On Theater and Life

"Pedro e Inês" - Camaleões (2015) Ph: João Azevedo

Since I was a little girl, I always had a thing to understand how things worked. Not mechanical things or gadgets, I was never the engineer kind of girl. No, I was curious about two things: Biology and Art. So, here I am, 20 or so years after, trying to make both things at my own way.



I don't quite remember the first time I was ever on stage. Not that it matters, really. True magic happens backstage, where we keep things hidden from the viewer, but closer to our hearts. Pain comes from the fights, and the yelling, and the flaws, and the losses, and sometimes from the unavoidable physical injuries. Love comes from the long hours, and the hugs and kisses, and the people fooling aroud so much than rehearsals become impossible. Nerves come from the responsability, and the non memorized text, and having to change people in last minute, and the sets that are not ready, and the clothes that are not done, and the amount of tickets that were not sold yet and so "are, like, 3 people coming? No, please, no...".
It's so curious, for a moment, to think that my two high adrenaline rush moments use to be writing the play (it all seems so perfect, and everything fits, and the story is awesome, and you can already see it on stage, the actors performing in front of your computer screen, because you are also a director and you write that specific line for that specific person to deliver on that perfect moment) and the end, when everybody is on stage and the only thing you can do is be teared apart by how proud you are of everyone and all the flaws of the thing. And that second moment is, strange as it may sound, the most peaceful part of the entire process. There was a thing I heard once (I honestly have no idea when and where) when someone said the only good part of being an actor is the moment you step on stage. And though I can't agree with it 100%, I get why this was said. It is the only certain moment. The only part when you know you were able to do something, to finish something, the only moment you have to collect some profit (and here I mean more heart profit than wallet profit) in the form of applause, and cheers, and cries, and even maybe, if you are lucky, some flowers. And the end rush... The end rush is the really powerful thing here. So powerful, that it makes paperwork, and late hours, and shouting, and incompetent people and budget cuts all worth it for a while. 10 minutes of end rush are, in fact, so compelling, that it can keep you going for a few months... just enough time for you to have a new play, and a new shot of it.

So, if you sometimes ask yourself what keeps theater people going, even with no money involved, my answer to you is simple: It's the end rush. And the ultimate and passionate love not only for the art... but mostly for the people.

"Pedro e Inês" - Camaleões (2015) Ph: João Azevedo