.
Armed with her guitar, a notebook, and later, a hefty 50-pound tape recorder, Violeta embarked on journeys by car, bus, horseback, and on foot through Chile’s rural farms and shantytowns. Her quest was to find elderly residents who would share their traditional songs. In return for their musical gifts, she would assist with household chores, like peeling potatoes. Lacking formal musical training, Parra would capture what she heard by sketching musical phrases using “little balls and waves” on pentagrams, as recounted by fellow folklorist Gabriela Pizarro in a 1986 radio program. Over time, she amassed an invaluable collection of approximately 3,000 songs, poems, dances, riddles, and local sayings.
Her commitment to performance never wavered; she recorded roughly a dozen solo LPs and EPs during her lifetime. Her lyrics delved into themes of love and heartbreak; nature and rural existence; and the profound questions of death and spirituality. Additionally, she developed a powerful social justice consciousness, amplifying Indigenous struggles and workers’ demands, and outspokenly condemning political oppression. “La Carta” (“The Letter”), with its vibrant and energetic guitar strumming, stands as one of her most definitive protest anthems. This song recounts the story of her brother’s 1962 imprisonment for joining a workers’ protest for fair wages, powerfully stating: “The hungry ask for bread / The militia gives them bullets.”
In 1938, she married Luis Cereceda, a railroad worker. However, their marriage fractured as Parra prioritized her musical passion over the conventional expectations of a housewife, often leading to extended periods away from her two children.
Later, she married Luis Arce, and they had two more children. Yet, she faced severe criticism for perceived neglect of her maternal responsibilities, particularly after her 9-month-old daughter, Rosa Clara, died of an illness in 1955 while Parra was performing in Europe.
Her other children also performed with her from a very early age. They often spoke of a childhood marked by inconsistent schooling and constant travel, yet all seemed to deeply respect and understand their mother’s artistic calling.
Isabel Parra, Violeta’s sole surviving daughter, stated in an interview, “She had a task to do. Had she been a conventional mother, the world would not have known Violeta Parra.”
Violeta Parra was known for being a complex individual; her temperament included mood swings that could escalate into violent outbursts. She frequently referred to herself in the third person, declaring, “Violeta Parra has arrived!” — a habit that many of her contemporaries found irksome.
In 1959, a bout of hepatitis left her confined to bed, during which she channeled her creative energy into painting and sculpting. Subsequently, she began crafting intricate embroidered tapestries called arpilleras, using burlap, the most affordable material available to her. Her artwork was characterized by vibrant colors and natural imagery, depicting birds, trees, and flowers, alongside symbolic scenes celebrating Chilean traditions such as cueca dances or a peasants’ strike.
Parra aspired to have her creations exhibited at the Paris Museum of Modern Art but faced rejection. Nevertheless, some of her works were eventually featured in 1964 at the Museum of Decorative Arts, housed within a wing of the Louvre. The museum proudly announced it as its inaugural solo exhibition dedicated to a Latin American artist.
Following a three-year sojourn in Europe, Parra returned to Santiago in 1965, only to discover a burgeoning new generation of folk musicians, spearheaded by her eldest children, Ángel and Isabel. Together, they established La Peña de los Parra, a vibrant bohemian music club that quickly became a magnet for young, politically conscious artists exploring fresh Pan-American and international musical expressions.
Parra then launched her own folk music center, La Carpa de la Reina, a valiant effort to revive and celebrate the authentic folk culture she held dear. However, the venture ultimately proved to be a disaster.
During this period, her mental and physical health declined significantly, as she grappled with depression, a persistent skin rash, and the painful end of her long-term relationship with Gilbert Favre. Despite these immense personal struggles, her creative spirit persisted.
In a letter to Favre, she famously wrote, “This thing that comes out of my head never stops. If instead of lyrics it was thread, I would have to sew up all the wounds in the world.”
In 1966, she unveiled her most impactful album, “Últimas composiciones” (“Latest Compositions”), a monumental collection of 14 original songs. Among them were some of her most unforgettable works, including “Run Run Se Fue P’al Norte” (“Run Run Went Up North”), a song that blends a driving, urgent rhythm with poignant lyrics. It metaphorically describes Favre’s journey to Bolivia as a representation of their definitive separation.
Just three months later, on February 5, 1967, Violeta Parra tragically took her own life.
Today, in Santiago, her image graces countless wall murals, and her songs are an integral part of Chilean school curricula. At the Violeta Parra Museum, a vibrant garden serves as a living tribute, carefully tended by visitors. Globally, her profound artistic legacy continues to resonate.
Her granddaughter, Javiera, eloquently described her as “a genius. One of those rare individuals who strikes a chord that resonates, a vibration that effortlessly traverses time, space, generations, and languages.”
A curated Spotify playlist featuring key works by Violeta Parra is embedded here.
An interactive audio player showcasing snippets of Violeta Parra’s influential songs is embedded here.