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GUSTAVO SANTOS'S COMMENTARY

Friday, July 11, 2008

While reading your idea, I reflected a little and this popped up to my head. I hope it is useful for you in any way... if anything else comes to mind, I’ll post it here. Well, here it goes (sorry for my Portuguese but this was written online):
It is also the universe of the high and low, advances and setbacks, deception and optimism side by side... resistance and persistence in a search for a better future, but above all the state of uncertainty that leads to the suspension of life. There is nothing more frustrating than to have a creative and spontaneous mind, anxious for express for itself and for the world, but is not able to communicate with the body, or the body can’t correspond to the expectations of the mind.
The lack of communication between the subject and itself, his confusion and the confusion of others that recognize that his is a solitary conflict, because it is mainly an inner conflict. A even more hard loneliness, since even the body puts itself aside from its duties.
Only the mind and its inner voice is left alone, the thought, the doubt… the fear… constant and recurrent. The questioning of a new reality (and of the reality itself… the feeling that soon it will awake from everything and return to the safe and normal reality that it was known before – because everything that passed is so sudden, absurd, incomprehensible to be really true, no?), that puts at stake the Time which passed by and that will still come. An recurrent exhaustion of all this hanged situation and the feeling of impotency that questions the personal values and capacities. The torment of not being able of escaping from a prison so soon as desired, as someone underwater who tries to swim to the surface to freely breathe, but always finds seaweeds that get stuck to the feet, delaying the reach for the surface. A claustrophobic suspension of the mind, of the inner voice that is anxious to materialize with its reality as well as with the others.

Drawing made by Gustavo Santos

TO REAL TO BELIEVE

Day 1

10-07-08

I don’t know if you do know, or not, but this blog has a purpose for its existence – do you remember of me, talking about the Spectator’s Oportunity (oriented by Rogério Nuno Costa, following the rules of Dogma’05)? – it’s a project. I don’t like to repeat things over and over since they are already written, click in the names to get to know better this project.
I arrived at Lisbon in July 9 and was presented to two coleagues that were already here – Katinka and Katia, from Berlin. The other participants, Hugo and Alexandre (which I also personally don’t know) arrive this week. Only in Sunday we will be all together.
We are constantly being filmed, because what we do is already the result of the project (see Dogma’05). You can access to the house throught the website: http://www.rogerionunocosta.com/house.html (note: Macintosh aren’t able to see the footage, even with Firefox).
Yesterday morning, Rogério was talking to be about what Dogma’05 was and what it was all about. I had already read about those rules, but this time I had the opportunity to clarify some points and doubts. The day was dedicated to brainstormings and project presentations. I didn’t know what to do. I felt lost and confused, swimming in a sea of experiences and feelings, not being able of even thinking. I took notes just to not forget things and not to reflect on them. So much was discussed that I had the impression of not retaining anything.
And then and idea appears, this morning while waking up, and I took note of this in the cell-phone:

“ The universe of waiting, of time and pacience – suspension of life, pause – the dimension of time. The feeling of impotency, frustration and conformity.”

Can you understand it? Now I really need your help organizing my head.
Sugestions are accepted, ideas, whatever. Now it is you entering on stage. I need you!

MY VOICE BEFORE THE CEREBRAL HEMORRHAGE II

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

I have to explain something; this video is not a creation of César Monteiro (although it resembles it). I found this video while looking through some of my photos, and it is a footage that I recorded so I could listen to my voice in the preparation for the Voice evaluation from my first year (2005).
I confess that I am a little ashamed. But now my voice is something more like Tom Waits, so what do I have to loose? But don’t be to cruel… I never sang for real in front of anyone beside my Voice teacher, and even so it was very difficult.

Oh, and besides all that, I had to sing in French, something I didn’t do since the 9th grade, a lousy music full of sentimentalisms, taken from the musical (and how I like musicals…) Notre Dame. And that’s it… I’m traumatized.

HOME MADE OCCUPATIONAL THERAPY

Friday, June 27, 2008

No, this is not an artistic photo from some artistic movement. This is my magic box; my SOS O.T box – for example, my occupational therapist went on vacation and I have to continue doing exercises or else I’ll feel atrophied. Only for the hand, besides the massage ball (a ball with 8cm diameter with spikes all around, that stimulates the sensibility) I spend about 30 minutes with this box.
This box has pegs and dried peak grain. I start with the peak grain, trying to catch them finger by finger and then put it in the box. Then I go to the pegs - I try to catch them between my fingers to the box. If I’m not to tired I put the pegs in the box (like if I was putting clothes to dry) and take them away.
Before I train the hand, I do some exercises with the arm, to gain muscle and for something else.
Total time of a single session: 45 minutes (this is because I already made “heat” in the physiotherapy). It’s enough for me to not feeling bad, with a pendent strange body that people call “arm”.

And now my articulations hurt. My therapist Alice (O.T) says that it’s good, it’s a sign that I’m recovering sensibility. But it could hurt less…

EXPECTATION MAKES ME ILL

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Expectation makes me ill.
Life is fucking funny. I was anxious to begin my vacations, and always said “when the job is finish, it will be beach everyday!”. Yeah Right. Since the beginning of this week I didn’t go to the beach once. “why?” you might wonder. Well, I’m going to explain.
When I thought about going to the beach, never thought about HOW. It happens that I’m tired of rides, feeling dependent, needing people to do whatever it is. I can drive, the problem is my arm – I need to look many times to the right hand (gear handle) to assure that I have correctly shifted the gear or not, because I don’t have sufficient sensibility to realize that without looking.
If I had an automatic car, the problem was solved, but riding my “little bean” (a Renault Clio from ’95, working on gas) is old school, and even loving to ride difficult cars, lets face it – I don’t know if someday I’ll be able to ride it again. I believe I will, since two months ago not even my foot I could feel in the car (didn’t know where it was, as if I had a blind foot, and missed the pedals or got stuck beneath them) and now they behave almost as normal feet.
But the arm is weak and the deep sensibility it’s not on its best condition. The hand is the most complicated parts to recover, always been told about it.
The problem is that I don’t feel comfortable in always asking my parents to take me wherever it is. They already take me to the hospital everyday and I don’t feel like asking them to take me to this or that place. I live in Marinha, and everything that happens, exist outside Marinha Grande. And even existing here, I live in one far corner of the city, away from everything. Marinha always chocked me and now I am realizing why: someone who is not able of getting out of here is literally fucked.
There isn’t even an escape, people who live here, live for their work and when they desire culture they go to Leiria, even if it is dubious culture. Yes I am frustrated, because I am 22 years old, have driving license for 3 years, lived alone on my own for 3 years also, and now I feel like I have 16 again, anxious for the 18th anniversary to get out of here. This lack of satisfaction came in this city and it is thanks to it that I became an (pseudo) artist. Thank you, Marinha Grande!

(I took this photo in 2005, in my first year of faculty. My house is near the train station, only needed to cross a small empty terrain with a small factory. Wherever I looked I could only see factories. And barbwire… it was like I felt before I went to Caldas, and how I feel now. Stuck).
Expectation leaves me sick.