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EVA YERBABUENA: "I DON'T CONSIDER THE PRIZE TO BE MINE"
After being awarded the Premio Nacional
de Danza, the dancer takes stock of dancing and of her career
Fermín Lobatón
There has always been an odd contradiction in Eva Yerbabuena. She was the favorite
of all her dancer friends, of a great many critics and of any flamenco-lover worth
his salt. But, surprisingly, she never achieved much popularity. Her professional
career seemed to progress in way that was both serious and subdued, in exactly
the same fashion that she moves through life. So an honor of this sort might have
upset all that sobriety, but this has not happened. Several weeks after receiving
the prize, the dancer is as unperturbed as the day she received the news. To visit
her in the small town in Seville where she resides is to discover the same young
woman as always, who feels a deep respect for the art and muses out loud about
her work with no concern for the trials and tribulations of success. True to her
path and her manner of being, she underlines the factor of surprise.
Eva Yerbabuena
Why? Is it that you didn't feel you had gotten a fair shake from the critics
or the establishment?
The critics are what I can least complain about. And the establishment...well,
it exists, and it's not as if they're going to come to your house to see what's
happening. I also realize that I'm an extremely timid person and I don't like
to annoy anybody. I go through torture when I have to ask for something, but with
time you begin to understand that if you don't speak up, no one notices you, and
that's just what they tell you all the time. The surprise was simply because I
never imagined that I could reach that point, not by a long shot. Like when we
had to fill in about the Max prizes; we did it, but I was reluctant. Maybe because
I'm too involved in what I'm doing so I'm not concerned with other things, and
somehow I don't think that's what artists are supposed to do. In any case, of
all the things the prize brought, the best part was all the people who were happy
for me and who telephoned. I was like when you're paralyzed and can't move, but
everyone else, friends and everyone, that was the most moving thing.
The prize is called the "National Dance Prize". Do you feel it
adds dignity to flamenco dance?
If anything about the prize makes me feel proud, it's for flamenco. Because
it's a great satisfaction to know that there are people who follow your career
and recognize it. But also, naturally, it's a prize for flamenco which this year
also was awarded the prize for music with Carmen Linares. It's that you reach
a point where you no longer look at it as something that belongs to you. I don't
consider the prize to be mine, because it isn't. I've always wanted to be truthful
to myself and I don't want to change in that aspect. If I do what I'm doing, it's
because I was born with this gift. You learn from others, from accomplished artists
and from unknowns, and I've had the good fortune always to be surrounded by people
who taught me - both in the artistic sense and in the personal - the flamenco
which I now express on stage. I also believe there is a teacher that is the greatest
one you can have, and that is time, because when you start out at the age of twelve
you can't think and feel the same as when you're thirty-one as I am now.
I assume you're aware that as a result of the prize some things might change,
because up to now you've had a very comfortable position so to speak, as far as
your personal characteristics. Your friends gave you a lot of support, but you
didn't have many public obligations. Now this may change, how do you think that
might affect you?
The popularity thing scares me, first of all because I'm timid and I value
my privacy, but I also have to take into consideration that if I don't become
known - as an artist I mean to say - there isn't much I can do for flamenco. So
people have to become familiar with my work. So I understand that nowadays it's
absolutely necessary to get media exposure, but mind you, it depends on what media,
and what we speak about in those media. That's the crux of the matter.
Eva Yerbabuena (Photo: Anahí Carmody)
In one important medium you were referred to as the "dancer of fashion",
and apparently you didn't like that...
Fashion...what fashion? I wouldn't like to be the dancer of fashion if we're
talking about the fashion of one year. So next year another one, right? I think
you throw yourself into it for other reasons. To live and work at what you enjoy
is already the greatest prize that you can have. But you have to be aware that
you're not going to be up there your whole life. The idea is that others should
be able to get the most out of what you might be capable of doing on stage. Needless
to say, all things eventually end, and anyhow, not everything is about getting
up on a stage.
Before winning the prize you had put together some new things that we found
interesting and that we'd like you to comment on. For example, there's the agreement
with Seville's Lope de Vega theater. You've always considered your company like
one big family. In fact, the first thing you did with the prize was to dedicate
it to Edu Lozano who is recovering from his accident. Would you say that with
this agreement the family has found a home?
I hope so. With the agreement we are now able to depend on the theater to present
any new work. The thing is, there are still some details that have to be worked
out, and some wonderful projects that have to be looked at to see how they're
going to develop. Not everything we want to do is easy, and besides, you have
to bide your time.
It appears that within Andalusia the idea of a resident company is a pioneering
concept without precedent.
No, there isn't any precedent, and I'm very happy because it's not easy to
be an independent company. A lot of people depend on you. And mind you, I've always
been fortunate enough that the people who have come with me have been enthusiastic
and very pleased to be in the group. I've never had to run things alone. And now,
the most important thing is to have a fixed locale where we can have all the time
we need. And also, the Lope de Vega is a very unique theater for me, it's got
something very special. And not just because I premiered my first work there.
It's that I'm a person who needs to feel the proximity of the audience and get
good vibrations - I feel that there. The Lope de Vega is like a little box of
chocolates.
(The reference to its being a small theater, almost made to her size, makes
her laugh openly)
As far as the change of manager, how would you evaluate that? (Eva
has been working with Lucho Ferruzzo for several months).
Your manager isn't just someone who finds work for you, he has to know you,
to know what you like. Everyone has to have their job and you have to sit down
and make perfectly clear what you want. I have no interest in appearing in the
gossip columns, and whenever I go somewhere it has to be made clear that I will
only discuss my work. More often than not you have to make your own decisions.
You can't blame the manager all the time either. Lucho may have the reputation
he has, but there are few people who can do what he does.
You just returned from Wuppertal, the Pina Baush theater. What did you present
there, "5 Mujeres 5", or are you still continuing with "Eva"
I really have a hard time "terminating" a show. "Eva" will
go on as long as people keep asking for it.
How many times have you presented it?
Wow, it must be around three hundred. It's a show that hasn't stopped for a
moment. Now we're taking it to France, and afterwards to the United States and
Brazil. Until June when we go to London for one week. In between we have a tour
of Spain in February and March, but already "5 Mujeres..." also has
to have reached around the three hundred mark.
Can you tell us something about your new show? Is there a date for the debut?
If everything goes according to plan, it will premiere at the Bienal, at the
Lope de Vega of course.
And that's all? We'd like to know if it's going to be a show with a story
line, who's directing it, if there's any special invited artist...
I don't think I should jump the gun. I know I'm going to work once more with
Hanzel Cerezo, and there's going to be a special guest actor. It's no secret that
I'm very interested in theater. Oh! and yes, there is a story line, but I don't
want to reveal it just yet.
For that matter, you've always expressed your preference for pure, traditional
flamenco dance. Is this type of work receptive to real flamenco?
Of course. As far as I'm concerned, dance is the basic instrument at my disposition
for expressing feelings. Flamenco is the best vehicle to say what you want to
say. It's so rich and versatile, and at the same time technical, and it's unsettling.
I don't see any limits.
And when you get into a dance, is everything set beforehand, or is there
room for improvisation?
For me there's an odd and fundamental thing about flamenco which is the possibility
of playing around with improvisation. It's the expression of the moment and it
depends on your state of mind, but it doesn't solely depend on you. You've got
seven people behind you and they're going to see to it that there's a balance
between you and them. There's infinite leeway. They're the ones who start out
giving the orders, and you give them to the audience and the audience gives them
back to you...
You've always shown special concern for the physical preparation for dancing.
In fact you're a pioneer in hiding away somewhere to meditate, the way athletes
do, in a mountain retreat. Do you believe that kind of preparation gives you the
capacity to better express yourself?
Absolutely.
Do you perhaps sometimes feel that you're lacking the sufficient strength
to express everything that you have inside of you?
It's a funny thing because sometimes you feel like that's exactly what's happening,
and it's as if your heart were beating all at once. You feel like you ran out
of time and you think "god, why couldn't I keep going?!" Something is
missing here and you never really know what it is - it's something you can only
discover going off alone somewhere. You need to know yourself and return to your
center always. Know your body and know what it's capable of...why doesn't this
move when I want it to move...
Technique and choreography, how do they get on?
You can't separate the two. Technique is necessary, but afterwards it has to
be at your service when you use it in a choreography - if not, it's no good. You
set a choreography. You create movements and when the moment arrives to do them
you need that technique. It's something you have to learn step by step. You have
to be alone and look at yourself as if you were looking at someone else.
And lastly, since you always describe yourself as a shy person, is it possible
that dance is like an alternative or therapeutic means of expression?
Totally therapeutic. I always say it, it's therapy for me. Dance is my 'cover'.
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