Flamenco Festival, Sadler’s Wells, London
June 6, 2024
The Flamenco Festival at Sadler’s Wells, curated by Miguel Marin, now stands over twenty years old. Alter Ego, with its ultimately joyous effect, was a fitting way to commemorate two decades of the vivacious art form on its London stage.
Two dancers, a bailaor (Alfonso Losa) and a bailaora (Patricia Guerrero), circle a group of chairs, two vocalists and a guitarist like bulls in a ring. Duende, the state of presence, grace and power that epitomises flamenco expression, is brewing, if not already established.
Alter Ego emerged from studio improvisations; a spontaneity evident later. The title refers to the second self. Losa and Guerrero are appropriately distinct and yet connected insofar that we can identify two sides of one self. Their sensing of one another spatially and rhythmically renders their synchrony intuitive, while never sacrificing fierce individuality.
Photo Beatrix Molnar
Losa, in his first solo, moves with structure, immensely proud carriage and a tension in his chest that dispells anticipatory silence amongst the audience. He chisels the air with arms and hands in precise lines, and rapidly, unexpectedly, pirouettes with undoubtable balance and control. Losa’s signature finale is an ascent into zapateado; a stamping so fast his feet blur as voice and guitar build to thrilling crescendo.
Guerrero adopts a more ambiguous style that flirts with the boundaries of traditional flamenco. With complete availability of her spine, she spirals into flowery turns, throwing her head back, or kicks her heels and knees as if to raise earth from the ground. A force tugs her, compelling her to never stay put for more than a few seconds, except to indulge in her divine lilac skirt.
The music of Alter Ego is in no way second place to the movement. Sandra Carrasco’s voice undulates, swelling to magnificent heights, and then plummets into a mutter like an incantation. Manuel (‘Niño de Gines’) possesses a questioning, at times wailing falsetto. Francisco Vinuesa’s guitar is often melancholic, but irresistibly exuberant when the dancers gather as if around campfire; they encourage each-other and loosen movement into something more impromptu.
Throughout, Alter Ego has a sense of each performer wilfully and heartedly drawing more from each-other; asking, but not demanding. Whether dancer succumbs to movement guided by voice, or voice is pushed higher, louder by fiery physicality, a curious, generosity of spirit prevails, and engages entirely.
Moments of serenity and tenderness are welcomed between blazing, staccato sequences. Lights fall around Losa and Guerrero, who stand statue still as silhouettes to the exquisitely woeful harmonies of the cantors (singers). The dancers then slowly swap clothing, her skirt for his jacket, and reshuffle their bodies into elegantly sculptured positions that are captured in freeze frame when the lights return, before dipping out again. A similar softness exudes from Guererro’s sumptuous use of a fan, and a subtly constructed duet that sees both dancers react as though lightly triggered by the delicate movements of one another.
Photo Beatrix Molnar
Alter Ego may begin as a performance, its initial solos tightly staged, but as it progresses, we witness a game, a provocative meeting of sorts, as Losa and Guerrero challenge each-other. And rise to the challenge they do. The final fiesta of movement and clapping sings with spontaneity, even if it may well have been choreographed.
Every flowering palm and fickle swivel of direction confirm that Losa and Guerrero are sophisticated masters of their art, each in their own right. However, Guerrero particularly has refined a balance between technique and virtuosity, a skill of profound artistry and finesse. Beside her, Losa’s feet are riddled with fever as he stamps faster than the eye can comprehend, to which the audience repeatedly roared.
Emerging from the lower levels of Spanish society, flamenco has always reflected a struggle, and a great pride. Losa possesses such unrelenting endurance, and both perform in a state that is openly passionate and yet withheld; they are autonomous in what they give to us, and brief moments of reserve remind us so.
As the dancers discover self-potential in their exploration of each other, the audience too are enlightened to the gumption and flare of flamenco. Alter Ego is a flame that burns long after the curtain is drawn.