Tiziano Cruz in ‘Soliloquio’, Photo by Jae Yang
An ULMUS & ROSA Studio Production
Tiziano Cruz and his troupe of community performers open with a gathering in a nearby parkette. There is a smudging ceremony, live Andean music and brightly coloured cultural artifacts. Cruz himself wears a Quipu, an ancient Incan registration system made up of knotted cords and explained in a hand-out program. Having established an inclusive, celebratory atmosphere, Cruz and fellow performers lead us toward to the theatre for his solo show, Soliloquio (I woke up and hit my head against the wall) an expressive, multidisciplinary form of protest presented by Theatre Passe Muraille as part of the #BeyondTO series.
Upon reaching the space, Cruz makes a point of gently hugging each member of the audience as they enter the space. It’s a brief yet generous and incredibly potent gesture and I greatly appreciated the purposeful intimacy it fosters. Before he speaks to us directly, we watch footage taken from previous processions that have happened internationally as he’s shared the piece with audiences around the world. Captured in Matías Gutiérrez’s short film, seeing this footage places our experience of the work in a broader context.
Based on a series of letters he wrote to his mother, Cruz conveys a history of institutional oppression against darker skinned, Indigenous people in Argentina. His sister, having not received medical care due to societal indifference to her life, died. His artistic ventures grew out of a need to establish himself as valuable to the establishment. Having his pain become an exploitable asset to colonial systems has caused great angst and this is his response to that internal conflict.
A word that predominates is hegemony. Defiance of this cultural domination is a core aspect of his performance. He offers his body as both an immediate subject and a poetic, political symbol. Underneath the cords of the Quipu, he wears only a pair of briefs. Even these he eventually removes, making himself entirely bare and vulnerable to our scrutiny. With a sheepskin upon his head, fastened to his body with cords, he contorts himself in animalistic gestures; this is an arresting image, forming a connection between himself and the sheep marked with dye to prevent their being lost.
Cruz performs in Spanish with English captions provided. His rhythm becomes so intense and fervent, with violent and lyrical language, that it is sometimes tricky to follow in its translated form. I imagine the full impact of his words are lost here—in the frantic attempt to follow the text, extrapolate its dense and loaded messaging and also take in his impassioned face.
Soliloquio
ran May 17 & 18, 2024
Theatre Passe Muraille, Mainspace (16 Ryerson Avenue)
running time: 2 hours
Tiziano Cruz in ‘Soliloquio’, Photos by Jae Yang