Flamenco x 2. Chloé Brûle-Dauphin & Marco Vargas, bailaores

“You don't have to leave flamenco behind
to take a new direction, to find a new system”

Silvia Calado. Mont de Marsan, July 2007

Perhaps one day you'll be out strolling, and all of a sudden you bump into a pair of bailaores performing right there in the street. Chloé Brûlé-Dauphin aand Marco Vargas decided a while back to break free from the limitations of the theater and make any public square their stage... and the pedestrians their audience. And what originally seemed like a bold gimmick has become a successful project. ‘Las 24. Cuando uno quiere y el otro no’, winner of several scenic arts awards, has now played at leading festivals such as Festival Flamenco de Mont de Marsan or Mérida's Classical Theater Festival. So the project looks set to grow. There's already a version for the theater and a new show on its way. And all thanks to risk-taking.

Chloé Brûlé-Dauphin and Marco Vargas (Photo Daniel Muñoz)

‘Inmigración’ was the meeting place. Chloé Brûle-Dauphin and Marco Vargas formed part of the line-up for that show in Ángeles Gabaldón's company . They didn't know each other personally, but “there was a fleeting moment that we were like partners”, the bailaora recalls. And it all started there. Someone spotted the chemistry and suggested they should go out onto the streets together during Seville's dance season - the 'Mes de Danza'. So it was at the feet of the magnificent Giralda tower that the première of ‘Las 24. Cuando uno quiere y el otro no’ took place.

'When one wants to but the other doesn't', the title says, but this time they both wanted to. Marco recalls that “we came from doing flamenco in theaters and the experience of dancing in the street had its allure.” The Seville-born bailaor came from large companies such as the Compañía Andaluza de Danza and La Cuadra. The Canadian bailaora worked with those of Israel Galván and Javier Latorre. Chloé admits that, after those projects, they craved “the risk, the challenge.” And the fact is it had never been done before: “We didn't know of anybody that had done it, and there was nothing to base our work on. It was about setting up a project of our own, experimenting,” explains the bailaor.

What was the preparation work like, the evolution in the studio?

	Marco Vargas (Foto Daniel Muñoz)

Marco: When we came up with the idea of doing the street performance, we stood opposite one another and said OK, there are two of us, we're a partnership.

Chloé: A man and a woman. We had to tell the world something about us.

M: As we developed the idea we loved to make generalizations so that people could see themselves reflected. We didn't want to make it something personal, but rather something that people could identify with. ‘Las 24’ had to be a story about living together.

C: We also just played it by ear. We started off not knowing where we were going to finish, with only a selection of music.

What role does the music play in the show?

M: Right from the start, the music laid down a few rules.

C: If we don't have the music as a starting point it's hard work. We started with a track, we saw it went with a particular situation, that situation led us to another, then another...

M: We chose musical styles that said something to us, that contributed something. And although a lot is drawn from other genres, to us they sound flamenco because of the approach, the rhythm and because of our training. Every tune allows us to tell the story we want.

What's going on in each song?

Chloé Brûlé-Dauphin (Photo Daniel Muñoz)

C: The first song, for example, is ‘Ne me quitte pas’, a different version from the Jacques Brel one. It's a song of affection, of embraces, of sweetness. It's the music we use to make up... on the kitchen table. (She laughs). That moment when everything comes out into the open. Later we also used a soleá by Sabicas, which is a point of inner reflection.

M: An intimate moment. We thought that a soleá - and above all one from Sabicas - was what best reflected that situation. And if a guitar por soleá had to resound on the streets, we preferred it to be Sabicas rather than some other kind of guitarist.

C: That vintage flavor and that forcefulness took each of us to our own inner world. He's there at the table and I'm in another room. It reflects that dramatic moment.

M: Then the music at the end - the longest piece - for us is a bit of fun, the reconciliation... We found this music interesting, mostly because of the rhythm changes. It starts up one way and then it goes off wandering in territories like salsa, tangos. It kind of represents a blend of cultures. Besides that we thought it was really close to modern-day flamenco, more open to other influences, more international.

C: By the way, yesterday Salia told me she saw the show with a few Moroccan friends and said they were really happy because that song is in Arabic. And since here in the South of France there are certain tensions with the Arabs, they were really happy and proud at this reference from their culture.

But as well as recorded music, there's one live cante flamenco...

M: The last flamenco song really did strike us. It's a toná-debla by Rafael Rafael Romero ‘El Gallina’, a true heavyweight - just listen to the lyrics. At the end he says: “If you put yourself in my place”. And it's the only time she sits in my chair and I sit in hers. There's our underlying message. We also wanted the vocals to be live at that moment.

Chloé Brûlé-Dauphin and Marco Vargas (Photo Daniel Muñoz)

C: We needed that flamenco touch, after all the recorded music. Although, well, we like working that way and it just needed to be like that because of the setup. But it was very important to have that last flamenco touch, that live cante, a real voice, a real person.

M: We also played with the element of surprise as he steps out of the audience. In the beginning we told the cantaores to just stay among the crowd and to come out as if all of a sudden they couldn't hold back any more, and just needed to sing, to tell this couple “Hey, pull yourselves together”.

C: Often people thought some idiot from the crowd had jumped in to spoil the performance. But then when they started to sing, everybody stood open-mouthed.

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