'ANITA ESCORRE BRANCO'
A performance in two parts: the world & the manifesto, 2018
at Rua das Gaivotas 6 and Festival Iminente
“Anita escorre branco” was a performance in two spaces and years, read
as a manifesto for an openly trans performative space. Aware of the
exotification of the trans body in the performing arts, the performance
dealt with the possibility of world-making within the economy of looking
of “performer-spectator”.
Led light drops braiding my hair
the tips of the fingers painted with colours mixed and unmatched
delay on the bell chimes sound - echoing through every material in the room
it's vibration becomes each molecule of my body until
i recognize something within "me" - it is solid and eroded as a rock
a beach of desires sand of unfinished businesses
blue lashes and sparkling cheeks
i am outside abstraction
everything reflects it's own figurativity - making it a sensation as dense as anxiety
figures affirm themselves until the point of unrecognition they are full of themselves but they are
also full of every other figure in the room
description achieved it's limit
it vomits throws up pisses
it gives its last breath with a poem:
My body enters the scenic display and the fiction is corrupted. I am a limbic poison, a haunt coming
from a margin this display allowed to die. We enter in it as proof that the reality-myth still exists,
that there are still other possibilities to explore - that there are monsters, desires, surprises that those
who watch don’t know of. We are what feeds your fear of the post-modern. The unconfirmation of
truth. On stage, my state as fable-representation-dillema de-structures illusion, the natural, the
invisible performance of all the elements that constitute that display that we call “theatre”,
“blackbox”, “stage”, “there”. (I am too real and too fake, they say). “There” not as pure “othering”
but as a mirror - Shakespeare said that theatre mirrors nature - LIES. Lies because HEY I’M there :
I am not nature. BUT HEY: representation supposedly mirrors (or better - reproduces) to
subjectivity an objectivity that is assumed to exist outside of it. Oh well, that objectivity doesn’t
exist, specially if I’m talking about my transgender body. What is said to be “my sex” is not
coherent with what I say it is “My gender” so there is no materiality that sustains the mirror of
representation. The state of Trans is to be un-mirroring, it is to break the mirror and be damned to
year of bad luck - it is to be broken, partial.
