When Duende Wins, by Takeo Rivera
PROLOGUE:
The Spanish poet and playwright García Lorca was in search of duende. Duende is the essence of what gives good art life. He said that the duende is "a power, not a work. It is a struggle, not a thought. The duende is not in the throat; the duende climbs up inside you, from the soles of the feet. Meaning this: it is not a question of ability, but of true, living style, of blood, of the most ancient culture, of spontaneous creation.... The true fight is with the duende." There is no word in English for duende. Spanish-English dictionaries will spit it out like sunflower seeds, and Microsoft Word keeps it red and underlined. As if something is wrong with it. As if something is wrong with life itself. Duende is life, something oft-forgotten in these days devoid of touch. After all, what is art but an attempt to capture the intangible?
And what is life without love?
Love without speech?
Speech without lips?
Lips without shapes?
Words.
Words are dewdrops
Eardrums are tastebuds
So some days it seems like it's raining
When we kiss, our tongues lick the roofs of our mouths
And we inhale each other's words
Before they're spoken.
What are we looking for?
Love.
What are we looking for?
Life.
Speech.
Shapes.
The shapeless. The duende.
I love Takeo. He wrote a beautiful play that I got to direct five wonderful people in for twelve hours, as a part of the 24 hour play festival which began friday at 8pm and went up saturday at 8pm. It really was a fantastic experience. Julia, Alex, Ilana, Mike and Gabe, thanks for being so awesome!!! Woohoo! We've got so many great memories now.
It is time for us to find lips to shape again.
Cabaret auditions are in swing. It's so freaking exciting. AAAAAHHH!!!! More later... :-)
The Spanish poet and playwright García Lorca was in search of duende. Duende is the essence of what gives good art life. He said that the duende is "a power, not a work. It is a struggle, not a thought. The duende is not in the throat; the duende climbs up inside you, from the soles of the feet. Meaning this: it is not a question of ability, but of true, living style, of blood, of the most ancient culture, of spontaneous creation.... The true fight is with the duende." There is no word in English for duende. Spanish-English dictionaries will spit it out like sunflower seeds, and Microsoft Word keeps it red and underlined. As if something is wrong with it. As if something is wrong with life itself. Duende is life, something oft-forgotten in these days devoid of touch. After all, what is art but an attempt to capture the intangible?
And what is life without love?
Love without speech?
Speech without lips?
Lips without shapes?
Words.
Words are dewdrops
Eardrums are tastebuds
So some days it seems like it's raining
When we kiss, our tongues lick the roofs of our mouths
And we inhale each other's words
Before they're spoken.
What are we looking for?
Love.
What are we looking for?
Life.
Speech.
Shapes.
The shapeless. The duende.
I love Takeo. He wrote a beautiful play that I got to direct five wonderful people in for twelve hours, as a part of the 24 hour play festival which began friday at 8pm and went up saturday at 8pm. It really was a fantastic experience. Julia, Alex, Ilana, Mike and Gabe, thanks for being so awesome!!! Woohoo! We've got so many great memories now.
It is time for us to find lips to shape again.
Cabaret auditions are in swing. It's so freaking exciting. AAAAAHHH!!!! More later... :-)