|AND SO?...THE END.
by MARIANA TENGNER BARROS / EIRA
ON TOUR » AND SO?...THE END.
(..) Mariana vomits IT’S OVER! Absorves and regurgitates the paradox of the end of art, shadow that will always torment the society of the spectacle as long as it exists. Mariana is so sick of the end as she is of the beginning, or the middle of the spectacle. She also vomits the non-art, the anti-art, the eternally delayed disclosure that lives from that announced ending point, and that transforms itself into the staging of its own end, rebellion sold at the price of gold. We eat and let out the reduction to nothingness, that finishing of the end, relaxing cinism, heir of the decadent dandism. All of this labour of mourning, unresolved, shows a culture that cannot emancipate itself from the old ruins of order, sign of agonizing sadness. If all of our civilisation refuses to enter into a superior ground, what else can we do? We are still holding onto the wrecks of the ship, ignoring that we are no longer in high sea. (..)
A brilliant thing.
I started from the idea of ‘Being Brilliant’, began to analyse what this meant to me, both literally or figuratively such as glamour, glittering excessive clothing, parties, the world of the stars/celebrities, as well as other layers of meaning like being extraordinary, good, genius, successful, to obfuscate, to reflect light. I am interested in the contradictions of it all, the ‘other side of the coin’, failure, decadence, desires and expectations that are not fulfilled or end up destroyed, illusions, the ‘darker side’, what is occult, the end.
Gradually, I have built the image of a character and wrote texts around this idea, experimenting with various ways of making her speak. The image became the creature of a creation, of a staging, of a spectacular world that is deceased, yet nobody dared to acknowledge it. She keeps herself here, at this place, attempting to postpone an end that, in fact, has already happened…
She entertains us a little bit more whilst the content of her show continues in an infinite escalade towards and around THE END.
She applauds the end of entertainment. She does not work in the showbiz world; she is the centre of it, as much as she is its product and the element that destroys it.
From within the mask she says the truth whilst she lies with the image, or could it be the opposite?
Screams that it is over. Screams in a universal language, one she knows from films and television. She is what she wanted to be, but at the same time, when incorporating it, she knows she is the purest of illusions, an external curtain that masks a deep lack of capacity to reproduce what has been imposed as a model of success.
Her identity is a fraud. It does not exist. A cape, a costume, a symbol, those are what truly exists. Underneath the clothing lives what cannot be apprehended. Without the mask she no longer shines, without the clothes she exposes everything she wants to deny at all costs. Nevertheless, she never really exposes herself. She is what lacks.
The Voice announces a truth as the body maintains a lie built on illusion.
She never turns her back to the audience; she is frontal, literally frontal. The exuberant costume appears empty and her presence, gosthly. There are no more spectators and it is pointless to try keeping appearances for the show of this existence. She knows it.
Declares the death of the society of the spectacle, wearing its clothes, singing its songs, knowing that what she says is an absurdity, a perfect real absurdity… destroys from within. The spectacle is finished yet nobody seems to want to recognize that fact. She is a spectacle, a staging, a character, a reference, a denial, a contradiction, a hurricane, the destruction of an idea of world. She is a fake belief, a fictioned faith, so that an endless show can be maintained.
Because a spectacle is this art of being, of building, of constructing ourselves everyday, before going out of the house and interact with the others and the environment. The end is really death, that ultimate certainty, that agent of a dark unknown eternity we cannot see. Death: that thing which masters the primordial illusion of disappearance.
Mariana Tengner Barros
© Marco Pires
A solo by MARIANA TENGNER BARROS
Assisted by : ELIZABETE FRANCISCA SANTOS
Costumes: ANTÓNIO MV
Supports: FORUM DANÇA, TEATRO PRAGA
EIRA is supported by the GOVERNMENT OF PORTUGAL / DIRECTORATE-GENERAL FOR THE ARTS - STATE DEPARTMENT FOR CULTURE
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