{"id":1226,"date":"2019-12-18T21:34:42","date_gmt":"2019-12-18T21:34:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/imaginedtheatres.com\/?post_type=theatre&p=1226"},"modified":"2022-01-20T23:00:57","modified_gmt":"2022-01-20T23:00:57","slug":"la-espectadora-y-el-deseo-the-spectator-and-desire","status":"publish","type":"theatre","link":"https:\/\/www.imaginedtheatres.com\/la-espectadora-y-el-deseo-the-spectator-and-desire\/","title":{"rendered":"La espectadora y el deseo \/ The Spectator and Desire"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

ENTRAN MILES DE MARIPOSAS BLANCAS Y LO CUBREN TODO.<\/strong>
DURANTE UNOS MINUTOS, S\u00d3LO SE ESCUCHA EL BATIR DE LAS ALAS.<\/strong>
(The Day was Truly Chilean<\/em>, Andr\u00e9s Kalawski, 2010)<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00bfQu\u00e9 ve la espectadora cuando no ve nada?<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00bfQu\u00e9 ve la espectadora cuando ve <\/strong>
lo <\/strong>
absoluto?<\/strong><\/p>\n

A\u00f1os, muchos a\u00f1os atr\u00e1s, d\u00e9cadas, un ni\u00f1o, peque\u00f1o, sin habla, radiante, con chapes y pintarrajeado con l\u00e1piz labial y sombra de ojos celeste: una mu\u00f1eca, una ni\u00f1a feliz. Y yo, espectadora a la que se ofrece esta identidad m\u00e1s contundente que la supuesta realidad que intenta borrar.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Una performance cotidiana y m\u00ednima. La distancia entre quien se da a ver y, yo, que veo, se diluye. Para el ni\u00f1o, la escena es gozosa; para m\u00ed, resulta algo obscena, porque no hay actor con conciencia de construir su alteridad. Miro, como mira la voyerista a trav\u00e9s de un agujerito, s\u00f3lo que no hay pared que nos separe y la intensidad de la representaci\u00f3n me arrastra al centro de esa fantas\u00eda vital. La realidad queda m\u00e1s all\u00e1.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00bfY si el teatro atravesar\u00e1 a la espectadora como un chifl\u00f3n? \u00bfSi la engullera?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Estar dentro. Rodeada por una ciudad invisible. Escoja su ciudad favorita; la m\u00eda es Zenobia. Sum\u00e9rjase en ella, rec\u00f3rrala, encuentre su gente, los monstruos ocultos, converse con ellos, obs\u00e9rvelos en su cotidianeidad de papel. Convi\u00e9rtase en uno de ellos.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Sentir el paso del tiempo como una brisa suave. Envejecer en segundos. Presenciar la historia de la humanidad en algunos minutos. O la cat\u00e1strofe de un imperio. O la ruina de un individuo. O la irrupci\u00f3n contundente de la anagn\u00f3risis. O sentir el microsc\u00f3pico desarrollo progresivo del llanto, de la pena, del dolor.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Una espectadora en el escenario, sometida al influjo del entorno; la qu\u00edmica corporal alterada por la maceraci\u00f3n del tiempo, por el influjo del espacio, por la presencia de otros cuerpos.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Y si, al final, \u00bfla espectadora se transforma en mariposa?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

THOUSANDS OF WHITE BUTTERFLIES ARRIVE AND COVER EVERYTHING.
FOR A FEW MINUTES ALL YOU CAN HEAR IS THE BEATING OF THEIR WINGS.
\n\t\t\t\t(The Day Was Truly Chilean<\/em>, Andr\u00e9s Kalawski, 2010.)<\/p>\n

What does the spectator see when she sees nothing?<\/p>\n

What does the spectator see when she sees
\nthe
\nabsolute?<\/p>\n

Years and years ago, a boy, little, not yet speaking, radiant, with braids, painted lips, and sky-blue eye shadow: a doll, a happy little girl. And I, the spectator, was offered this identity more convincing than the supposed reality it sought to erase.<\/p>\n

An everyday and minimal performance. The distance between this presentation of self and me\u2013 the one who sees\u2013 is diluted. For the boy, the scene is enjoyable; for me, it is something obscene, because I see no actor consciously constructing his otherness. I watch, as a voyeur watches through a little hole \u2013 only there is no wall that separates us, and the intensity of the performance pulls me toward the center of this lively fantasy. Reality lies elsewhere.<\/p>\n

And if the theatre goes through the spectator like a draught of air? If it devours her?<\/p>\n

To be inside. Surrounded by an invisible city. Choose your favorite one; mine is Zenobia. Submerge yourself in it, run through it, meet its people, its hidden monsters, converse with them, observe them in their daily lives. Turn into one of them.<\/p>\n

To feel the passage of time like a gentle breeze. To age in seconds. To be present for humanity\u2019s history in just a few minutes. Or an empire\u2019s catastrophe. Or an individual\u2019s ruin. Or the overwhelming irruption of anagnorisis. Or to feel the progressive microscopic development of a sob, of sorrow, of sadness.<\/p>\n

A spectator on the stage, submitting herself to the environment\u2019s influence; corporeal chemistry altered by the maceration of time, by the influence of space, by the presence of other bodies.<\/p>\n

And if, at the end, the spectator transforms into a butterfly?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"ENTRAN MILES DE MARIPOSAS BLANCAS Y LO CUBREN TODO.DURANTE UNOS MINUTOS, S\u00d3LO SE ESCUCHA EL BATIR DE LAS ALAS.(The Day was Truly Chilean, Andr\u00e9s Kalawski, 2010) \u00bfQu\u00e9 ve la espectadora cuando no ve nada? \u00bfQu\u00e9 ve la espectadora cuando ve lo absoluto? A\u00f1os, muchos a\u00f1os atr\u00e1s, d\u00e9cadas, un ni\u00f1o, peque\u00f1o, sin habla, radiante, con chapes […]","protected":false},"menu_order":0,"template":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.imaginedtheatres.com\/api\/wp\/v2\/theatres\/1226"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.imaginedtheatres.com\/api\/wp\/v2\/theatres"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.imaginedtheatres.com\/api\/wp\/v2\/types\/theatre"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.imaginedtheatres.com\/api\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1226"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}