Octubre 2016

 

La Casa.

(Castellano)

 

“…Su rostro está vuelto hacia el pasado. Donde nosotros percibimos una cadena de acontecimientos, él ve una catástrofe única que amontona ruina sobre ruina y la arroja a sus pies. Bien quisiera él detenerse, despertar a los muertos y recomponer lo despedazado, pero desde el Paraíso sopla un huracán que se enreda en sus alas, y que es tan fuerte que el ángel ya no puede cerrarlas. Este huracán le empuja irreteniblemente hacia el futuro, al cual da la espalda, mientras los escombros se elevan ante él hasta el cielo…”. Walter Benjamín, Tesis sobre la filosofía de la historia.

 

La Casa es una búsqueda, un trato, una aventura, un desastre voluntario, una practica que niega el “siempre nunca es posible”…Es larga, es dura, es-pesa, nuestra, huele, duele, toca, sangra, rompe, no se mira, sin paredes, no es espacio sino deseo, itera, entrópia, fertiliza, semilla, huella, ruina, es polvo, con 10 minutos de traca y cocteles de ADN, anda cómeme el coño lo siento prefiero viento, si no te corres se me acaba el cemento, oscuro total.

 

La Casa son todas las casas…La casa horizonte, la casa bienvenida, la casa con cuatro ventanas, La casa con escaleras que destruyen el heroísmo del ascensor, la casa Ellos, la casa nosotroas, la casa buscada, la casa perdida, la casa hogar, la casa ruina…

 

¿Cómo destruir un teatro, como construir una casa? “Nosotros”, juntos. En un gesto que nos acerque a Sísifo, que solo tenga sentido, que renueve su utilidad y no utilidad, en un insistir constante cargado de especulaciones suicidas y fluidos varios. Crear un enlace apasionado de cuerpos que olvidan la casa inscrita en su memoria Y con un “nosotros” que resulta del compartir una actividad exhaustiva, repetida en el tiempo, que genera cansancio… y fluidos, fluidos varios.

 

Un teatro y una casa. Dos entidades diseñadas para darnos cobijo, almacenar deseos, para hospedar poesías y fracasos…

 

¿Qué otros espacios pueden emerger de la confrontación de deseos comunes y de la acción de romper-se? ¿Dónde estará entonces el confort, la raíz, la intimidad, el compartir? ¿ Y si enraizarse es una actividad tridimensional y en movimiento? ¿Y si familiear es una consecuencia de destruir mobiliario juntos? ¿Y si nuestros fluidos son capaces de unir ladrillos que después serán paredes que después serán habitaciones que después serán edificios que después serán calles que después serán barrios que después serán ciudades que después serán países, continentes, mundos, universos, constelaciones.... Mi cuerpo esta hecho de la misma carne que el mundo.

 

Mi ombligo es el centro del universo pero sufro de ocularofobia. Me preocupa la mirada de Medusa, esa que petrifica.

 

Se abre el telón: silencio que te jodan come sandia respira tres veces repite repit repite córrete tronco toca el espacio mas suave abre ventanas que huela más que duela menos es improbable soy un ser disperso pero habito cocinas que nutren…no mires no mires,

oscuro total.

 

La Casa.

(English)

 

La Casa. investigates these ideas: How to build a house? How to destroy a Theatre? We, together.

Building and destroying, all the time, in a gesture that brings us closer to Sisyphus, a gesture that only makes sense in the constant insistence of suicidal speculations and various fluids, the perpetual renewal of its useful and uselessness. The creation of a passionate bonding of bodies which forget every house inscribed in their memories and “we” resulting of sharing an exhausting activity, repeated in time, that generate fatigue…and fluids, various fluids.

A theatre and a house, the main characters to investigate. Two well-known spaces-entities-figures designed to operate in a specific way, to give us shelter, to store our dreams and favourite ingredients, recognizable, attached to memories and protocols, with specific rules of inhabiting and behaving.

And together, a group of people, busy and fully invested with the idea of “building-constructing” as the main operators, directors, architects, constructors, performers, poets. A group of people working, questioning and discovering, what is to collaborate, to grow together, to share space, time and intimacy.

 

La Casa. thinks about the similarities and fundamental differences of two spaces. Their functions, possibilities and paradoxes, and in how we “inhabit them”. The public and the private, the shared and the secret, the walls and the windows, the common and the ownership, the real and the representation, the spectacle, the entertainment, the commodity, the comfort, the image, the imagination, the work, the labour, the investment, the empty, the mobility, the luggage, the unplaced, the land, the promiscuity, the missing, the gone, the broken, then new….

 

La Casa. seeks for a language, a physicality of building, the poetic movement of erasing and transforming a space which is charged, assumed as known, remembered, given for granted.

 

La Casa. portrays a group of people deciding to touch, sound, eroticize, cry, ejaculate, and re design time and space. 

 

La Casa. is recycling, accumulation, the art of demolition, a recipe for alchemy, transformation, the praxis of building, action as a connective tissue, the ruins, the destruction as a constructive ritual; it is a collective suicide, a (giving) birth. 

 

La Casa. is a quest, a deal, an adventure, a voluntary disaster, a practice denying the “always won’t ever be possible” ... It’s long, it’s hard, it’s thick, it’s ours; it smells, hurts, touches, bleeds, breaks, can’t be looked at, wall-less, it’s not space but desire, it iterates, it entropies, it fertilizes; it’s a seed, a footprint, a ruin, ten minutes of explosive shagging and DNA cocktails, c’mon eat my pussy sorry I prefer the wind, if you don’t come I run out of cement, absolute darkness. 

La Casa. is every house... The horizon house, the welcoming house, the house with four windows, the house with stairs that neglect the heroism of the elevator, the ellos house, the nosotras house, the seek house, the lost house, the home house, the ruin house... 

 

What if we can erase memory? 

What if rooting is three-dimensional and in movement?
What if familying is a consequence of destroying furniture together? What if our fluids are able to glue bricks that will later be walls later be rooms later be buildings later be cities later be countries later be worlds later be universes and constellations? 

My body is made of the same flesh as the world. My navel is the centre of the universe but I suffer from ocularophobia. I am worried about Medusa’s gaze, the one that petrifies. 

The curtain rises: silence fuck you eat watermelon breathe three times repeat repeat repeat ejaculate dude touch the space softer open windows let it smell more let it it hurt less it’s improbable I am a dispersed being but I inhabit kitchens that nourish people... do not look do not look, absolute darkness. 

When the peaks of our sky get together, my house will have a roof...

But then, I hope, I will have learned to live under the stars, galaxies and other unknown...

Fire. 

 

La Casa. is an extensive project that contains several ramifications and formats/works around the idea “How to build a house, how to destroy a theatre, we, together” that Aitana Cordero has been developing since the last two years.

Within these practices, Aitana has already created several projects including a piece with 15 men, a duet with a girl, a performance with kids, another one with teen agers, a book (in progress) and several workshops.

This process is currently under development.