Los Fine y su nuevo documental

Por Lucía Camargo Rojas

Inocente es el título del documental dirigido y producido por los esposos Sean Fine and Andrea Nix Fine. La historia inicia con un acercamiento de la cámara a una joven de rasgos latinos cuyo maquillaje denota el esmero, el gusto por el color y armonía propios de un artista. La joven tiene quince años pero habla con la madurez de quien se sabe dueño de su destino. Pronto nos cuenta su gran secreto: lleva casi una década divagando por la ciudad de San Diego junto con su madre y sus hermanos. Su familia no tiene una casa propia y ninguno de sus compañeros de clase lo sabe.

La joven se llama Inocente, tal vez porque está libre de toda culpa. En este documental, ganador del Oscar 2013 al mejor documental corto, ella nos narra su historia sin ninguna clase de mediaciones. Esa es precisamente la decisión más acertada que hicieron sus productores, quienes optaron por dejar que Inocente contara y mostrara directamente su más grande deseo: convertirse en una artista.

No es la primera vez que la pareja Fine se interesa en hacer evidente el poder del arte en sus producciones. Su documental War/Dance (Guerra/Danza), nombrado Mejor Documental y Mejor Cinematografía en los premios Emmy 2009, se había encargado de ilustrar el rol de la música como herramienta transformadora en la vida de los niños que viven en la zona de conflicto de Uganda. Ademas la pareja reconocida en el mundo de la pantalla grande por sus documentales sobre historias desconocidas y por  haber trabajado en 33 países distintos en la última década.

Con tomas en las que la madre de Inocente cuenta su historia, así como con escenas de la vida diaria de los personajes, pronto es clara la situación de vulnerabilidad en la que esta joven y su familia han vivido. Son inmigrantes, debieron huir de un padre que los maltrataba y tienen el deseo de tener una casa propia. De acuerdo con el documental, más de 1.5 millones de jóvenes viven sin hogar en los Estados Unidos. Inocente decide sobrellevar esta situación a través de las gruesas y coloridas pinceladas que conforman sus pinturas.

En su trabajo artístico Inocente relata su oscuro pasado y lo transforma en un futuro prometedor y colorido. Ese deseo de pintarse incluso a sí misma, la lleva a estudiar clases de arte. Su talento finalmente es reconocido y se le otorga la posibilidad de realizar su primera exhibición en solitario con 30 pinturas que debe culminar en tres meses.

El documental es franco, crudo en ciertos momentos, pero sobre todo honesto. La relación entre Inocente y su madre es complicada, situación predecible dadas las circunstancias. Pero lo que más se destaca es la relación de la joven con el arte como la vía para cumplir sus sueños. “No me arrepiento de lo que he vivido porque es lo que me ha hecho ser lo que soy” dice. Cada escena en la que se la ve pintando lo demuestra. Son especialmente bellas las tomas en las que se ilustra detalladamente cómo mezcla los colores y mueve con paciencia y firmeza el pincel.

El deseo de pintar una nueva vida está encarnado en esta joven llena de vitalidad que pareciera emanar sueños, deseos y esperanzas en cada una de sus pinturas. Conocer su historia, claro está, es inspirador. “Tienes que volver tus sueños realidad,” dice con entusiasmo. “Si no tuviera sueños absurdos estaría deprimida,” agrega más adelante. Su determinación es contagiosa, sobre todo cuando se ve su talento.

Los productores de Inocente van destapando poco a poco cada una de las facetas de su vida para culminar exitosamente en la exhibición de sus 30 pinturas. Es en ese momento que la armonía entre vida y arte es evidente y en donde el esfuerzo de la joven artista se transforma significativamente en un momento de recuperación de la dignidad.

Publicado en Literal Magazine el 24 de junio de 2013

La suerte de Daniel Burman

Por Lucía Camargo Rojas

En La suerte en tus manos  (2012),  la última película del argentino Daniel Burman, Jorge Drexler representa de forma apropiada a Uriel, un hombre de 40 años, separado y con dos hijos que desea hacerse una vasectomía para eliminar la posibilidad de tener más descendientes. El mismo día de la operación se encuentra sorpresivamente con Gloria (Valeria Bertuccelli), una antigua novia universitaria que lo dejó porque él nunca hizo pública su relación. 

Las escenas mejor logradas del octavo largometraje de Burman se desarrollan en el consultorio del urólogo Weiss (Luis Brandoni), en donde Uriel habla sin pausa sobre sus relaciones con las mujeres, haciendo una clara parodia a lo que puede ser una consulta psicológica. Incluso, varias de las líneas de Brandoni son las que pretenden ser las pistas que den sentido a la historia (“La clave del éxito no es saber qué se hace bien sino qué es lo que uno hace mal”). Drexler se destaca por su naturalidad, al punto de que uno se olvida totalmente de su rol como músico, compositor y cantante, y en cambio lo percibe como un perfecto representante de un hombre maduro y algo perdido, capaz de añadir un toque de humor sarcástico a esta comedia romántica.

Sin embargo, la película desencanta por la falta de conflicto. Gloria y Uriel vuelven a ser pareja fácilmente y la mentira en la que se basa su reencuentro (Uriel le dice a Gloria que él es quien traerá de regreso al aclamado grupo la Trova rosarina) no alcanza a suscitar mayores obstáculos entre la pareja, haciendo que aunque la película se deje ver y sea amena, no sea precisamente la obra maestra de Burman. Daniel Burman es reconocido por ser un representante de la nueva ola del cine argentino. A pesar de que su largometraje El abrazo partido (2004) ha sido aclamado por la crítica y se le reconozca por películas como Esperando al mesías  (2000) y El nido vacío  (2008), sus más recientes obras carecen de la fuerza de las primeras. 

En particular, La suerte en tus manos  pareciera desaprovechar su reparto y el potencial de la historia. La magnífica Norma Aleandro representa fugazmente a Susan, la madre de Gloria. Pero aunque la reconocida actriz interpreta un par de líneas interesantes, particularmente cuando habla de su relación con su ex esposo, es una pena que su actuación pareciera desconectada del hilo conductor, cuando podría ser clave para entender la vida amorosa de Susan. Incluso la idea de que la suerte la construye uno mismo es interesante, pero tampoco se explota lo suficiente en los juegos de póker de Uriel ni en la película en general. 

Al final uno siente que el protagonista podría o no haber construido su futuro y aunque Burman intenta crear un momento epifánico en el que Uriel toma las riendas de su vida, la escena resulta algo llana y sin vida. Definitivamente La suerte en tus manos no es la película para conocer el trabajo de Burman pero sí para ver el debut de Drexler.

Publicado en Literal el 30 de julio de 2012

Sweeping exhibition of Colombian Art at the IDB Cultural Center

By Lucía Camargo Rojas

The sculptures of Enrique Grau, Gonzalo Ariza’s landscapes, David Manzur’s poetic paintings, and work by 20 other Colombian artists are on display in “The Marvelous Real: Colombia Through the Vision of its Artists,” an exhibition at the Cultural Center gallery of the Inter-American Development Bank through until September 27.

Curated by Felix Ángel, the exhibition successfully illustrates the history of Colombian art through 36 pieces that include paintings, sculptures and video. What is remarkable about the show is that unites the Colombian artworks, part of the bank’s more than 1700-piece collection, in a thoughtful and chronological manner. Each piece is accompanied by a bilingual (English/Spanish) biography of the artist and an explanatory note offering context about the times in which it was made.

Gonzalo Ariza’s savannas and mountains welcome the viewer with a piece that introduces the spectator to Colombia’s multiple landscapes. Renowned Colombian artists such as Edgar Negret, Fanny Sanín, Enrique Grau, and Eduardo Ramírez Villamizar share space with the more contemporary work of Andrés Felipe Uribe and Carlos Fernando Osuna and others. It is surprising to see the reality of Enrique Grau’s sculpture, “The Kiss” (El beso) (1995), in the same exhibition with Andrés Felipe Uribe’s shocking video that criticizes a Colombian government campaign promoting a positive view of the country abroad by tattooing a heart in his chest.

The exhibition also underscores the many topics and techniques preferred by the artists. There’s the exquisitely detailed landscape love affair of Juan Bernal’s “Spirits of Nature” (Espíritus de la naturaleza) (2002), the gold replicas of Pre-Columbian pieces of Bogotá’s Gold Museum, the marvelous Negret’s sculpture “The Sun” (El Sol) (1985), and the colorful looms of Olga de Amaral in “Limestone Cliffs” (Riscos Calizos) (1988), among others.

The exhibition showcases the diversity of Colombian art, raising questions about the validity of its title. Alejo Carpentier’s “marvelous real” was a concept launched during the ’50s that represented not only Colombian but Latin American culture at that time. What this outstanding exhibition illustrates is the concern of its artists to describe a country that, as the show rightly highlights, is “in the making” and precisely because of that has been interpreted in many different ways by its artists. This selection of work certainly goes further than the old and general “marvelous real” concept.

The exhibition sets a high bar for the future showcases of the Latin American work planned for the bank’s art collection. In the meantime, these pieces will be viewable on the new IPAD version (downloadable it here) of the IDB gallery, another positive idea to promote the Latin American art on display in the bank’s building.

Published in Hola Cultura on July 11, 2013

Ballplayer: Pelotero

Por Lucía Camargo Rojas

La edad de oro para un joven de San Pedro de Macorís, República Dominicana, son los 16 años. No solamente porque con seguridad su familia le organizará una gran fiesta, sino porque la Major League Baseball (MLB) le permite firmar contratos con las compañías de béisbol estadounidenses. Para la gran mayoría de adolescentes de esa región esa es laúnica oportunidad de salir de la pobreza.

Así lo cuenta el documental "Ballplayer: Pelotero" (2012) dirigido por Ross Finkel, Trevor Martin y Jonathan Paley, socios de la compañía neoyorquina de comerciales y video corto Guagua productions, quienes estuvieron casi un año en República Dominicana intentando indagar por qué los dominicanos son tan buenos jugando béisbol. La respuesta resultó ser mucho más compleja de lo que creían y dio como resultado una investigación impecable sobre la realidad que afronta gran parte de los jóvenes del país caribeño.

El documental se centra en la historia de Miguel Ángel Sano y Jean Carlos Batista, dos jóvenes a punto de cumplir los 16 años que han sido entrenados gratuitamente por profesores dominicanos. La esperanza de estos entrenadores, claro está, consiste en que los grupos de béisbol estadounidenses les ofrezcan sumas mayores al millón de dólares a sus pupilos, de tal manera que ellos puedan recibir el 35% de la jugosa suma. Los adolescentes, por su parte, ponen toda su energía en el juego con el fin de poder dar a sus familias la oportunidad de una estabilidad financiera y de cumplir su sueño de llegar a las grandes ligas.

El acierto más grande de este documental es el de mostrar la vida diaria de estos jugadores para evidenciar la presión que tienen cada dos de julio, día en que se cierran las ofertas de los equipos estadounidenses. Aunque su talento sea casi natural e incuestionable su futuro depende de cómo lleven a cabo la negociación. Así sucede también con sus entrenadores. “Toda mi vida le pedí a Dios un pelotero como Miguel Ángel,” dice uno de ellos. Una carga bastante pesada para quien ni siquiera ha alcanzado la mayoría de edad.

Pero como era de esperarse, detrás de ese sueño están las artimañas y corrupción de los equipos para comprar a futuras estrellas por el menor precio posible. El monopolio detrás de esta especie de mercado de talentos que comenzó en 1962. Los directores se encontraron con que efectivamente República Dominicana produce jugadores de alta calidad (el 20% de los jugadores estadounidenses viene de ese país), pero también los más baratos. Aunque el precio sea una mina de oro para las familias de los jóvenes, es una ganga para los grupos norteamericanos.

El documental se enfoca, entonces, en ilustrar paso a paso una situación poco conocida e inquietante. Las familias hacen lo posible para superar todos los obstáculos interpuestos por la MLB, como probar que el joven efectivamente tiene 16 años, y lograr la firma del jugador. No tienen otra opción. Las angustiantes escenas de la gran mayoría de ellos sentados esperando respuesta lo ilustran. Afortunadamente las acompañan uno que otro apunte humorístico a pesar de las circunstancias: “Los gringos inventaron la pelota, pero nosotros le pegamos mejor,” dice uno de los jugadores.

Detrás del documental hay una gran investigación periodística, ilustrada con entrevistas a la mayoría de partes involucradas: jóvenes, familias y entrenadores, de la mano de la narración de John Leguízamo. Sin embargo, hace falta la posición de la MLB para conocer el otro lado de la historia. Al final de la producción se aclara que la organización deportiva no quiso conceder entrevistas. Una omisión diciente.

Ballplayer: Pelotero es entonces un documental convincente que demuestra una vez más las injusticias a las que se somete quien no tiene la sartén por el mango. En este caso los jóvenes talentos que se entrenan en las canchas de béisbol de San Pedro de Macorís.

Publicado en Literal Magazine en julio de 2013

M.A.K.U Soundsystem: “fiesta para el que sea, parranda en la calle”

Por Lucía Camargo Rojas

El grupo colombiano M.A.K.U Soundsystem, que se presentó el pasado miércoles en Tropicalia, toma su nombre de los indígenas Nukak Maku, para quienes “Maku” hace referencia a la casta más baja de su comunidad. A su vez “Sound System” alude a las fiestas colombianas y jamaiquinas que se hacen en la calle espontáneamente alrededor de la música a todo volumen emitida por grandes parlantes, de acuerdo con el fundador de la banda, Camilo Rodríguez.

En otras palabras M.A.K.U Soundsystem retoma los ritmos de la música atlántica colombiana, mezclados con algo de soul, funk, punk, reggae y Afrobeat con el fin de promover la “fiesta para el que sea, parranda en la calle para el que quiera,” según Rodríguez.

Y es que la diversidad y apertura hacen parte de este grupo de inmigrantes colombianos que tuvo sus inicios en las caminatas de Rodríguez por las calles de Nueva York en el 2009. “Cuando uno va caminando por ahí y ve a un grupo de haitianos tocando, de puertorriqueños, etc., uno empieza a preguntarse por cuál es la música de Colombia,” explica.

Pronto Rodríguez, quien inició la carrera de música en The City College pero se graduó de Estudios Latinoamericanos, comenzó a conocer grupos colombianos que tocaron en la ciudad de Nueva York como Totó la Momposina y los Gaiteros de San Jacinto y a indagar por la música tradicional de su país. Junto con su amigo Juan Pablo comenzó a experimentar con distintos sonidos y grabó el CD “Vamos bien”.

Rodríguez siguió el estudio de la música folklórica y en ese proceso conoció a los que serían los nuevos integrantes de la banda: los barranquilleros Liliana Conde (vocalista y percusión) y Moris Cañante (alegre); los bogotanos Juan Ospina (vocalista y bajo), Andrés Jiménez (tambores) y Felipe Quiroz (sintetizador), y los estadounidenses Robert Stringer (trombón) e Isaiah Richardson Jr. (trombón y clarinete).

Los seis colombianos que hacen parte del grupo llegaron a Queens a finales de los 90 y principios del 2000. Todos comparten el gusto por la música en general, la admiración por el folklor colombiano y el estatus de inmigrantes que los hace mantener una relación más cercana a la hermandad que a la simple camaradería.
“M.A.K.U está altamente influenciado por la experiencia de vivir en Nueva York como inmigrantes” explica Rodríguez. “La banda ha generado un punto de encuentro parecido al de una comunidad. Eso hace que nos hayamos conocido mejor,” agrega.

Su primer disco en vinilo se llama “MAKUMBALA” y fue producido en el año 2011. Para Rodríguez ese trabajo refleja la etapa en la que realmente decidieron cuáles son los instrumentos y los integrantes de la banda. En cambio en su último disco “Music Never Dies”, lanzado el año pasado, “ya tenemos una estética que nos gusta a todos y estamos más cómodos. Ya hay más claridad de hacia dónde queremos que las canciones vayan,” agrega.

Los dos discos fueron grabados espontáneamente, basados en los experimentos de la música barranquillera de los años 70. En sus investigaciones sobre música colombiana, Rodríguez se encontró con que en aquella época en la Costa Atlántica se hacían grabaciones espontáneas de mezclas entre distintos géneros que incluso incluían Afrobeat, funk y soul. “Nosotros continuamos con esa tradición” explica.

Según Rodríguez, el objetivo del grupo es “botar nueva vibra, que la gente pase bien, se divierta y esté conectada”. Pero también acepta que parecen emitir un mensaje de encuentro con el que muchos inmigrantes se empiezan a ver identificados. “Además usted mira la banda y encuentra una diversidad muy interesante. Yo creo que la gente siente eso y le afecta”, concluye.

Publicado en Hola Cultura el 3 de julio de 2013

Spanish Spelling Bee: Adults compete in annual literacy

Photos by Lucía Camargo Rojas

By Lucía Camargo Rojas

Agustín Martínez and Ana Arévalo arrived ready to do battle at last Monday night’s Spanish-language spelling bee organized by the literacy organization CENAES.

Martínez, a D.C. taxi driver originally from El Salvador, won top honors in last year’s contest, which also tests the progress made by area Hispanic adults who are learning to read and write in Spanish.

Like many fellow competitors, Martínez never had a chance to complete his education as a child, a legacy of illiteracy that’s also made it more difficult for him to learn English as a second language.

“The problem is that when you don’t know how to read and write in Spanish, you learn a lyric English,” he says. “You are like a musician who learns to play without music notes.”

He failed several English classes at the Carlos Rosario International Public Charter School until his ESL teacher sent him to Mario Gamboa, director of CENAES, which stand for Centro de Alfabetización en Español (Spanish Language Literacy Center).

“Gamboa´s classes help me to open my mind. I didn’t know about adjectives, predicates, pronouns, prepositions, verbs, present, past or conjugations,” says Martínez, who has now finished six out of eight levels of English classes, an achievement he credits to his Spanish grammar lessons in the last two years.

So the taxi driver, who hopes to study law one day, was feeling pretty confident June 17 when he arrived at CentroNía to defend his CENAES spelling bee title.

“If you want the crown, you have to fight for it,” Martínez told Arévalo before the contest. “Let’s fight,” she replied. And they did fight. In fact, they spelled so many words correctly that members of the jury had to resort to a backup list of derivative words to keep the competition going. Eventually, though, Martínez missed a word and Arévalo, an aspiring nurse also originally from El Salvador, emerged victorious.

“I knew that I was going to win,” she said as she received her trophy.

In all, there are the nearly 24,000 “Limited English Proficient” individuals living in Washington D.C., according to the Migration Policy Institute’s analysis of the U.S. Census Bureau’s 2009-2011 American Community Survey. The group estimates that more than half, or 13,700, are native Spanish speakers.
But Gamboa estimates there may be as many as 50,000 functionally illiterate Hispanics in the greater Washington region.

He says he first learned of the problem a decade ago when he worked in the construction industry. One day, he left his workers a note in Spanish with detailed instructions. When he returned and they hadn’t done anything, he says he was stunned to learn the reason: They couldn’t read or write. He started giving free Spanish classes after work and now directs a non-profit that has helped hundreds of local residents over the last decade.

There is a wealth of academic research showing that knowing how to read and write in one’s native language makes it easier to learn a second language. And Gamboa says his experience as a teacher suggests the opposite is also true: Hispanics without a grasp of how to read and write in Spanish struggle when it comes to learning English.

“We try to teach students Spanish first, and then we send them to other institutions that teach English,” says Gamboa, whose center offers basic, intermediate and advanced classes at several places around the Washington area including the Carlos Rosario International School, Meridian Public Charter School, the Latin American Youth Center (Centro Latinoamericano de la Juventud), and the Salvadoran Consulate.

Like Martínez, students are often referred to the Spanish literacy program by their English teachers. Ryan Monroe, principal of Carlos Rosario International Public Charter School, explains that when his English teachers notice Spanish speaking students struggling with their English, they often ask them how much formal education they had in their home country.

“If they hear that they didn’t finish high school or elementary school, they recommend they enroll in Spanish classes,” says Monroe, whose school offers literacy courses in Spanish as well as the “Plazas comunitarias” program, a partnership with the Consulate of Mexico that allows Spanish speakers to complete elementary and middle certificates in their native language.

Gamboa founded the Spanish spelling bee in 2006 as a fun way to end each academic year. The contest is modeled roughly after the Scripps National Spelling Bee that brings to Washington hundreds of youngsters from around the United States each year. The Spanish-language contest, however, is geared toward the goals of its adult contestants such as encouraging students to take the General Educational Development (GED) exam in Spanish, an equivalent to a high school diploma.

Carlos Rosario School offers the GED classes to 200 students per year. When the students finish their GED and come back to finish their English as a Second Language classes, they will learn English a lot easier and a lot faster because they will have strong skills in their native language, according to Monroe.

Ana Arévalo is studying for the GED in Spanish exam as one step toward eventually becoming a nurse.

“First I have to take the GED in Spanish. Then I have to take English classes,” she said.

She says when she started at CENAES, she didn’t know that a sentence starts with a capital letter and ends with a period, or where to put an accent or a comma. “I’m glad because now I can teach my daughters,” she said.

These days Arévalo is always practicing English, as well. She reads the signs around the city and uses her cell phone to learn their meanings and the pronunciation. She is confident that in the end she will master the language. After all, she already won the Spanish spelling contest. That was the first step.

Published in Hola Cultura on June 20, 2013

Review: 'Teacher in The House: A True Tale of Urban Survival'

By Lucía Camargo Rojas

“Teacher in The House: A True Tale of Human Survival” is a funny, emotive and biographical one-woman play that explains actress Susan Jeremy’s decision to teach children with life-threatening illness at their homes. The show, presented at Theatre 99, is part of the Piccolo Fringe series.

Successfully performing 10 different characters, Jeremy tells four interweaving stories: her childhood memories when she was a student, her experience as a public school teacher, her own cancer treatment and her role as an educator.

Without any effort or intermission she performed distinctly different characters, such as a policeman and a kid with attention deficit disorder. Her acting was so compelling that only with the tone of her voice, a movement, an attitude, it was clear when she changed from one character to another, and when she shifted to a new scene.

Most importantly, she was able to describe regular life and the peculiarities of each character and each environment, prompting laughter throughout the performance. Two of her funniest descriptions were about the Hispanic neighborhood in New York City, where people are so warm everyone is half-naked, and about how she won the respect of her 7th grade students when she taught them about drugs, including illegal ones.

Those funny moments, though, were a kind of an introduction to the most difficult part of the performance, when she shares her experience with cancer and chemotherapy. Up to this moment the pace of the storytelling was quick and the mood festive. But once her character is coping with illness, the performance became more reflective.

Jeremy clearly took a risk in this show: She wanted to discuss her breast cancer fight with humor. Remarkably, she achieved that goal and simultaneously paid tribute to the teacher helping others face similar battles.

Between jokes, she signaled the importance of helping children struggling with illness, avoiding sentimentality and pity. She rightly chose the perfect way to convey her message: with laughter, lots of laughter.

Published in The Post and Courier on June 7, 2013

Q&A with Nathan Durfee

By Lucía Camargo Rojas

The original canvas of this year’s Piccolo Spoleto poster is being exhibited in “Tales Transposed: A Celebration of Imagination”. It is called “Bartholomeux Taken by the Piccolo” and was made by the artist Nathan Durfee.

Durfee agreed to talk to The Post and Courier about the meaning of this image.

Q: How did you end up doing this year’s Piccolo Spoleto poster?

A: Rebecca Gosnell, who is affiliated with the Office of Cultural Affairs, was a big fan of my work and approached Ellen (Dressler Moryl). Rebecca dropped my work (off with) them, and they thought it could be a good match for the festival. They told me: “Hey, we love this Bartholomeux character, and we want to incorporate it into this year’s Piccolo poster.”


Q: When did you start drawing Bartholomeux?

A: I came up with the dog Bartholomeux about two years ago. What is interesting about him is that he has this affiliation with the cardinal birds, and I have done a whole series of cardinals, where each cardinal has its own personality.


Q: What is the idea behind “Bartholomeux Taken by the Piccolo”?

A: I thought it would be interesting to have Bartholomeux embodying the festival where the cardinals represent all the individual performers. If you look at the poster, you will see that one cardinal is an opera singer, another one is a musical conductor, another a guitar player and so on.


Q: What is the role of Bartholomeux in the poster?

A: He is like a leader of the other artists, which is like what all festivals are about. If you bring all of these different performers and artists together, it is more than just the individual parts.

Published in The Post and Courier on June 4, 2013

Review: Tales Transposed, art at City Gallery

By Lucía Camargo Rojas

The infinite possibilities for telling stories through sculpture, painting and collage are evident throughout the Piccolo Spoleto arts exhibition “Tales Transposed: A Celebration of Imagination.” But Nathan Durfee’s work catches more than its share of attention, demonstrating why he deserves the entire first floor of the City Gallery at Waterfront Park.

Durfee is a magician of contrasts. Complementary colors as well as characters harmonize in his work as if they were made for one another. The 24 bright canvases clearly show his desire to depict an understanding between characters from different worlds.

The main character in this series, the dog Bartholomeux, plays the flute or a record player in order to speak the language of the cardinal birds. In the outstanding canvas “Bartholomeux Swallowed in the Red,” the dog is delightfully surrounded by several birds to the point where the two species seem to become one.

Durfee’s strongest tool is his ability to use his background as an illustrator to paint colorful canvases that tell a story. Seeing several of his paintings becomes a reading experience that makes you want to organize Bartholomeux’s transformation chronologically. Durfee’s imagination captivates from beginning to end. Comparing his first pencil drafts with his finished works gives a sense of how this remarkable artist develops his ideas.

The exploration of stories continues on the second floor of the exhibition, with the collages of Lillian Trettin and the sculptures of Judy Mooney.

Trettin’s work is risky. She carefully cuts handmade, hand-painted and commercial papers, then reassembles the pieces to create satirical and colorful scenes based on Flannery O’Connor novels. Some of her pieces are extremely powerful, like “Jesus Was the Jagged Shape in the Back of His Mind” (2012), inspired by O’Connor’s “Wise Blood,” while others lack some energy.

Mooney’s pieces depict the stories of Gullah-Geechee people through rustic clay sculptures that respectfully evoke an ancestral knowledge. The artist’s research into Gullah traditions is evident in the compelling architectural pieces that seem to keep a secret that one would like to find.

Published in The Post and Courier on June 4, 2013

Video: Ballet Flamenco de Andalucía

Haga click en la imagen para ver el video

Por Nick DeSantis y Lucía Camargo Rojas. Publicado el 2 de junio de 2013 en The Post and Courier

Rubén Olmo, director artístico del Ballet Flamenco de Andalucía, explica el significado de su obra "Noche Andaluza" que se presentó en el Festival Spoleto 2013. /Rubén Olmo, Ballet Flamenco de Andalucía artistic director, explains the meaning of  the show "Noche Andaluza" performed in Spoleto Festival USA 2013.

Art of Recovery: Coping with mental illness

Image by Vinny Y. Huang/ Special to The Post and Courier

By Lucía Camargo Rojas

In the first of two Brent Ashley paintings at Circular Congregational Church, the artist is depicted as an abstract figure trying to balance seven red stars. The second, more realistic piece features bigger stars that are delicately placed to harmonize with Ashley’s more energetic body.

“In the first one, I’m confused and tired,” he said of the two works. “In the second one, I’m part of my present rather than disconnected from it.”

They represent two very distinct periods in Ashley’s life: before and after he began to be treated for Bipolar II disorder. They are among the 92 paintings shown in the “The Art of Recovery” exhibition, part of the Piccolo Spoleto Festival.

The exhibition, which was organized by the South Carolina Department of Mental Health, features artwork by people living with mental illness who use painting as a therapeutic tool, often because they were already interested in art.

The Department of Mental Health treats 100,000 patients a year in its 17 state centers, some of which have multiple clinics. Three centers — Greenville Mental Health Center, Coastal Empire Community Mental Health Center and Aiken Barnwell Community Mental Health Center — offer art classes.

Brian Marks was a mental health patient in the late 1990s and now is an art teacher in the Greenville office. Some of his pupils are among those exhibiting their work in “The Art of Recovery.”

“Psychotherapy can help heal the mind, but art takes a step further and helps to heal the soul as well,” Marks said.

The Art of Recovery program, which received the 2006 Elizabeth O’Neill Verner Governor’s Award for the Arts, frequently looks to exhibit these paintings in settings beyond the department’s administration buildings. Sue Perry, director of community resource development at the Department of Mental Health, said being part of Piccolo Spoleto was a dream come true for both staff members and artists.

Perry has been in charge of the program since its beginning in 2001. She believes that when patients show their art in public, their illness becomes secondary and they can see themselves first and foremost as artists.

For the festival, the Art of Recovery committee selected pieces related to recovery and hope. They also tried to include different painting media to show the diversity of artwork produced throughout the state.

All of the artists involved have stories related to their mental health struggles, Ashley said.

“There are a lot of things that people who have the illness don’t understand,” he said. “On this side you are sane, and on the other side you are crazy. You are walking on a tightrope between it.”

In cases like these, Marks said, art becomes an opportunity for people to express themselves when words may fail them.

Ashley believes that art helps him get control of his thoughts. “I went from being a college graduate to sleep as a homeless man in Arizona because I didn’t want to confront who I was,” he said.

But after undergoing therapy and getting back to his art, he began to believe in himself again. His hope is represented by the green hands in both of his current pieces — and especially by the second one, which clearly depicts someone looking toward the future.

Published in The Post and Courier on June 2, 2013

Flamenco dance writ large: Esteemed company to light up arena stage

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Flamenco dance writ large: Esteemed company to light up arena stage

Image by Miguel Ángel González. Especial for The Post and Courier

By Lucía Camargo Rojas

When the Spanish flamenco dancer and choreographer Ruben Olmo is on stage, he feels as though he’s spread his wings and started to fly. He believes in Nietzsche’s premise that dancing is a metaphor for thinking.

In “Noche Andaluza” (“Andalusian Night”), his first piece of choreography as artistic director of the renowned Ballet Flamenco de Andalucia, Olmo shows how dancing gives wings to body and mind. The Spoleto Festival show opens tonight and runs through June 2.

“Noche Andaluza” is an adaptation of “Metafora” (“Metaphor”), which was selected in a 2011 Spanish public competition as the production that would begin a new era for the company after it had been closed for two years.

The 17-year-old Ballet Flamenco de Andalucia is a state-sponsored company of Andalusia, Spain, that keeps alive the flame of large-format flamenco and Spanish classic ballet, according to the flamenco writer Juan Vergillos.

“With Olmo’s direction, the company has acquired youthfulness, new ideas for the choreography and a personal understanding of flamenco and Spanish dancing,” Vergillos said.

Olmo, 32, said he has been more or less in constant movement since he was 9, and that he has never limited himself to one style of dancing.

“Noche Andaluza” certainly showcases traditional flamenco — castanets, fans and bata de cola dresses — but it also depicts a more avant-garde style represented in the solo of one of the most important contemporary flamenco dancers, Pastora Galvan.

The production marks Galvan’s first performance since having a child. At the beginning, she didn’t feel in shape for the rehearsals; even the bata de cola was very heavy for her, she said. But “Noche Andaluza” quickly rejuvenated her. “I added my art, my picaresque and avant-garde dancing style and all my heart.”

Olmo and Galvan have studied together since they were children.

“We are like siblings,” Olmo said. “It has been a dream come true to have her as a guest while I’m directing.”

“Noche Andaluza” has everything you would expect in a flamenco ballet, according to Vergillos. “Charleston audiences probably will find it very eye-catching, showy and colorful,” he said, and it’s an unusual opportunity to see Galvan in collaboration with the group; she typically dances only for her own company.

“There is no tragedy or drama in Olmo’s choreographies,” Vergillos said. “He adds color and balance. He has a soft vision of a whole universe.”

“Metafora” has been performed in Greece, the U.K., Ecuador, Mexico, Colombia and several American cities, including Boston, Washington, D.C., and New York. This is a huge achievement for a company that prepared the production in just a month and a half, and with a reduced budget due to the current economic crisis in Spain.

“I had to adapt to the situation and to make this an artistic experience without much budget,” Olmo said. “At the end, we got good results.”

The 10 young dancers, who were selected from 400 candidates through public auditions, had to learn various dancing styles. But despite these different styles, Ballet Flamenco de Andalucia’s name gives a clear indication of Olmo’s main concern.

“Flamenco is a brand that we cannot mistreat,” he said.

Published in The Post and Courier on May 31, 2013

Review: Women of Lockerbie

The Post and Courier image

By Lucía Camargo Rojas

“Women of Lockerbie” is a moving play that deals with the psychological effects of a tragedy. Devorah Brevoort’s script, which hinges on the 1988 crash of Pan Am Flight 103 in Lockerbie, Scotland, tells the story of fictional characters whose grief for the loss of a loved one is transformative.

The play is being performed at the Chapel Theater by the College of Charleston Department of Theater and Dance as part of the Piccolo Spoleto Festival.

Madeline (Ryan Gunning) and Bill Livingston (Peter Spearman) are a couple from New Jersey who travel to Scotland seven years after the crash, hoping to find some belongings of their son, Adam. While the mother looks fiercely for her son’s remains, the father meets a group of women who wants to persuade U.S. government official George Jones (Bronson Taylor) not to burn the passenger’s clothing, sealed in bags.

At the beginning, the story’s pace is a bit slow, with the main characters not getting as much attention as, for example, a scene-stealing Scottish woman with a walking stick. Gradually, though, Madeline, an unstable woman unable to deal with her grief, becomes the center of the story.

Even though Gunning is a young woman, she convincingly portrays a mature mother, and among her finest moments is the delicate way she describes the realization that her son was on the plane.

Indeed, this vibrant role overshadowed that of her husband. One would expect a more dramatic explosion from a father who has hidden his feelings for so many years. Simultaneously, the character of Olive Allison (Brenna McNamara) is quite rigid, although she seems much more vivid when it becomes evident that she has also been affected by the crash.

What is remarkable about this play is the ability to depict the different aspects of grief: fault (“Why did I tell him to come for Christmas?”), anxiety, frustration (“Why did this happen to me?”) and hate, to the point that the audience shares the distress of the characters. The simple stage helps to create a mournful and respectful environment reinforced by a chorus that highlights the pain and simultaneously gives rhythm to the plot.

Even though Brevoort at times over-explains the characters’ pain, she does succeed in showing their need to achieve peace of mind.

The strength of “Women of Lockerbie” is its ability to describe suffering in a way that goes beyond a particular tragedy and applies to any calamity, and also the way it highlights the difficulty of true forgiveness.

With such dramatic scenes, several moments — featuring the chorus; Taylor’s strong performance; Allyson Musmeci’s funny portrayal of Hattie, who works for the U.S official; and especially a scene of the women washing the clothes — are a necessary relief for an audience seeking a similar serenity as the characters.

Published in The Post and Courier on May 27, 2013

Moveable sculpture: Handspring Puppet Company and ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’

Image by Simon Annand published in The Post and Courier

By Lucía Camargo Rojas

Handspring Puppet Company has made puppet horses strong enough for men to ride, puppets that fight apartheid in South Africa and much more.

For Spoleto Festival USA, the company will exhibit its latest invention: puppets that recite Shakespeare. They will add a magical element to a fantastical production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” the result of a collaboration between Handspring and the venerable Bristol Old Vic company.

“In ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream,’ everything from the floor goes up and sometimes comes alive,” Handspring Executive Producer Basil Jones said. “There is kind of magic in all the objects.”

Magic is central to the South African company’s artistic mission: Objects have the right to live.
“The struggle of the puppet is to live; otherwise, it is always death, and to give it life is the job of the puppeteer,” said Adrian Kohler, Handspring’s artistic director.

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream” is the first collaboration between Handspring and Bristol Old Vic since their Tony Award-winning “War Horse.”

The Shakespeare play is a new challenge for a puppet company that has helped integrate puppetry into the theater mainstream.

In this adaptation, Handspring experimented with figures they hadn’t made before: more than 20 carefully carved puppets from small birds to enormous masks.

The company is fearless and imaginative, showing the influence of Western Africa in its work, according to Mervyn Millar, author of “The Horse’s Mouth: Staging Morpurgo’s ‘War Horse.’ ”

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream” is also funny, Kohler said.

“All our plays have been a little bit serious, from political plays to opera,” he said. “We are not great at being comedians, but in Shakespeare’s play, we have broken the mold. There are some wonderful clowns, and it is very funny.”

Jones and Kohler founded Handspring in 1981. They met 10 years before, when they were studying sculpture at the University of Capetown.

Kohler grew up in a house that had a little theater in the garage, he said. His mother was an art teacher who encouraged him to make and perform with puppets. Their influence was evident in his artwork.

Jones, instead, wasn’t very interested in puppets until he graduated and went to live with Kohler in Botswana. During one trip to South Africa, Kohler found some weird puppets. When Jones saw them, he fell in love with them. The mysterious objects had been made in Mali, a region of Africa with a rich puppetry tradition.

When Kohler suggested starting a puppet company, Jones saw the potential.

They began by developing a series of children’s plays but turned to adult audiences in 1985 with “Episodes of an Easter Rising,” a play about people joining the struggle against apartheid in South Africa.

“We wanted to be taken seriously in the theater,” Kohler said. Puppetry is a powerful medium and certainly not only for children, he said.

In 1986, they moved to Johannesburg and met artist William Kentridge, who became the director of their next six productions. Four years later, after Nelson Mandela was released from prison and South Africa started to move toward democracy, it became possible for South African artists to perform overseas. With Kentridge, they performed in Germany, France, Czech Republic, U.S., England and Colombia.

Handspring still was characterized as a small company despite this growing success, but that changed in 2008, when it received a call from stage director Tom Morris, who then was working with the National Theater in London. He suggested creating puppets for a theater adaptation of a children’s novel about horses in World War I.

Kohler designed life-size puppet horses made with leather, aircraft and steel cables, and other material. It was the beginning of “War Horse,” a production that would win five Tony Awards in 2011, including Best Play, and enjoy successful runs around the world.

“When you are going into puppet theater, you aren’t expecting to have an international hit play in your hands,” Kohler said.

Now Handspring is in demand. Puppets are produced at a fast clip, and the staff has expanded from seven to 25. In 2010, Jones and Kohler created the nonprofit Handspring Trust for Puppetry Arts to identify and assist the next generation of puppet artists.

Millar said the company creates some of the most beautiful puppets in the world and has a quality of acting not easy to find.

“The level of subtlety that they give to a performance has changed what people expect from puppetry in theater,” Millar said. “They are always looking to make puppets do something people think puppets can’t do.”

Published in The Post and Courier on May 25, 2013

Uncaged: A Q&A with choreographer Mourad Merzouki

Image By Michael Cavalca published in The Post and Courier

By Briana Prevost and Lucía Camargo Rojas

In 2002, young dancers from the shantytowns of Brazil who had been discovered by a French choreographer, took to the Spoleto stage combining a mix of salsa, hip-hop and native capoeira movements into their choreography.

Mourad Merzouki, who has Algerian roots, started the all-male dance group several years earlier. It has since gone on to tour the world. At Spoleto again to perform for the first time in more than 10 years, the group is presenting a new production, “Correria/Agwa.”

In an email interview, Merzouki, the artistic director of Compagnie Kafig, discussed his dance background, his take on combining modern and traditional styles and his impression of the company he started.

Q: What do you remember the most about your last performance in Charleston?
A: We performed the show Dix Versions, I had a really good experience there.

Q: What made you write “Correria/Agwa”?
A: I wanted to tell a story on a universal theme, that means a lot to every people in every country. For Agwa, I wanted to work on a project which was not only linked to what we already know about Brazil, the favelas, etc. Water and running were very interesting to me because they concern dancers and also the rest of the world. In today’s society, we need to run, and water is a vital element.

Q: You started working in a circus and then became a hip-hop dancer. What are the similarities between circus and dance?
A: That is right, I first started with circus. I was an acrobat and I had a passion for performing arts. Hip-hop dance allowed me to bring both together. I also had a strong desire to share and introduce this form of art to the public.

Q: What does hip-hop have that other arts don’t?
A: Hip-hop dance is particularly interesting because it managed to shift from the streets to the stages, without being locked in one or the other. Both styles are developing and are complementary to each other, they still exchange a lot and dialogue together. For me, these two forms of expression are really different but equally important as sources of creativity, and I am still creating for both. In this way, hip-hop is very different from other dance traditions.

Q: What are the advantages and disadvantages of mixing different kinds of dancing and working with people with a variety of cultural backgrounds?
A: The advantages are that dance is a universal language, therefore we do not need words to understand each others. As far as dance is concerned, I only see advantages! Sometimes it becomes more complicated when we get into logistics, but I always find it interesting.

Q: What about the movements of capoeira urged you to include that type of dance in your routines?
A: In this piece, I did not particularly want to integrate capoeira or specific movements, I used the dancers’ vocabulary as a starting point, and, of course, we can felt some capoeira influences. But there are many other influences.

Q: First circus, then hip-hop, then samba, then capoeira. What’s next?
A: My approach is still to bring many different styles and artistic disciplines into hip-hop. I try to add circus, martial arts, visual arts and live music in most of my pieces. There are still martial arts aspects in street dance, it’s all connected. I am always imagining creations with an accent on openness to the world. I just ended a project with Taiwan, but it’s only the beginning. I hope I could have new projects with other countries, such as Japan, etc. I keep working on opening and sharing my way of dancing — hip-hop — to other styles and other cultures.

Q: Do you think the Brazilian dancers in the group have a sense of nationalism performing capoeira?
A: These dancers are very open-minded, curious of the rest of the world, and open-minded dancers. They don’t wonder about nationalism, on the contrary they’re eager to discover the world and they are very generous. Touring the world like they do is a wonderful and unique experience, and they are grateful for that.

Q: What types of cultural influences do you see that style of dance having not only in its country of origin, but also in the places the group has toured?
A: My work is deeply influenced by the artists I meet through my travels and the tours. But once the piece is created, it doesn’t change much, I try to stay as close as possible to the initial work.

Q: How was the experience of working with people who lived in the favelas?
A: I have been introduced to Brazilian dancers by Guy Darmet, who used to be the director of the Maison de la Danse in Lyon and lives between France and Brazil. He knew these dancers very well and as he has been following me for more than 20 years, he asked me to create a piece for them. These young dancers, mostly from Rio’s favelas, were dancing to express themselves, to exist, to survive ... the rhythm and the passion is really present within them. It really fascinated me and I decided to create the piece “Agwa” for them. When I first met these dancers, I really took their vocabulary as a starting point; I took their movements to create the piece. I also gave them “homework” and then my job was to connect the pieces and refine the whole choreography. For them, it is a very special experience because it totally changed their approach to dance. As they were initially dancing in the streets, they now became real professional dancers.

Q: Why “Kafig”? What does it mean?
A: In 1989, with a group of friends and dancers, we created the Company “Accrorap,” among them was Kader Attou, who is now the director of the Centre Choregraphique National of La Rochelle in France. After creating our piece “Kafig” in 1996, I wanted to put together my own project, more personal. This piece gave the name to my new company, Kafig which means “cage” in German and Arabic (in relation to the dancers’ backgrounds): the theme of this piece was about being locked up. We chose this theme because at the beginning, hip-hop was often locked up in one style and one specific representation. The point was to deliver the dance from this “cage,” to push it out of its boundaries.

Q: What are the characteristics of a performance made by Compagnie Kafig?
A: In my pieces, I try to tell stories on universal themes, and topics that mean a lot to every people in every countries. I don’t necessarily want to deliver a particular message through all my creations. For example in my last piece, “Yo Gee Ti” that I made with five contemporary dancers from Taiwan and five hip-hop dancers from France, I worked on the theme of fiber, knitting and building fabrics as if we were “sewing the bodies,” but the point is really to share some poetry and emotions through the piece. The objective is also to spread this form of dance, to make it accessible and also to raise awareness in all audiences. I am always imagining creations with an accent on openness to the world. I keep working on opening and sharing my way of dancing, hip-hop, to other styles and other cultures.

Q: How do you go about choosing the music that’s used to choreograph the dances?
A: I choose music that inspires me, that calls to my mind and reminds me of interesting topics. Then I choose according to what I want to tell. In these pieces, I did not want to choose music that would match too much to their styles, I wanted to push out the boundaries through music and dance, by using different styles together.

Q: What should the audience of the Spoleto Festival 2013 expect from Compagnie Kafig’s return performance?
A: I hope they will spend a great moment of dance with the Brazilian troupe, and that this piece will bring them inspiration, motivation and the willingness to open themselves to the rest of the world.

Published in The Post and Courier on May 24, 2013

Una fosa poética

A propósito de la proyección de la película "Todos tus muertos" en el Colombian Film Festival.

Por Lucía Camargo Rojas

Una cosa es ver Todos tus muertos en Bogotá, imagino, y otra verla en un auditorio en la ciudad de Nueva York repleto de colombianos. No porque la película sea mejor o peor de acuerdo a la ciudad en la que se proyecta, faltaba más. La cinta se defiende sola. Pero sí porque la cultura que describe y critica se resalta descaradamente cuando uno ha estado más de seis meses en medio de la rigidez, planeación y plano ambiente norteamericano.

Y es que cuando se ve la ineficiencia a la hora de tratar un caso tan delicado como la masacre de cincuenta personas en un pueblo del Valle del Cauca es que vuelve la sensación de absurdo e impotencia que se siente al estar en Colombia. Pero también el humor y la risa al ver que todos los personajes están al son de un poco de corrupción, un poco de vagabundería, un poco de fiesta.

La película me hizo pensar en lo que amo y odio de mi país. Amo el empuje y alegría de gran parte de su gente, amo sus paisajes, su calor. Pero odio que ante un problema espinoso nadie sepa qué hacer y todo el mundo se pase la bola sin resolverlo.

Todos tus muertos cuenta la historia de Salvador (Álvaro Rodríguez), un campesino bizco que un día de elecciones se encuentra con una fosa de 50 personas en su parcela. Angustiado, se dirige rápidamente a hablar primero con el alcalde, luego con la policía, luego con la prensa. Ninguno parece prestarle atención.
La impotencia de este campesino es la misma de miles de colombianos que han tenido que padecer el conflicto colombiano. Lo interesante es cómo Carlos Moreno, director de la película, muestra al espectador lo absurdo de una situación llevada al límite que nadie sabe cómo resolver.

La policía, el alcalde como representación del Estado, Salvador y su esposa cruzan miradas mientras están parados alrededor de la fosa y padecen el calor del Valle del Cauca. La tensión se agrava cada vez que el alcalde hace una llamada, los mosquitos los rodean y el calor los hace visualizar imágenes irreales, como se supone ocurre en un oasis.

La actuación de Álvaro Rodríguez es impecable. Es el bizco quien realmente puede ver, alejado de la telaraña de corrupción y favores que ahoga a los demás miembros del pueblo. Su manera de acercarse con respecto a las figuras de la ley y su miedo a poder ser castigado por un crimen que no ha cometido no son más que señales que denotan su sentimiento de inferioridad cuando, finalmente, es el único personaje admirable precisamente por su inocencia, pureza y humildad.

La fotografía es fabulosa. Los paisajes demuestran el esplendor del Valle y no hay nada como las tomas principales a la montaña de muertos. Sin embargo, algunas de las escenas pierden fuerza por el continuo movimiento de la cámara.

Los animales representados en la película se alejan de cualquier idealización de la naturaleza. La imagen de la anciana que se mece plácidamente mientras poco a poco va matando a un cucarrón que por cosas de la vida está debajo de la mecedora, no es más que una cruda visualización de cómo en Colombia nos vamos matando poco a poco, sin siquiera percatarnos.

Es, sin embargo, la imagen de la fosa la que recorre toda la película y por la que Todos tus muertos se aleja de producciones que cuentan el conflicto colombiano con cinismo y pasa a ser, realmente, una obra poética. La fosa no es más que la representación de un país que no ha sabido mirarse a sí mismo y resolver sus propios problemas. Más aún cuando se sabe que la historia es basada en un hecho noticioso. Una masacre publicada en un periódico de la que luego nadie dio razón de ser.

Alrededor de la pila de muertos están todos los miembros de una cultura que sabe pasarla bien en medio de tan problemática situación. El periodista que denuncia la masacre con el fin de chantajear al alcalde para hacerle pagar unas cuñas, el alcalde que hace lo que diga el mafioso de la zona, el policía que sólo atiende el caso de una masacre cuando acabe de comer. Es irónico cómo uno ríe a carcajadas al ver la ineptitud de los personajes. Es tal vez una risa nerviosa, esa que se produce cuando se ve la cruda verdad en su máximo esplendor. La risa del absurdo.

Pero en medio de tanta corrupción no es sólo Salvador quien saca la cara. También lo hace su esposa, quien hace el llamado que haría cualquier madre colombiana para intentar ser justos en medio de esta guerra espantosa. Al menos, dice ella, hay que devolver el cadáver a la madre que lo espera. El grito de la madre que resuena en medio de la guerra.

Aplausos, entonces, porque Todos tus muertos produce una sensación de doble filo al ser capaz de narrar, en tan sólo un par de horas, el conflicto colombiano con una mirada poética y respetuosa a las víctimas sin necesidad de ser un documental de derechos humanos, y simultáneamente, retratar con crudeza la ineptitud de la cultura colombiana, sacándonos más de una carcajada. Pocas veces he visto una crítica tan audaz de una forma tan hermosamente narrada. Ojalá vengan más películas así, llenas de un poco de comedia, un poco de drama y un poco de surrealismo.