Remember 30 years to live 65 minutes
singapore international festival of arts 2016 – june 30, july 1 & 2
*Best Dance Director, Bienal Arte Joven 2015, Buenos Aires*
*Watch and Talk, Theatre Spektakel 2016, Zurich*
*Festival Santiago a Mil 2016, Chile*
*Singapore International Festival of Arts 2016, Singapur*
“For eight years I’ve been trying to finish this play. This is yet another sketch of that incomplete, endless play. It´s made with parts of an old play, confused memories, past lovers and other things I already killed. I now open the doors to show those misplaced secrets, the archived documents, stolen pictures, and my first 30 years reassembled.”
Surrounded by her amulets worn over time, Marina Otero remembers on stage in order to reveal a fleeing “real life scene” in a quivering mash up performance.
In the pursuit of a performance as an excuse to give meaning to her own existence, Marina embarked herself on creating a never-ending play about her own life. In the end she got here, to “Remember 30 years to live 65 minutes” where real life seems fiction, and fiction a remote possibility of finding oneself.
Cast and Creative:
Idea and performance: Marina Otero
Video and live set designer: Gastón Exequiel Sanchez
Live camera: Lucio Bazzalo
Art in recovered documents: Maria Laura Valentini
Lighting designer: Matías Sendón
Choreographic collaboration: Marina Quesada
Costume collaboration: Franco Kuma La Pietra
Photographer: Lucio Bazzalo, Andrés Manrique, Matías Kedak
Producer: Laura Sol Zaslavsky
Assistant director: Lucrecia Pierpaoli
Staging: Juan Pablo Gómez
Director: Juan Pablo Gómez, Marina Otero
General Director: Marina Otero
By Ng Yi-Sheng — July 1, 2016
So remember when I interviewed Keng Sen a couple of weeks ago and he said the following about Marina’s piece?
OKS: We try to be very celebratory. I think Marina Otero’s very beautiful work [Remember 30 Years to Live 65 Minutes] is an extremely joyous piece: she tells the story of herself through everything that’s been recorded of her life in the last 30 years. The play is just beyond an hour of images of herself. But it’s extremely joyous.
What have you been smoking, dear Festival Director? Remember 30 Years To Live 65 Minutes / Recordar 30 años para vivir 65 minutos certainly isn’t devoid of joy. But far more than that, it is anguished, it is injured and it is brutal.
The work is, really, is confessional theatre. Marina comes onto the litter-strewn stage and announces a bonfire of her images (the whole area has been pre-scented with the perfume of woodsmoke). She pours her guts out, describing her disgust at the low-level epileptic treatments she endured as a child (EEGs and Depakene syrup), her traumatic sexual relationships with various men (all of whom she calls Pablo), and her attempts to work through her issues through performance.
And yes, it’s been done before—it’s more or less a dance-cum-lecture performance version of Tracey Emin’s My Bed. She’s a train wreck, a woman who’s been round the block and survived with some scars: big effing deal. That isn’t unique; that’s practically an archetype.
But there’s so much passion here, so much energy that it’s actually frightening, so much honest pain. She strips herself naked, prowling and howling like an animal, smashing the joints of her knees hard against the floor (which is more or less suicide for a dancer).
Speaking of suicide, yeah, she admits to having considered it. Having had it echo through her life: her great-aunt Margarita, a promising actress, collapsing in front a train at the age of 32 (because of epilepsy or a broken heart?); her lifelong identification with the character of a sex worker named Andrea in Pablo Ramos’s novel La ley de la ferocidad, who is murdered by having the shard of a broken bottle thrust in her throat.
Her exorcisms of Andrea through performances, sometimes in tiny theatres, sometimes in streets and cemeteries. The one-night stands that came out of that.
And the flipside of the despair: the exuberance of self-filmed videos twirling on rooftops in a quinceañera dress, shouting poetic expletives about her own anatomy into a microphone while scrambling around the stage, the audience seating area and backstage (followed by a live cameraman, while she flashes us with her boobs).
Not to mention the interactive re-enactment of her lowest moments, missing her birthday party on the island of Tigre, by inviting three of us viewers to perform as her “Pablos”… and the coming down afterwards: writhing in a trashbag coccoon.
What affected me most, though, was her direct address at the end of the show: with minimal multimedia, saying, ”I’m fully functional.” She’s come out of all the trauma intact, with a hot theatre director boyfriend, a yoga habit, a vegetarian diet, more Facebook friends than ever. She’s now performing in Singapore, a place she didn’t even know existed, she says.
Like Riding on a Cloud, this is a story about an ordinary person using art to recover from trauma—not related to war or politics this time, but a form of suffering all the same.
And as a survivor of depression myself, this moment of confession strikes home. Yes, I’m here. Yes, I’ve survived and triumped. But that’s nothing to be terribly proud of. To come out of this alive is no more heroic than to come out of it dead.
And though I still think this is essentially a work that’s been done before—well, maybe that just shows that it is eternally relevant. That more of us need to do it too, to save ourselves. Like Marina says: We are all equals and we want to take a place in the world. We all want to have a place at the table, even if we don’t like the food.
By Adrián Mena — June 2016
At a small theater in the neighborhood of Villa Crespo, Buenos Aires, the lights go out; on stage you can see the home videos of a noisy and uninhibited little girl; she flirts with the camera while image are becoming slower, until it completely is freezing in time. From the darkness a lost and very sensual voice says: “That’s me, Marina Otero, and today you will witness my own fire”.
“Recordar 30 años para vivir 65 minutos” (Remembering 30 years to live 65 minutes) is the one-woman show who claims not to be an actress, a dancer, and neither a writer; She prefers to define herself as a performative artist. It’s a staging that one night every week, it begins, but never, for 8 years, manages to finish. After several sequential appearances, Marina undresses in front the public her own biography.
It’s through her skin, her voice, her movements, some songs, old photos and videos, recovered and survivors of the “delete” key, which she runs 30 years of existence. 30 years that can infiltrate into the skin of those who attend, making them feel a living part in her history. Marina surrounds us between one and many of her skins. A chameleonic girl who can cross from a mood to another feeling in seconds, which moves back and forth in space and time with just one change in her voice.
65 minutes of performance consists of a sample of vivid snippets that the artist has selected after an investigation into her own biography. In each show Marina makes a “feedback” of memories and experiences, over and over again, in her mind to mutate in her blood and bursts in flames to the audience, in a catastrophic and chaotic explosion. She needs to meditate about herself, question and try to understand her own existence.
However, after the storm, after she opens her body and mind in front of all present, that from now are complicit in her purgatory, Marina reaches to the purification. It’s a catharsis with many questions and few answers, but it’s also an experience where she can find a balance in her present.
Marina Otero participated in the Festival Santiago a Mil 2016 and the Biennale of Young Art Buenos Aires 2015 with “Recordar 30 años para vivir 65 minutos”, she won the award for Best Director in Dance and a scholarship to the Watch and Talk program at the Theatre Spektakel (Zurich). She wrote, directed and starred “Andrea” and worked as choreographer on “Antihéroe off” by Patricio Abadi. Directed “Mis días sin Victoria y Persona”, co-directed “Seiseresomos” by the independent group El Hurka.
She also worked as an interpreter and choreographic assistant on “La idea fija” by Paul Rotemberg, with roles in Brazil, Chile, Uruguay and Colombia. She participated as an actress in “El Grado cero del insomnio” by Emilio Garcia Wehbi and film in the documentary “No soy un extraño” by Hernán Rosselli. She made assistance in the workshop of Marina Abramovic during the Biennial of Performance, UNSAM. She joined the Contemporary Dance Company IUNA, directed by Roxana Grinstein.
She currently coordinates the workshop: “El cuerpo como el trabajo y el destino” (The body as a work and destiny), and she is preparing to travel to Singapore International Festival of Arts soon.
Arts and Pics, por Adrián Mena. Incendiada viva.
Bio Marina Otero
Marina Otero is an actress, dancer and scenic director.
She participated in Santiago a Mil Festival 2016 and in Bienal de Arte Joven Buenos Aires 2015 with Recordar 30 años para vivir 65 minutos, for which she was awarded as Best Dance Director and obtained a grant for the Watch and Talk Programme in Theatre Spektakel (Zurich).
This staging is part of the Recordar para vivir project, on which she has been working since 2013, that also includes Recordar 28 años para vivir 50 minutos and Recordar 29 años para bailar 22 minutos.
She wrote, directed and interpreted Andrea, and worked as a choreographer on Antihéroe off, by Patricio Abadi. Directed Mis días sin Victoria and Persona, co-directed Seiseresomos along with the independent company of La Hurka.
Worked as performer and choreographic assistant on La idea fija by Pablo Rotemberg, performing in Brasil, Chile, Uruguay and Colombia. Worked as an actress on El Grado cero del insomnio by Emilio García Wehbi and on the cinema documentary No soy un extraño by Hernán Rosselli.
Worked as assistant on Marina Abramovic’s workshop during the Bienal de Performance, UNSAM.
Was part of Compañía de Danza Contemporánea del IUNA, directed by Roxana Grinstein.
She currently coordinates the workshop: El cuerpo como obra y destino.