(Clasificación A // Rated A)
Mi
condición de ciudadano globalizado y posmoderno me llevó a una situación
extrañísima, al menos así les parecerá a aquellos que no sean posmodernos. Mi
novia (también posmodernista) y yo habíamos acordado no tener hijos nunca en la
vida. Nuestros respectivos padres (nada posmodernos) no aceptaban nuestra
decisión; así que, complotando para hacernos cambiar de parecer, lograron
dejarnos a cargo de siete niños (parientes y vecinos) durante todo un fin de
semana.
Un día lo gastamos con videojuegos
de violencia extrema y comida chatarra. El segundo lo pasamos viendo películas
de terror y pizzas de mil sabores. Pero el último día, cansados del sillón, nos
fuimos al CENART a un eventillo literario para jóvenes. Sinceramente, fue una
estupenda idea porque, en cuanto arribamos, los chamacos se pusieron a leer con
la misma emoción con que jugaban HALO. Al menos, así, podríamos demostrar a
nuestros parientes que nuestra decisión de no tener hijos no era por carencia
de habilidades para educarlos.
En fin, esta pequeña cronicómica no
se trata sobre mi experiencia como niñera (¿a quién podría interesarle eso?),
sino sobre lo que vi …viví… en aquel picnic literario. No haré spoiler, sólo
extenderé la recomendación, pues en verdad es algo de lo mejor que he visto en
mi vida, en lo que refiere a producto artístico.
Si alguna vez encuentran programado
en cartelera el Picnic en el País de las
Maravillas a cargo de Alas y Raíces
de CONACULTA, ¡vayan a verlo! Que no les importe cuánto cueste —yo lo vi
gratis, por cierto— ni qué tan lejos esté, la verdad es que sí lo vale; les
aseguro que será una de las mejores experiencias que podrán presenciar en la
vida.
…y si van, ¡me invitan! J
— — — — — — — — — —
Being a postmodernist kind of man with a postmodernist
lifestyle and a postmodernist way of thinking, I somehow ended up enrolled in a
postmodernist relation with a postmodernist kind of woman. I speak with
emphasis on the postmodernist part due to the rumours I have heard, the blogs I
have read and the courses I have attended, which describe postmodernism just the
way I would describe myself. Sincerely, I do not wholly overstand what
postmodernism is, but my significant other says we are a postmodernist couple
just because, since the very beginning of our relation, we have come to the
agreement of not having any children... ever in life!
However,
neither my parents nor hers liked our decision of not becoming parents even
adoptive ones. Thus, one april’s day, they ―altogether with some hardly known
relatives and some close friends likewise― managed to leave us both, one whole
weekend, with seven little children: her youngest sister, two of my nephews and
one niece, her two little cousins and also, if that would not be enough, her
nine-year-old neighbour.
I
considered the easiest solution: violent video games, tons of junk food, horror
movies late at night and a visit to the nearest ¡Recórcholis! store. Nonetheless, having hipster likes and with the
intention of giving our parents a lesson about our ability to cope with
children, my significant other looked on the internet for some familiar events
with recreational activities. That
is how she found this Día de campo
literario por el Día Internacional del Libro Infantil y Juvenil – Una canasta
para todos, which was presenting at the Centro
Nacional de las Artes (CENART) precisely that weekend. Moreover, the entrance was for free.
No
sooner had we arrived than our babysats were already reading every book they
found interesting on their way. We let them go and run and play and read
whatever they wanted, for we were quite sure that CENART was well protected by
many police officers and that it was a safe place for them to be looking around
freely.
What
is this all about? It is not about babysitting, it is not about books, it is
not about postmodernism. It is about what I lived that day, what I saw in there,
and overall what I learnt by being there. I thought there was nothing there for
me, for it was a very childish event. But, thence, a special show was announced: Picnic en el País de las Maravillas presented by Alas y Raíces de CONACULTA (Consejo
Nacional para la Cultura y las Artes). The play
was an adaptation of the book Alice in
Wonderland by Lewis Carroll.
In
the beginning, I thought it was going to be a common play with some false
actors trying to make children laugh, disappointing all parents with their
hypocritical scripts.
How
mistaken I was.
Firstly,
there was no stage. Hard to believe, but there was not. The play was rehearsed
all around the garden (the backyard) of CENART. There were actors everywhere;
here and there one could see, or at least hear, scenes taking place at the same
time.
Secondly,
it was not just a play. There were also people reading fragments of the book,
in both English and Spanish, meanwhile some others acted out those fragments.
Thirdly,
the scenography was unnecessary due to the nature of the garden which was
enough scenography.
Fourthly,
there were some guitarists and flutists playing. But they could only be heard
on a small part of the garden, because there were no microphones on the
instruments to expand the sound of the music all along the place.
Fifthly,
I am not sure how many actors took part on the play, for they were too many and
for they were mixed with the public; it was hard to distinguish how many were
real audience and how many were part of the show. Nonetheless, the ones who are
essential were clearly recognizable: Alice, the Mad Hatter, Cheshire Cat, the
White Rabbit and the Queen of Hearts.
Sixthly,
there was no sequence of scenes or characters. None of them stopped at any
time. They went on with their scenes even if Alice ―the main character― left
that scene to meet another one. It was really a wonderful representation; it
was pretty crazy.
However,
what is important about this is the message within the play, the essence of the
show itself, and the teaching it gave to me: Theatre, as life, can be different...
can be wonderful!
...and
if theatre and life can be different, then everything can be different. That
makes me think that maybe this postmodernist ideology can also be different.
I
loved that play, event, show ―or whatever it was― because, even when it was
intended for children, it could surprise me, it could teach me, it could make
me keep looking for similar plays, it could make me like theatre, it could make
me open my eyes.
Now,
and finally, I would say I am still not an expert on the topic (and I do not
pretend to be), but at least I am finally interested on the world out there
with its non-postmodernist art.
