Tout Bouge

Time never stands still, this much we know. Whatever is our current reality – pain, pleasure, joy, suffering, indifference, frustration – we know that it will pass. ‘Tout bouge’ as Jacques Lecoq would have it. Everything changes, flux is the status quo.

Which is all a rather flowery overture to me saying that today is my last day in Barão Geraldo, and so this the last blog ‘diary’ entry – although I will continue to use this space to post up documentation and reflection on the wonderful month of February in the company of LUME Teatro.

As I sit here in the morning sunshine, in the garden of my delightful and generous host Carlos Simioni, I am thinking now of all the small changes that have occurred in the past month, reminders that the flow of life moves relentlessly forward.

It was the pre-carnival height of summer when I arrived, and now there is a sense of autumn in the air. Not autumn in anything like the English sense – no cold nights and misty mornings – but most definitely a season of mellow fruitfulness. Recent storms have brought down great flurries of leaves, brushed into neat piles by the street cleaners. Brazil summertime ended last week with the clocks turning back one hour, meaning that it is now dark before 7pm. No more twilight garden parties, candlelight is needed now.

There is also a post-carnival mood of determined purpose as people return to work; school and university students return to their studies; and new theatre projects are launched or developed – at LUME Teatro, the February workshop season has finished and the whole company are, this very morning, meeting to discuss the plans for the new show Os Bem Intencionades, which is now going into a two-month intensive rehearsal and production period, with a premiere planned for June.

Meanwhile life in Barão Geraldo goes on, subtly shifting and changing with each passing day. It seems like a long time since I took that first walk from Simi’s house to the Sede do Lume. On my last morning walk, I mark the differences. The lovely blue-and-green bird grafitti on the wall of the house at the bottom of Rua Abel Jose Bonhomi has been whitewashed over – probably because the house is for rent. I mourn the loss of the painted birds, who now live only in my memory and as an image on my mobile phone, although on the wall you can almost see their outline through the whitewash – ghost birds. And the geese – where are the geese in the little park by the lake on the farm road? They seem to have disappeared; maybe they’ve moved home. In their place yesterday was a flock of pigeons, so maybe the geese have morphed into this new form. And here are no more of the luscious fire-flecked orange flowers falling from the trees – I never did learn their name. And I haven’t seen a fallen avocado for at least a week.

I see many of the same people that I have seen most days on my morning walk over the past month – but over that time my relationship to them has changed, sometimes overtly, sometimes in more subtle ways. The man walking the twin Labrador dogs (one black, one golden) now nods to me, although he still doesn’t speak. The dapper man with the pork-pie hat and the stiff little moustache says Bom Dia in a surprisingly deep and booming voice. The jogger smiles as she rushes by. The woman with the Sysyphean task of sweeping the leaves from outside her gate greets me loudly like a lifelong friend. Her dogs are ever-more determined to drown out her voice. Many of the other dogs have given up on me now – I am no longer fresh meat and they just eye me slightly disdainfully rather than bark madly, although this is not true of them all. There are a couple of houses with particularly insane small dogs – daschunds, terriers – that still have something to prove. “I may be small,” they seem to say, “But I will damn well do my duty as guard dog here.”

The house by the bus stop that seems to be some sort of informal garage – either that or the owner is a car obsessive who has decided to dedicate his days to tinkering with engines – still plays the local commercial radio station at full volume. Perhaps he feels he has a care-of-duty to entertain the passengers waiting for the ‘onibus’. At the place I have dubbed ‘The House of Men’– a corner building inhabited by a group of at least twenty men who are obviously on some sort of manual labour contract – there are gruff nods and even the odd half-smile as I pass. I am no longer quite the novelty I was in late January when I arrived, just part of the Barão Geraldo landscape.

Oh and the man in the Real Gas truck seems to have taken me to heart as an ally – I quite often pass him (or more accurately, he passes me in his slow-moving truck) at least twice on any one journey to LUME, as he circles the streets with his distinctive Fur Elise calling-card. He not only says hello, but leans from the window of the truck grinning and waving at me. I feel that all of these people are part of my wider circle of Barão Geraldo friends, and I shall miss them all.

Closer into the centre of that circle are the many artists, theatre-makers and other people that I have met at the LUME workshops, or at carnival events, or at theatre or music shows, or in bars or restaurants – sharing experiences together (be that theatre training, dancing, eating or drinking!), learning something of their lives and work (often through action rather than word), and feeling a lovely sense of connection.

And then, right at the heart of the circle are my beautiful friends from LUME Teatro – actors Naomi, Ricardo, Renato, Raquel, Jesser, Ana Cristina, and Simi; producers Dani and Cynthia and production assistant Margarida; PR and press officer Carlota; technician Maria Emilia; documenter and designers Poeta and Luiz; 'Barba' and all the administrative staff.

To LUME I offer a very big thank-you for your hospitality, love and support – and for being such an extraordinary inspiration as an ensemble theatre company operating as one great big wonderful extended family. I have very much enjoyed being part of that family for one short month.

It is sad to leave my Barão Geraldo and LUME extended family, but I leave with a wonderful gift – my head, heart and soul full of ideas and inspirations, and many many happy memories of my time with you all.