Saturday, July 30, 2005

Eclipse- Author unknown Posted by Picasa

I leave tomorrow.
I go on vacation yes and no
Part work, part family and part vacations

Important list:

1- Notebook on ideas
2- Book for the airplane
3- Digital camera
4- Tootbrush
5- Pen
6- Toothbrush 2 in case a lose toothbrush 1

And don't forget the suitcase!!


"Bramacharya" painted by M.Coffey
Posted by Picasa

Once, Peter Brook was criticized of not being “original”. He was criticized of making synthesis of Stanislavsky, Brecht, Grotovski and Oriental Theatre.

Aren’t we all a result of synthesis in our own art work???

Bach compositions were a synthesis of Italian, French and German music. He “copied” Vivaldi in a way of learning. (As I do when I write poetry LOL)

Telemann is another good example or Mozart who was a product of a masterful synthesis of all styles.

So well yes, my work is no different I have been influenced by Peter Brook, Reinhild Hoffmannn, Butoh and the many books I read.

We influence each other.

There are no original ideas. They can come out as something new, but at the end they are a synthesis of knowledge and experience.

The difference is the language we use to give them a voice of its own

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Involuntary Thoughts

Thoughts Posted by Picasa

Time of involuntary thoughts
Building slowly from the cellar of a tired feminine breath
Humid, prolonged, heavy, vibrating….the source of a feeling
Ghostly shadows of the feminine mind
Invented geometry of emotions
Concave and convex reactions touched by the lethal venom of passion
Mysteries of a soul
Conflicts of gestures
Magic trance of involuntary thoughts

Saturday, July 23, 2005

History of the Night by Borges

"Mujer" de Maria A. Sanchez Posted by Picasa

Her website:

History of the Night

Throughout the course of th generations
men constructed the night.
At first she was blindness;
thorns raking bare feet,
fear of wolves.
We shall never know who forged the word
for the interval of shadow
dividing the two twilights;
we shall never know in what age it came to mean
the starry hours.
Others created the myth.
They made her the mother of the unruffled Fates
that spin our destiny,
thev sacrificed black ewes to her, and the cock
who crows his own death.
The Chaldeans assigned to her twelve houses;
to Zeno, infinite words.
She took shape from Latin hexameters
and the terror of Pascal.
Luis de Leon saw in her the homeland
of his stricken soul.
Now we feel her to be inexhuastible
like an ancient wine
and no one can gaze on her without vertigo
and time has charged her with eternity.

And to think that she wouldn't exist
except for those fragile instruments, the eyes.

Jorge Luis Borges

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Your Breathing Bothers Me

Os Convidados Posted by Picasa

I have always seen a performance as team work.
No one is a star without the other, everybody is important in their own specific function.
Individualism is blended into the objective of the people involved, to give life to an idea.
What interests me more, is the creation of what has been inside my mind. It takes me months to give it a shape and to decide the expressive language it needs. I tend to do it with care and love.
Once in a rehearsal room, I am open to the comments and ideas of others, this idea that has been worked and reworked to create the heart of the piece, is not just something for what I should, alone, as the creator, get benefit. Around me, there is the team, with their suggestions and critics, a team that works together not just through the process, but through the different performances in different venues.

The team is made of people as involved as the creator- or so it should be- not because of ego or stardom but because they want to be as professional as possible.

We just need one person, to disrupt what should be the absolute pleasure of performing and setting the piece.
We just need someone disrupting the spirituality of people around, with personal and egotistical manifestations to make an event that should be happy…….sad.

For some people, they are the only ones existing in this universe, any little thing that is not adapted to them, becomes a problem.

If someone tells you: “Your breathing bothers me”, as the conclusion of successful performances, is like crossing the personal space of another, to whom just individuality is important and nothing else.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Arena Festival

Erlangen Posted by Picasa

Wonderful experience in the Arena Festival.
We met wonderful people, we saw good performances and I got invited to make a co-production for next year with the Festival.
So many creative projects for the future!
It is exciting.

So many possible themes inside my head

Creative process at work.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Algunos Pensamientos de Artaud

Light and Shadows Posted by Picasa

El diálogo- cosa escrita y hablada- no pertenece específicamente a la escena, sino al libro, como puede verse en todos los manuales de historia literaria, donde el teatro es una rama subordinada de la historia del lenguaje hablado.
Afirmo que la escena es un lugar físico que exige ser ocupado, y que se le permita hablar su propio lenguaje concreto.
Afirmo que ese lenguaje concreto destinado a los sentidos, independiente de la palabra, debe satisfacer todos los sentidos como hay una poesía del lenguaje, y que ese lenguaje físico y concreto no es verdaderamente teatral sino en cuanto expresa pensamientos que escapan al dominio del lenguaje hablado.

Mientras más sobria y restringida es la expresión más honda y pesada es la respiración, más sustancial y plena de resonancias.
Y a una expresión arrebatada, amplia y exterior, corresponde una respiración en ondas breves y bajas.
Es indiscutible que todo sentimiento, todo movimiento del espíritu, todo salto de la emoción humana tienen su respiración propia

Antonin Artaud

Saturday, July 02, 2005

Reflection Posted by Picasa


Painting by Armastaja Posted by Picasa

Poetry is like wine, a habit that develops with time, like most habits, like most art forms.
The more we read poetry, the more we appreciate it, just like jazz.
Until it becomes an addiction.

But now that I write this on my agenda full of scrabbles, during a short break before a performance, I take notice of the shadows.
The sun is low; swallows are brushing the sky with a breathtaking speed.
The sun is melting into the tree.

Is then that my mind changed to painting, then dance, then again poetry.

All is one

A painting that moves our spirit is a poetry made by light and shadows, like the landscape I am drinking with my eyes. At the same time it is dance it moves on space through perspective, just like poetry moves through images and rhythm.

Musicality of words…………….. The staccato or legato of colours……………….. The energy or suspension of a movement……………expression, feeling……

The swallows are still flying, the sun still melting.

The wind on my face...............................