It shouldn’t surprise us that, upon entering here, someone should remind us the words of that old sage:
-“Woman does not exist.
There is only the human person fallen on Woman’s side.”-
Whatever the case be, it surely is indispensable material for Sol Picó when she’s to confront the Womanly.
Few entrances interest her.
But if there is one for which she bears a weakness (in all meanings of the word), it’s that which leads her directly to the rattrap of the barbarous, the savage, of living it all to the limit, ‘till she bursts.
It was but a dream, a bluff of the “Picotian” world, a grotesque wink upon the us and them.
And yet again…
So she speaks when comes the moment to contaminate the scene and people it with beings straight from the suburbia of her own exile (which is already an exile!), beings who accept to reconvert her obsessions into performance, into dishes for our delight.
A performance which explores ‘Woman’s’ universe. Nine female performers, six dancers and three musicians who, during sixty minutes, dedicate themselves to the construction and deconstruction of the female imaginary.
Sol once more takes us on a stroll through her personal world of rituals. The performers lead us to Sol’s subconscious world from which spill over, as from a cocktail shaker, imaginary sites, impossible relationships.
Those qualities historically associated with the female condition –beauty, vulnerability –contrast with the harsher side, energetic and combative, which women must assume in real life.
Dancers, poets, painters, housewives…trapped in their mirror, turn into gingerbread figures, statues of salt, heroines of tales and legends.
In this vertiginous shift towards absurdity all barriers of gender turn to dust: woman is masculine, dance transforms into theatre and classical music into Samba, French chanson and techno Sardana, without forgetting the traditional steps of Holy Week or the traditional procession towards feverish Saturday night’s disco. Yet another passionate gift.