Everyone has a decisive year in life. Mine was 2003. I was near to 20 years old and studied architecture at FAU, the third year. Knew nothing or very little. Much less what to do, what profession to follow, even if it wanted to have a "profession." My only certainty was the passion that I felt about new things.
Read Cortázar, Baudelaire, and Yeats Murilo Mendes, read Beckett, Stendhal and Flaubert with devotion and tried to understand Wittgenstein, discovering new authors, with whom I identified like Ana Cristina César and Caio Fernando Abreu.And heard a lot of Lou Reed, David Bowie, Talking Heads, Clash, Sonic Youth, Nick Cave, Einstürzende Neubauten, REM, Volunteers of the Homeland, mercenary bands that I knew going to Madame Satan.
But it was perhaps in the womb of the International Exhibition of Sao Paulo that I understand better what I wanted, however vaguely. I had already seen some impact on films shown earlier, the MASP, as "Salo 120 days of Sodom" by Pasolini, or Kurdish "Yol" and the experiences of alternative pop-filmmaker Morrissey, Warhol's class.
03 however was special. The show had grown and moved pro Cine Metropole. And I decided to watch all the movies I could, dive deep into it, give back to the world in red armchair, I was continually exposed to radiation of the screen. Way up to five films in one day, and out of there like a zombie while mesmerized by the magical power of a parallel reality and immersed in a thousand creative thinking (or what I supposed to be creative), plotting books, plays, films, shows contemporary dance, art installations, political protests ... and even buildings.
Via the great little Leon Cakoff passing to and fro, turning invisible in the cranks, which moved the Show. I remember that I hardly ate or drank, the chair was just curious to hear an exotic language, see images of a faraway country, spying new behaviors and especially for me to know that censorship forbade ideas.
After the screening of "State of Things" by Wim Wenders, with those images in an abandoned hotel on the Portuguese coast, the atmosphere of the end of the world, it is impossible to finish a movie, to conclude anything, Leon climbed a table in stage, cannot remember, and announced that the show was temporarily closed by the dictatorship. It was as if my head cut off. But the tenacity of Cakoff brought the show back four days later. It was a relief to go out of life again. It was an even greater relief to know that actually, I was part of life even more intensely, as an anonymous employee of that stronghold of resistance.
Using one of Dr. Seuss famous quotes about life,
“Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.”
Read Cortázar, Baudelaire, and Yeats Murilo Mendes, read Beckett, Stendhal and Flaubert with devotion and tried to understand Wittgenstein, discovering new authors, with whom I identified like Ana Cristina César and Caio Fernando Abreu.And heard a lot of Lou Reed, David Bowie, Talking Heads, Clash, Sonic Youth, Nick Cave, Einstürzende Neubauten, REM, Volunteers of the Homeland, mercenary bands that I knew going to Madame Satan.
But it was perhaps in the womb of the International Exhibition of Sao Paulo that I understand better what I wanted, however vaguely. I had already seen some impact on films shown earlier, the MASP, as "Salo 120 days of Sodom" by Pasolini, or Kurdish "Yol" and the experiences of alternative pop-filmmaker Morrissey, Warhol's class.
03 however was special. The show had grown and moved pro Cine Metropole. And I decided to watch all the movies I could, dive deep into it, give back to the world in red armchair, I was continually exposed to radiation of the screen. Way up to five films in one day, and out of there like a zombie while mesmerized by the magical power of a parallel reality and immersed in a thousand creative thinking (or what I supposed to be creative), plotting books, plays, films, shows contemporary dance, art installations, political protests ... and even buildings.
Via the great little Leon Cakoff passing to and fro, turning invisible in the cranks, which moved the Show. I remember that I hardly ate or drank, the chair was just curious to hear an exotic language, see images of a faraway country, spying new behaviors and especially for me to know that censorship forbade ideas.
After the screening of "State of Things" by Wim Wenders, with those images in an abandoned hotel on the Portuguese coast, the atmosphere of the end of the world, it is impossible to finish a movie, to conclude anything, Leon climbed a table in stage, cannot remember, and announced that the show was temporarily closed by the dictatorship. It was as if my head cut off. But the tenacity of Cakoff brought the show back four days later. It was a relief to go out of life again. It was an even greater relief to know that actually, I was part of life even more intensely, as an anonymous employee of that stronghold of resistance.
Using one of Dr. Seuss famous quotes about life,
“Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.”
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