c-h-ao-grrround

Reborn. Die. At a certain point, the verbal sentences – supposedly ambivalent – are reiterated and characterize “c h ãO,” work that runs after instability to check what it can offer in terms of potential. On the sliding linoleum, six performers and co-creators, one of them at the piano, cross a tangle of actions as if their bodies were seismographs. As the world around them hangs, axes swing without losing their tenderness and vibrancy.

The audience is in front of a fragmentary and incomplete play that borrows the tremulous from the music – also known as the sound of doubt – and the dissonance to think of tension as a vibrant bond and not only as a break.

The directors Marcela Levi and Lucía Russo evoke the tritone, a dissonant interval often used in thriller films, also known as the devil’s interval. Its sound gives the idea of movement and instability, and when it is not accompanied by a resolution chord, the listener is distressed and tense because the tritone brings a “need” to be resolved. Dissonance in music does not resolve. It suspends.

Suspend yourself, hang yourself in an interval, a gap in time between up and down, between one side and the other, launching yourself into instability, trepidation, groove. Tap the ground to jump again and get back to the ground. Tap the feet on the ground to raise dust, suspended particles. Hit the ground, shake the earth, make distant bodies tremble.

When the work was presented at the Belgian festival KFDA (Kunstenfestivaldesarts) in 2021, the art critic Sylvia Botella wrote in the French magazine: “Toute la Culture” that “it is not the unfolding of a dance piece, harmoniously arranged with autonomous images linked each other for a political message to be transmitted about Brazil. Above all, it is a surprising and radiant dance floor. It frees. The community is endless there.”