Art Happens

Who takes part in the unfolding of history? Who is the subject of history? And of one’s own life?

In Adorno, the audience is carried by a group of six dancers that advances and retreats in waves, like the very movements of history. How can we conceive of a human collective that, to define itself as such, would presuppose some degree of homogeneity, when among 8 billion individuals no two are alike? The smallest difference seems to impose itself like a prism that multiplies infinitely in order to produce singularity.

The scenes unfold in a dreamlike atmosphere, in a constant zoom in/zoom out, confronting what we perceive as most singular — our memory, our body, our affections (our internal tidal waves) — with an ideal of a possible society, or even with the blindness of the multitude.

In Portuguese, the word “adorno“ (in English “adornment” or “adornation”) means something that can be used to make something more attractive, such as a decoration, ornament, or accessory. If we separate the syllables, we can read “há dor no”, which means “there is pain in the…”