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Autobiographical show / performance where mother and daughter talk about men and clothes. The project stems from the experience of a previous work called “Mi madre y yo” (“My Mother and I”), created and performed by Rosa Vicente and Sonia Gómez.
Las Vicente... covers a series of autobiographical events in which a mother and her daughter stage their memories. Being mother and daughter in real life, they play themselves in a natural manner, with humour and nerve.
IT HAS BEEN DAYS SINCE WE TALKED ABOUT MEN.
aT HOME, WE HAVE ALWAYS TALKED ABOUT MEN AND CLOTHES, we didn’t find other things as appealling, AND WE DIDN’T SHY AWAY FROM IT.
WE WERE in OUR KNICKERS all the time DURING THE SUMMER, it LOOKED LIKE A strip-tease IN THE HOUSE OF BERNARDA alba; WHEN THE DOORBELL RANG, NOBODY COULD GO TO OPEN THE DOOR, as WE ALL RAN TO PUT SOMETHING ON.
tHEN, one OF US OPENED THE DOOR TO FACE SOME OF THESE NAMES:
carlos, luis, rubén, ángel, álex, atilano, bernardo, felipe, edelmiro, javier, miquel, pablo, félix, ernesto, roman, camel, javi, leo AND rodrigo, AMONG OTHERS.
fROM THEN ON, WE entered INTO ANOTHER PHASE, WE WERE ALREADY A CLAN. OUR CLAN WAS KIND OF EXOTIC, BECAUSE IT WAS BASED ON THE SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST, AND AGE DIDN’T COUNT WHEN HAVING TO TAKE A DECISION REQUIRING IMMEDIATE ACTION, WORDS CARRIED LITTLE WEIGHT, THE IMPORTANT THING WAS TO TAKE ACTION, THIS WAS THE STRATEGY.
SOMETIMES ACTIONS would also TURN INTO WORDS AND WE ALL STARTED SHOUTING WITH ALL OUR MIGHT. THE NON-ACTIONS TURNED INTO CRYING. WE WERE ALL STRONG, OR AT LEAST THAT’S WHAT WE THOUGHT, YET DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT marianne moore’S EXISTENCE.
THEN WE WOULD GET DRESSED UP AND CREATE NEW TRENDS. “ICE AND FIRE”.
WHEN WE WERE ON THE ICE, WE WOULD THINK ABOUT FIRE, AND WE DIDN’T AGREE MOST OF THE TIME, AND then ICE AND FIRE would get TOGETHER, pieces of incandescent materials blew into the air, it looked LIKE a fallas-style blast furnace.
There’s a picture of my mother and I on our swimming costumes lying on the floor, it is a projection on a white wall. I enter and then my mother follows, placing herself next to me, the both of us are together, side by side. Through gesturing we show our anatomical differences and similarities. Together, we do a simple phrase of movement. Nobody has talked for a while, and there isn’t any music playing either. My mother turns into Tina Turner and then into Nina Juggen.
Kraftwerk is playing and I tell my mother a scene I once lived through in a taxi with this song on. My mother doesn’t know about Kraftwerk, she doesn’t know if she likes them or not. She sits in front of the TV and falls asleep, a fake sleep, of course. I take my clothes off and when she opens her eyes, she finds me like that, so defenceless, and she tells me: Sonia, this is too dramatic, get dressed my child. We then do other silly things, like try to bullfight for real, shout and exchange surprisingly different stories of past times and similar places. In a given moment, we bring up the question of killing an animal because we feel hungry, besides, my mother knows how to do it, which I do not. I start dancing crazily to get out our inner tigers. We do some more silly things for another short while, and that’s it. | |
