Monthly Archives: December 2018

The only way to deal with things !

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This is HOW I wanted my play “FLASH AND CRASH DAYS” to be understood (1991 – 1995)

THIS IS HOW “FLASH AND CRASH DAYS” SHOULD BE UNDERSTOOD”

 

FERNANDA MONTENEGRO as the protagonist of my FLASH AND CRASH DAYS

 I was never really fully satisfied with the way “Flash and Crash Days” was received. Although its reception around the world could not have been better in the dozen or so countries where we performed it, between 1991 and 1995.  It was seen as entertainment and / or, by the more serious critics or scholars – such as The Journal de Geneve  which described it as a “Wagnerian Tragedy” or the Parisian  Liberation  which knitted a theory of Freudian stochastic genealogy over and around it and dealt it too much of a superlative blow in the realm of “the playwright and director considers himself a magician of surrealism and, thus, makes us search for far too many hidden meanings”. The New York Times critic raved about the production but subscribed to that same theory – i.e. of the hidden meaning “a master of Latin American Surrealism”, the same old thing all over the place.

There was no surrealism.

There was a surreal pretense to disguise the harsh social critique I was staging. I am not Brechtian. I am not direct.

 “Flash and Crash” gave them many nervous laughters but it also frightened their brains. The critics were on a competitive level with me. I much preferred Haroldo de Campos’s off the cuff remarks: “It’s pure Oswald de Andrade, this is the real meaning of antropofagia”. Although Oswald really has very little influence on me,  Haroldo does. And so it all comes together in Copenhagen, where Flash and Crash was performed in 1992 and again in 1994 and here, in November 2018 in conversation with my friend Jørgen Teller, I’ve come to realize (28 years after the fact) things that are so crucial about my work that my jaw has dropped and I’ve left it in Denmark.

Jørgen described it best: “Flash” is a  post industrial-play past all the royal theaters and opera houses – then back to trashy punk-clubs and now churches…. “

I couldn’t agree more.

In principle, the play is a social-political event. A critique, even. It’s supposed to devour itself. In that – I think – Haroldo meant his remark about the antropofagia or, simply, autofagic – slowly corroding itself, through the old and young, the useless and the useful.

THAT’S THE way I intended Flash and Crash Days  to be understood or absorbed. That pretense of  calling it the   “mother and daughter” show – or, even on the level as successful comedies tackling sexual taboos between generations, well, I can say “thank God for the success” and the acceptance and the vast audiences around the world. I’m not complaining. We played in repertoire with my Empire of Half Truths (which, by the way, contains an even clearer symbol of autofagic cannibalism: i.e. Fernanda Torres being eaten alive like a piglet. THAT IS the and that play came about as an almost automated response to those motherfuckers who LOVED Flash and Crash but missed the point. So, I took to the stage once again and stripped it bare, ripped it open and shat in their mouths.

Gerald Thomas

NYC December 10, 2018

FERNANDA TORRES (daughter) in my FLASH AND CRASH DAYS

FERNANDA TORRES (daughter) in my FLASH AND CRASH DAYS

 

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In My Solitude: The Solitude of an Artist.

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Lindo POEMA (in)Verso Pró-TESTO de Fátima Vale: “CONTRA OS CANHÕES DANÇAR DANÇAR”

FATIMA VALE

 

 

apanhadores de lama de todos os países uni-vos

artistas enquanto houver água seremos os esteiros

gaitinhas guedelhas gineto maquineta e sagui

poetas da blusa amarela

de três metros de entardecer

sacerdotes da inspiração despercebida

legisladores não reconhecidos

jardins de carência minha asa

caminharemos de olhos dados

pela planície vermelha que desperta

a plenos pulmões desfiaremos o silêncio dos oprimidos

a plenos pulmões quebraremos as algemas das crianças detidas

a plenos pulmões arrancaremos do peito o espinho

o ponto mais alto da rosa

o veludo mais casto da certeza

a pétala que marca cada livro por escrever

pois o mundo foi apanhado por uma praga de gafanhotos

uma peste de ratos mecânicos

um bando de abutres esfaimados

inventores da guerra para estufas de capital

por isso vos digo

os muros estão mais altos

não foram as pernas que encolheram

os garotos estão mortos vivos velhos a nascer

uma roda pedalada pelo medo

mas medo qual medo multipétalos uivos

não haveria um só rio se não fosse a arte

uma fímbria rodada

uma memória eterna de espelhar

é a arte o paiol da verdade

o infurtável riso

a inviolável menina

o fruto que cresce quanto mais a rama lhe podam

que pulmão que veia que sangue que luz

de césar a monteiro de fausto aos abismos do mar

que janelas de ímpar ímpar se abrem ó salvação

ao ver ali assinada a liberdade

a LI BER DA DE em cada traço

seja no perecível papel pintado com café

ao pigmento rosa sobre xisto no deserto do sahara

LI BER DA DE

antes que nos esqueça

ou vê-los passar esses sacanas dos artistas

esses que afinal são o que todos queriam ser

nem que mais não fosse nem que mais

antes que nos esqueça

apanhadores de lama de todos os países uni-vos

estamos dispersos fomos soprados

evitemos a fome a alienação e auto-censura

também os fantasmas de metralhadora são perecíveis

a arte é liberdade infinita

o apelo à imaginação à fantasia à descoberta ao sonho

como disse Cunhal

à não obediência a qualquer regra

antes que nos esqueça

não sejamos a criança espancada pelo entrave

nem deixemos que a obra seja a monca que escorre

afoitos certeiros arcos afinados

apanhadores de lama de todos os países uni-vos

nada nos pode derrubar a descoisificada ideia

sejamos um ramo da hiperbórea milenar

lembremos os antepassados (como agora)

e puxemos-lhe as patas para diante

para esse sonhado agora porvir

sejamos fortes de faca nos dentes

mesmo esculpindo relâmpagos para adornar rotundas

às vezes

ó maria ó lisboa antónio

mas não deixemos que joanas moldem rosários na nossa viola

não nos deixemos ajoelhar perante as regras da submissão

submeter submeter submeter

sobrevoar sobrevoar sobrevoar

é por dentro que nos ouvimos

por isso nada nos pode calar

antes que nos esqueça

apanhadores de lama de todos os países uni-vos

artistas enquanto houver água seremos os esteiros

um artista em estado grave é sempre um teatro de sombras

inscrita na viagem do meio e sobre a tábua que flutua

fátima ao fundo do vale

centenário de soeiro pereira gomes, auditório do fórum de arte e cultura – FACE – espinho

8 de dezembro de 2018.

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PETER GLATZ

Few things in life can be more fulfilling than catching up with a friend (a special one!) that you’ve happen to lost track of TWO goddamn decades ago.  And two weeks ago in Copenhagen, I had this incredibly emotional moment. Peter Glatz isn’t only a lighting designer genius. He’s also that friend who stares you in the face and reads the biometrics of your solitude and your dilemmas, who has an equal dose of dark humor (very appropriate for a Nordic country) and is as shy as tamed lion. The guy never loses his cool. I took him with me to the most stressful European Opera Houses – where stage managers and artistic director “freak out” if….say…a command to the lighting crew isn’t done in proper order, politeness and precision.

 Someone would issue a memo which shouted “BLA BLA BLA BLA”. I could read the smile on Peter’s face, as he’d invite me for a smoke outside (and thus, irritating everyone a little more).

 It has been about ten days since I’ve left Copenhagen and my correspondence with his almost daily and – certainly – intense. He’s most definitely the brother I never had.

OMG! WELCOME BACK INTO MY LIFE Peter !!!

What did I do throughout these decades without you?

LOVE

Gerald

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AM FED UP ! You bloody cynics !

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“SturmSpiel”: opened at the State Theater in Munich in 1989 (play by @Gerald Thomas)

STURMSPIEL (Alois Strempel is sitting center stage as Prospero – lost amidst this wasteland of umbrellas)

“STURMPIEL’ – here we can see how my set (post modern and deconstructionist – The Berlin Wall ) is seen on the actual stage of the Cuvillies Theater in Munich (one of the oldest Baroque Theaters in the world)

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