A sensorial experience
November 2007, by Ezequiel Priluk
All the versions of this article: [es] [pt]
- Shall we go to the theater?
- Yes, sure, what are we going to see?
- Nothing.
Jorge Luis Borges, 1985. Poetic Anthology.
The sight is man’s most developed sense. We get to know everything or almost everything through our eyes.
In other eras, senses were complementary to each other. Maybe at some time the sense of smell was essential to go hunting, for instance; probably, hearing was fundamental to be alert upon potential hazards.
Not so long ago, hearing was also useful to communicate with people who weren’t present and to keep up-to-date with the latest news. But we gradually replaced it. Today, chat programs substitute the phone and less people listen to the radio. Even cable TV broadcasts football matches where the match in itself can’t be seen (it’s pay per view), but they transmit the comments with images of the stadium. What’s the power of an image that projects nothing?
When we start analyzing senses, we notice most perceptions are made by sight. Shall we go to the theater?
We enter the theater. They make us wait in a big hall, which looks like a sort of gym. There’s not many of us. We look at each other. A guy dressed as a yogi gives each of us one of those eye covers the Pink Panther wears to sleep.
Shortly after, another man comes and explains what to do. You’re going to go up the stairs with your eyes open; when you get to the last step you’re going to cover your eyes and wait for someone who’s going to lead you, he says. We start going up the stairs. The line is moving slowly.
One by one we’re led into the room with our eyes covered, of course. They start making us walk around a place. There’s background music, very low, very Indian... From the very first moment, the contact with the blind world is strange: you don’t know if you are in a big room (and that’s why you’ve been walking for so long) or if you are in a tiny room and you’re just walking in circles.
They finally lead me to a chair. Time passes. You don’t know if it’s been seconds, minutes or hours. They’re surely waiting for all people to sit down in order to begin. But no, it’s not possible, because we were with very few people outside, in the gym-like room, waiting for the play to begin. Nothing happens, only the Indian music is on.
The show begins shortly after. Sensations, smells, situations and noises are mixed. Touch is also in the game: some objects start to circulate. We, the spectators, are exposed to lights (though our eyes are covered, we can tell the difference between light and darkness). Each of us receives different stimuli.
The play isn’t about a novel or a tale, but it’s formed by small, unplotted acts. Thus, all of a sudden we may find ourselves in a jungle, in the middle of a storm, in an elephant stampede or we can feel how a child grows from being a baby to being an adult...
Suddenly, the wind is blowing against our faces; then nothing happens and we remain silent; then someone grabs us by the hand and starts playing with our fingers and their own, and we can hear balls rolling or, without knowing how, we enter a little new age disco… If I keep talking, I’ll spoil the show for you.
Until it ends. An hour and a half after the beginning, musical instruments go off and a very paused voice can be heard. “Slowly, taking as much time as you need, you may start uncovering your eyes”.
I don’t want to. I take long to uncover my eyes. Until I finally do it. The light, after an hour and a half in the dark, almost burns my retina. I look for the person that had come with me; I want to know her perception on the subject. I can see many people are still with their eyes covered.
Maisa Pereyra is one of the members of the group Avitantes, which set up the play. “This play occurs inside you. All that happens is an inner experience and the fact that we cover your eyes makes your experience depend on your level of self-surrender. It can be as deep as you let it to. We lead you in with your eyes covered and that’s when things start to happen. There’s a lot of music because we’re musicians and we try to work with all senses, textures and temperatures… You gradually create the story inside you based on the sensations you receive from outside.
- How many of you work in the play?
- We’re six. There are five musicians and one assistant.
- How do you rehearse the play?
- First we would gather, create the music and one of us would sit with their eyes closed, and the rest would try what we had planned to do. And the interesting thing was that everything changed depending on the person that would sit. We would try different things.
- Are there different plays according to the audience?
-Absolutely. Some audiences are more restrained, and others are more relaxed. If someone really surrenders, we can make a better approach to that person. The idea is to make it as personalized as possible.
- Have you ever experienced any weird situations?
- A man fainted once. I was worried at that moment, but then he came round and got back into the play.
We are used to looking and perceiving everything through our eyes. Exercising the other senses... That’s what this is about.
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"Ojos cerrados" (Eyes Closed) is performed at the Centro Cultural Holístico Sendas del Sol
Address: Lambaré 990
Capital Federal - Buenos Aires - Argentina
Phone: 4861-3055 / 4865-0023
Tickets: $20,00 / $15,00 - Friday - 23:00 hs (Until the end of 2007). Previous bookings are recommended.
Grupo Avitantes
Swami Chrisis (Dervake, djembé, mberimbao, Udu, accesories).
Maisa Pereira (Classic guitar and voice).
Jerónimo Grandi (classic guitar, piano, Western concert flute, charango, didgeridoo, electric guitar, electric bass guitar, voice, singing).
Enrique Montero (Bagpipes, Piano, Sitar, Sarangi – Hindu violin)
Yovana Wen Arauco (Aromatherapy, massage, accessories)
::: Buenos Aires ::: Salguero 2835 7B (C1425DEM) ::: (54 11) 4801-8616 ::: Argentina :::
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