Canto jo i la muntanya balla

Moving a novel to the theatre is always a capital challenge, as it is somehow to make a translation, another, perhaps as broad as possible. In this re-interpretation all the senses play, or perhaps it was better to say: all the feelings, all possible translations. Languages, signs, conventions and all the media that pass through our heads become test benches that are willing to capture what we consider most important: Soul. To transport that soul to the theater space, the imperceptible corpus of the novel, its essence. The soul that inhabits all possible forms of art.
This soul asks us to be able to feel, to know, to search for all the resonances, harmonies and atmospheres that make it up. All the natural, visual and sound spaces, with a long and so on that inhabit.
Canto Jo and the mountain dances, echoes within the geographs of our memories and our experiences, whether the most present as the most unconscious and hidden. These are memories that come from afar, beyond our reason. These are atheistic memories that bind us (yet) to the natural order that commands all things.
An ancestral link where our existence is not much more important than that of a grain of sand, that of a drop of water, that of a bit of air, a leaf of oak or any other animal that inhabits within the cruel, wise and natural constellation of the Mountain.This natural, but also social and cultural fact, filled with as many truths as elements and superstitions coexist, causes the laws that govern our characters to go beyond any human measure. Laws where everything and everyone is equal. This creates the strange balance that allows all life and all death.
This is our challenge, our singing, our Mountain.

Guillem Albà and Joan Arqué