MADRID’S WHITE NIGHT 2010. ISRAEL GALVÁN, ‘SOLO’
Confessions
Silvia Calado. Madrid, September 11th, 2010
‘Solo’. Israel
Galván: baile and choreography. White Night
2010. Teatro Abadía. Madrid, September 11th, 2010.
9 p.m.
Israel Galván,
'Solo'. Noche en Blanco 2010 Madrid (Photo Daniel
Muñoz) |
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The high altar of the former abbey is now
a stage. But it still smells like missal, like gospel, like
sin. The large Gothic windows are now blinded by dark blue
paint which will never fade to black tonight. Israel
Galván left the lights on, as if wishing for
his silent confessions to be heard by gods, saints, parish
priests, shadows and parishioners.
The usherette, attired completely in black,
rang the bell. Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to
begin. And the bailaor comes out on stage through the central
chapel, suddenly putting an end to the hustle and bustle
of the mixed crowd, imposing a hurtful silence in the hall-temple.
Without guitar, without cante, without anything. His concise
figure, streamlined body, black cover except his hands,
face and forearms. Regard and stance. And little by little,
he opens the debate between stillness and motion. Wonder
who could guess what music he’s listening to inside.
The dance becomes abstract, but his abstraction
stems from something precise, from a root which far from
cutting, he waters. He splits the canons, sophisticates
them, parodies them. And all of it leads him to purify a
style more and more his own, firmer and firmer, more and
more applauded. He bursts, finishes off, soars. A lost olé.
Self-jaleo which is pure anguish. And he starts a fight
against an adversary that is only seen when a spotlight
shines, projecting his shadow… since he is alone.
Alone against himself.
After confessing in the right chapel of
the apse, since the space and its atmosphere are part of
the work under way here, he forces, disturbs and soars again.
The complexity of it isn’t just technical, but also
psychological. And he stands still and turns his back and
twelve and four and he dances to the wall and dances obliquely
and seeks the shadows… and confesses once more. And
nobody breathes.
Until he is cajoled into a strange fiesta
por bulerías, with his shirt now stuck to him with
sweat, with his skin like shiny wax. Until he breaks out
singing with a finite voice, with lyrics of blood and poison…
marking the beat for himself with a hint of joking on his
face. Until then, nobody breathed.
Israel
Galván, 'Solo'. Noche en Blanco 2010 Madrid
(Photo Daniel
Muñoz) |
Israel
Galván, 'Solo'. Noche en Blanco 2010 Madrid
(Photo Daniel
Muñoz) |
And then Israel
Galván offered two more performances
of ‘Solo’ at the Teatro Abadía
in Madrid, as one of the great many activities
that lured over seven hundred thousand people
out into the streets of the Spanish capital
on this White Night 2010. (A forum, by the way,
which usually only has room for flamenco of
the experimental kind, like that which Artomatico
took to La Casa Encendida in the 2008 edition).
But this galvanic triad on this late night for
night owls was also the prelude to the performances
of ‘La edad de oro’ (September 16th
and 17th) - together with David
Lagos on cante and Alfredo Lagos on toque
- and ‘Solo’ (September 18th and
19th) he’s getting ready to offer in a
few days at this same venue nearly as singular
as his dance.
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