Interview with La Farruca, bailaora. Flamenco interview

“I think people understand what's
happening in my life in my baile”

Silvia Calado, October 2005
Translation: Joseph Kopec

La Farruca dances once more. Another blow in life took her away from stages for several years. She took off her shoes and hung them up after her husband Juan el Moreno died when her children were still little, and when she put them back on “I had to look up and I saw monsters of nature”. Situated between two generations of great bailaores, she confesses that “it was really hard for me to become an artist; it took a lot of crying, a lot of suffering”. But the tears didn't dampen magical moments such as when she danced in London seven years ago “in a bata de cola and with my Alegría inside my belly”. She now recognizes her sons Farruquito and Farruco as artists who “will make history”. But there's still the youngest of her children: “Farruco has twelve grandchildren and the only one with a birthmark on his back in the shape of a hat is called Manuel el Carpetilla”. La Farruca gives her verdict, with her sights already set on her next show: ‘Gypsy Women and...

La Farruca (Photo: Daniel Muñoz)

What did you feel when you got out on stage once more?

Everything. Fear, joy, grief, excitement. Everything. It's like when someone's going to fall into a well; that sensation of height. I saw myself as small, I saw myself as big and lacking everything. Coming back was really great. I'd worked with my children looking down and now I had to look up and I saw monsters of nature … I felt very sheltered by them, but every drop on my forehead was blood, not sweat. Baile is something really important in my life; it has a place in my heart.

Are the hard circumstances in your life reflected in your way of dancing? Do you dance differently with grief?

Of course. How are you going to dance the same way with joy as with all my grief? You express your feelings when you dance; you rip out your heart... and you can tell that. I used to go out on stage before and I was worried about the kids, about their care, if their hair was combed, if they were well-dressed, if they were ready in their places... Now I have really great respect for them.

How would you describe the Farruco school of flamenco dancing? Is there also an attitude, besides certain featured steps?

Of course there is. It's the total respect for the artform. The steps are learned: heel, tip, stance... But before that is the sound of the heel … That's also an attitude, but I don't know how to say it; I express it. It's raising an eyebrow, a regard, your eyes. We gypsies are very expressive with our regards and gestures.

How did you learn to dance? Did you have classes with your father, or was flamenco learned naturally at your house?

I'm going to tell you my truth and I was really looking forward to this happening. I've never told this before in all my life, but I'm going to tell you. I've liked baile a lot since I was a little girl. My brother, may he rest in peace, had a mirror and a board at my parents' house where my father used to teach him to dance. I was going to school back then, but what I wanted was to put on a pair of shoes that were a gift to me from the Salao brothers. I'd lie to the teacher, telling her I had to take care of my niece, and to my mother, telling her there was no class. At the age of eleven my brother started to teach me classes, but unfortunately he passed away shortly thereafter. After a year and a half of mourning, my father grabbed us three sisters, and he made Pilar and me bailaoras. It's really hard for me to say it; it was really hard for me to become an artist. A lot of crying, a lot of suffering. Now I'm glad, but I had a really bad time of it. I'm telling it today because I felt like it and not as an anecdote, but as grandeur. I have no regrets; what I know today was really hard for me. I started to lose hope at one point because I had a really good maestro, a genius. Today I appreciate him, but back then, and God forgive me, I couldn't stand to see the sight of my father even in a picture.

Do you rehearse, or is your art the fruit of inspiration?

Usually inspiration, though you always have to touch it up so that it doesn't start to flake. Like when you paint a façade: if you don't give it a second coat of paint, it peels. You also have to look over some things with the musicians, but we're not very big on rehearsing.

La Farruca and Farruco (Frame from DVD 'Bodas de Gloria')

What is the moment in your career you remember most fondly?

	"I started to lose hope at one point because I had a really good maestro, a genius. Today I appreciate him, but back then, and God forgive me, I couldn't stand to see the sight of my father even in a picture"

Though I was already a little older, I already had Juan and Farruco, when I learned how to handle a bata de cola well. I was really excited. It was my turn to come out and I got lost in the theater. I was in Germany and I ended up out in the middle of the street, with snow falling and me dressed in a bata de cola. Or seven years ago in London. I also danced in a bata de cola and with my Alegría inside my belly. When I got to Seville, I gave birth. I gave all the musicians and my (husband) Moreno a good scare …

Recently, ‘Bodas de gloria’ was released on DVD. Besides baile, there are a lot of references to a way of life, to gypsies' relationship with nature, with the rivers. Has that been lost?

It really has a little. Though that's not my kind of life, but it's something the Farruco family carries deep inside; we need it. But we devote less and less time to it. My father was the instigator, the one who used to say let's all go to the river. He used to enjoy it.

That show told a story. However, your shows since then lack a storyline. Do you prefer to display clean flamenco, without any narration?

It depends, because there are times when it's also nice to express one of your experiences. But to us it's more logical to dance without storylines. There are times when you're tempted to express something about your life, about your ancestors, about your present.

How important is cante to your baile? Do you need a certain timbre or style to feel inspired? What current cantaores do you like?

A lot. It motivates me. Cante is more useful to me than a guitar. Like they say: “The way I dance for you depends on how you sing for me”. Just compás, with clapping or (tapping) on the table, without any cante. What basis does it have? Right now, I'm not going to talk about the past, Antonio Zúñiga is the cantaor who motivates me the most, with all due respect to the other cantaores.

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