Week 3. Today we rehearse Notxa's story and enter the mural painting that he paints with a long brush to escape the harsh reality, and today we have six characters who are looking for an author, a fertile matrix to write their tragicomedy, today that for a few moments in the 28 and a half essay becomes the momentum where poetry, technique and philosophy are mixed in the truth of theatrical fiction, I realize that we are making a big bonfire where pieces of literature, music and cinema, which are nothing more than passionate corners of the soul that we decide to attend to. And Laura's violin, Marià's and Marc's guitar and Joan's accordion are conjured up to lift up a song, " entre el viento, la lluvia de una noche larga y fría, todo lo que soy there it will be . And we burn the melancholy in celebration, in continuous party, moving crescendo where we make a circus out of sorrows.
Because melancholy is fruitful if we digest it in company, if we elevate it in poetry, if we listen to it accompanied by vitalistic cadences. And art waits for us to lose ourselves and find ourselves again, to take everything with irony, like a night of drunkenness, like a mysterious morning that moves the veins beneath the routine ebb and flow. The flesh will be unleashed with a theatrical beat making us feel with certainty that to love is to love each other, to love each other even if we are missing teeth.
" Le vent s elève, il faut tanter de vivre ".
And the essay is the repetition, as the French say, and also the test, as in Italy; gather the signs of the scene and the transitions from one fragment to another, which form a kaleidoscope of many simultaneous times. And so we prepare the theater night, where we relive the present of the fire that always burns here and now. The theater is a game that is only conjugated in the gerund. We play it to make present the memory we lack, the one we've been searching for since childhood: the memory of beauty.
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