Poetry at CAM: works from the exhibition ‘Paula Rego and Adriana Varejão. Between Your Teeth’
Poem ‘FOTOTIPOS’ [PHOTOTYPES] inspired by the work ‘Polvo Color Wheels’ (2015), by Adriana Varejão
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In relation to the short-listed poem, I confess that, beforehand, I was a bit nervous and worried, not knowing what the work was about, but when I received a brief explanation from Daniela, it sparked a poetic theme about which there is a lot to say, and which to my surprise had already been approached in the poem read previously. That being the case, I combined texts about immigration and racism that I had already been working on separately, with some spontaneous ideas that came up on the spur of the moment. It was an inspirational and unique moment, and I really enjoyed such a challenging experience.
Read poem
Here I am alone and hopeful
in this world of dreams not granted
You can classify me as you like
You can call me what you like
I am here and we will walk together
I am not beige
Nor runaway donkey grey
Not foundation shade no. 02
Nor the neutral tone of the 8 o’clock soap opera
I am the tone that has no name
I am the colour that does not hide
My skin has sun
Has clay
Has embers
It has the sweat of those who came before
and the silence that flies away
I am descended from people painted with history, who didn’t appear in books, but whose memory lingers on the skin
dark, black, tawny skin
painted with pain, washed with poetry
Every shade is a cry that won’t fit on the chart, my colour isn’t a choice of watercolour
I’ve tried to lighten myself with the gaze of others but I realised:
My shine does not depend on approval
I am a constellation in flesh
I am art that does not fit in the palm of a hand
They say colour doesn’t matter
But what happens when it matters too much?
When it decides whether you enter or get left outside?
When it dictates who dies first
Who bears the brunt
Who is seen as a threat even before opening their mouth
Skin tones are codes
They are maps of struggle
Not just aesthetics but structure
My colour is experience, it is presence that never fades, it is poison that the world denies but which truth exposes.
So respect:
Respect the Black who is king even without a crown
Respect the cinnamon tone that carries a good soul
Respect the mixed-race body
That doesn’t fit in the box
Here no one is a draft
Here all colours walk
And I
I am all the tones they told to hide
I am a mix of colours to hurt, in the system in the mirror, in the lie they told you
When they ask what colour are you?
I reply:
I am the one that never faded
I am the one who resisted
I am the one that came and never departed.
Gunji
Poem ‘Perde-se a democracia’ [We are losing democracy] inspired by the work ‘Triptych’ (1998), by Paula Rego
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Knowing the concept of the exhibition and the artists in question, I thought beforehand about the themes that might come up when the works were allocated in a draw. There are various topics that intersect with those I approach in my poems and I thought it would be simpler for that reason. It wasn’t. It was disquieting. I ended up writing a poem that was very different to what I imagined at the time of the draw. The poem guided me. The recent elections reinforced that path, the belief that we must not relinquish our rights, we must not abort them. That’s that direction I took. Given the short period of time to plan the thread of the poem, I surprised myself. The quality of the starting point was undeniably a good stimulus.
Read poem
Everyone here today
Knows my feelings about the right to abortion
What they don’t know is that
It has happened to me
The cold sweats
The cramps
The kicks
Given by a dead being
Who insists on not leaving
The kicks to a belly
That insists on birthing
All the women who came before me
Aborted
Or miscarried
There is an ancestral line
Of natural abortion
I thought I would be different
But I carry it in my genes
My body insists on feeling
That genetic guilt
I hear in a dream
It's up to me to break the pattern
There’s an infinitesimal difference
Between saying sorry
And asking for forgiveness
I feel like I failed all those who came before me
God knows about those yet to come
I had suspected apnoea
When I slept
My nights often
Agitated, tempestuous
Pulling at the brake
An untimely halt
Nothing happened
Submerged in gelatinous waters
I would awake sweaty
Tired
I knew deep down that
I hadn’t been anywhere
Other than the depths
I had never left.
One day I awoke to confront
Posters all around
Confronted with my face
They had given me up for lost
I heard ‘Go and find yourself’
Still curled up in my sheets
Well might you protest
As you’re lying there
How will you face yourself
In the endless blind alley
I write to you, dear grandmother
To tell you I didn’t want to
I fought with all I had
I know that when you heard
That I would be called Maria
You heard resilience
Purity
In rebellion
Mum, I got pregnant
I didn't want to abort
It was the son of all men
Whom I allowed to enter me
Today I cry in bed
After such a blow
I have given all I have
My body tells me
About that little thing
I feel trickling
Down my legs
Come to the rescue
And my losses
I swore that one day
I would be a mother
I got pregnant
With stillbirths
On the ultrasound
I saw no one
I swear devotedly
Grandmother I tried
I felt the beating heart
Of democracy
But last May
In the midst of our elections
I miscarried
Everything I wanted
Our rights
For our Children
Life
The body
The soul
I would give
Yesterday I miscarried
Today I am fertile
For the new day
Maria Caetano Villalobos
Poem ‘ESTOUROU O MUNDO’ [THE WORLD HAS BURST] inspired by the work ‘Map of Lopo Homem’ (1992), by Adriana Varejão
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The interpretation of an artwork is always very personal. But Adriana Varejão, with this work and others I have seen, inspired me to carry out a deeper analysis, that this limited time-frame did not allow. Despite everything, it was a challenge and a pressure, which I thoroughly enjoyed and which stemmed from that ‘flash.’
Read poem
The world has burst!
There, right in the middle...
Who gets to keep it,
If they want it whole?!
And there are the wounds,
Open, still,
Waiting, too,
For someone to heal them...
But why in the sea?
What happened there?
Are they waiting for someone
Who can cure them...?
If those in power
Don’t even know...? And don’t want
To see what is happening...
We’re in trouble!
But anything is possible!
Our combined strength
Will be a talking point
And I hope it will
Bring us together
For everything to heal.
Zé
SLAM at CAM
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