União do Parque Curicica

Synopsis – SUMMARY

“It is not gold nor ever was,
The crown that the King wore,
It's made of cheap tin, And look there. Borocochô! .”

(Marchinha – The King’s Crown – Haroldo Lobo, David Nasser, Odeon)

1 – The Kingdom is naked!

Above, the vision of power perpetuated in the pennants: the Crown, symbol of the greatest respect. Inside, a Castle infested with rodents and poisonous usurpers. Ceilings drawn by cobwebs, candlesticks support worn candles. The vision of abandonment and dirt hidden under the carpet. Real disregard of an unreal Monarchy in crisis. In the corridors, the mockery of the Evil Queen and her bankrupt Viceroys echoes. Full of the pride lived in past glories, for a Kingdom for which they do nothing.

2 – The true Commoners.

In the basements, art for a great carnival. Scrap metal bends in an allegorical sense. Disused wood shapes the scenery. Forgotten sculptures gain new life, decorating halls. From small pieces of rags, I make clothes. Beautiful costumes pinned in studios full of effort and sweat, where artists, living in the wings, paint and embroider. Worn stones gain the necessary shine in the finishing touches of accessories. Forgotten velvet capes become carpets for the parade of the “fake-cool” Monarchs.

We are prisoners of anxiety and time. I have begged from door to door, from Kingdom to Kingdom, for scissors and glue. With my tithes, I have sometimes paid for so many reliquaries. In the leaks, I have provided drinking water for many artisans. I have looked after the hunger of many, during countless nights of long anguish. I have dusted the chandeliers. I have kept the dirt in the oddities. I have prepared the halls to receive the illustrious masquerade ball.

3 – Appearances can be deceiving.

After eight defeats in arduous battles, the Kingdom finally celebrates its victory “in war”. Fireworks streak across the sky. Candelabras are lit, knights wield trumpets. The castle is filled with life. (Audacious) musicians play the first chords; dancers (or samba dancers) rehearse minuet steps; the banquet is served. “He who pays, sits at the table!” – Orders the Queen. In the halls, the enjoyment of false nobility. Backstage, the plebeians rush about. Exhausted, the true kings and queens of the greatest show. Dance delivered. Belly full, “foot in the world”.

“Cut off their heads!” – Orders the Queen.

4 – And the dance continues.

My joy does not emanate with the same grace as always. My makeup is running down, revealing my tiredness. My shoes are dirty and covered in grease. My lamé does not shine as it used to. My pointy ties do not have the same frame. My bells are rusting. My worn gloves cover my work-hardened hands. My smile is hidden. My mask is lost. My tithes have not been paid.
Deposed: The Court Jester.

For all artists, living