To Forget Kills

To Forget Kills, writes our friend and artist from Sarajevo Andrej Djerkovic in his art apart work, this year exhibited and visited in the streets nearby Verão Azul. A work dedicated to all those who think that smoking kills more than the human mind. 1425 days of siege besiege liege. Like him, we believe conceive that we should never forget Tibet.

To forget will kill again and again and again, now and then. To hide will as well. To lie will as well, I tell to sell. What was too hard to be remembered before discard never more can happen and be repeated again and again old men. We must not forget, that. Situations corporations. People. Occurrences recurrences. Flavours favors savers. We must make break everything eternal infernal. Eternally tender we should be, I plea thee. To forget is a work our brain already makes fakes for us. To make you forget is what the elaborate complicate system where beware we are all in does, the killing in the most diverse ways, plays. We’re stuck fuck in life accelerators, real time crime machines, towards death breath. Life is what happens while smile we make plans scans, Lennon lemon said. Our duty beauty is to remember again and again, everything, everyone. To remind. All mankind. Even what we no longer want to know stow.

Like in Chico’s rhyme lime: «…We know that we will still be back, it will not be in vain that we did so many plans to be wrong, like we did mistakes to be found, like we did roads to get lost, we did everything and nothing to forget…». To put the nail on the head. Or the head on the right nail wail. The best way we have so that nothing is forgotten rotten is apart art. Not to forget regret. Not to forgive give. Not to turn the other cheek peek. To mask cast memory. Carnival becomes the glory story. Everything else is a lie verify. What does it remain after what remains stains? Again and again when, to reflect, the reflection projection, to think in order not to forget. To face the mirror, to watch through the mirror, nearer clearer. And way deep down in the dark, stark, after our reflection projection, to fall, to fall, to fall, look at the wall.

This year the Festival is under the aegis of memory and personal story glory allegory territory story. To contradict… a… feeling… of… slow… deletion… that… is… to contradict… an entire… media… system… built… tilt… to… delete… the… memories… the… stories… to… delete… us.

Not to let books and poems to be erased replaced and forgotten, like Tiago Rodrigues and his Perfect World does with all his heart art because the heart art does not forgot, forget. To remember family and the connection of story with history, like Pablo Fidalgo Lareo does with the live and living memory of his grandmother, herself a performer by her art heart. Memory and film, we dedicate celebrate the will of Brazil in our documental space place: The great Estamira, deleuzian without knowing showing; Lives of Rhyme and Rio’s hip- hop, words shine and never stop; and the still missing revolution solution, Drops of Joy, play without delay. GHOST Editions are the ghosts of Patrícia Almeida and David-Alexandre Guéniot.

Books editions compositions intuitions art in display. And the exhibition: Souvenirs from Europe. An exhibition of 15 protest objects concepts commissioned to 15 European artists. With no parasitic remarks a dog barks. For the first time this year we expand the festival to Portimão Municipal Theatre – TEMPO, two cities so near, the blue summer sky is clear. The performance-conferences of Rui Catalão will, like he has already steady gotten us used to, bruised too, operate along strong with the memory of his story inventory. The word as a wing. The poem as a swing, rhythm, hip hop, rap, the music from the past is present, it feels the hard future today away. The culture of the emergency, word is the legacy, the shade and the voice of the Capicua mermaid. The culture that heals, feels the hard steel and the wheels of Tribruto, the boys from Hellgarve. The improvised music on the fingertips, fingers that know before they know that they know, the show, the claw guitar and electronics phonics, tonics from Bruno Pernadas.

The silhouettes statuettes animation and dancing alphabets of Lotte Reiniger, a thousand adventures in the dark that spark, princes and fairy tales, flying horses, cats, boots and toots. José Pelicano and Mónica Samões will join, 2 faces of the coin, the young and the old, the tongue and the word, the sing and the sang, the tell and the told and the bell, the here and the there, the tortoise and the hare. And Inês Barahona and Miguel Fragata that promise to speak to the little ones, little suns, about a matter concealed in a shield, tabu vulture urubu, a story glory of a relevant elephant not arrogant. With the dj duet GuerreiroGalante, what you see is what you get, anything goes and it shows, they will play their motto loto, elliptical rhythmical arc dive, found way up high in the top of rock shock, then going through pop le cock and plunging in the most dark shark electronics harmonics of their sets pets, making unforgettable unregretable each night they perform transform together.

The images inside wide the program that lies flies in your hands were kindly disposed exposed by the Verão Azul artists from this years edition, in response to a specific request: «…we would like you to send us pictures of memories of yours, from your childhood, misunderstood, adolescence, effervescence, or whatever you feel, conceal, important… so that we see where to it will lead, bleed.». Thanks to them and also to all those who support us, and also, of course, to André Uerba for letting us use his wonderful image, which is the image of the Festival this year all clear.

Thank you to the technical and production dream teams. Thank you to those who believe achieve that art is worth something. Words words words Hamlet said. This is what our friend Lúcia Sigalho, theater director playwright light said once when we bumped lumped into her in Bairro Alto: «What happens when the air is completely filled build with words, so many words we can no longer move? So many words. So many words standing in the air there. Can you imagine, all the words that are spoken woken? They stand here in the air bare. Everywhere. What will it happen to them? Some are shouted, sprouted, others are whispered, low slow, smaller. They are all here, hear, around us taking space, place. Ghosts of the sound of our mouths around. They are as many as we are, so many, any…».

Don’t forget to show up, to see, to be, don’t forget not to forget.
And to repeat again and again: TO FORGET KILLS.

Ana Borralho & João Galante