During a conversation with Granada-born flamenco choreographer Manuel Liñán, he reflects on his dance training as a boy. He recalls the strict rules that governed male dancers at that time, restricting their movements and expressions. Liñán envied the freedom and grace of his female counterparts, who were able to swirl their hands in fluid, circular motions. These gendered education practices were necessary for success in the mainstream flamenco industry.
Flamenco, deeply rooted in tradition and virtuosity, might be expected to uphold conservative values. However, it was once a form of dissent, a protest against injustice and oppression. Different styles of flamenco, such as seguiriya and soleá, channelled sorrow and told stories of neglected Romani communities, who have played a significant role in flamenco’s development. The rhythmic beat of the martinete echoed the songs of marginalized blacksmiths. Today, contemporary flamenco artists are reclaiming flamenco’s radical origins, challenging conventions and embracing transgressive, feminist, and queer approaches.
Liñán gained recognition for his work with the bata de cola, a long-trained dress traditionally worn by female dancers. Last year, his work ¡Viva! featured a troupe of men performing as female bailaoras, complete with ruffled skirts, Manila shawls, and flowers in their hair. Flamenco, once co-opted as part of Franco’s popular culture agenda, has now returned to its rebellious roots.
Now, Liñán is developing an experimental new work that explores his own sexuality. He is also delving into the copla, an early 20th-century singing style that contains hidden meanings about same-sex relationships. For many gay individuals persecuted at the time, music became a medium for expressing their love.
Dance historian Fernando López Rodríguez’s book, “Queer History of Flamenco,” traces the practice of cross-dressing in flamenco back to the late 19th century. Women like Dora la Gitana and Trinidad la Cuenca defied societal expectations by dressing in men’s clothing and embodying male identities on and off the stage. López Rodríguez suggests that these individuals could be understood today as non-binary or trans. Male performers, such as Edmond de Bries, played a crucial role in aligning flamenco with the creative aspirations of marginalized communities.
Olga Pericet, a prominent dancer, believes that the early origins of flamenco are intertwined with the changing social role of women in the late 19th century. She sees the birth of flamenco in the creation of the modern Spanish guitar, La Leona, by luthier Antonio de Torres in 1856. Pericet herself embodies the spirit of the lioness, with her wild hair and powerful stage presence. Her exploration of flamenco’s beginnings reveals a society that condemned women who earned their own money through art and entertainment. The cafés cantantes, where they performed, were associated with prostitution, and women’s bodies were objectified. The flamenco dancer became simultaneously alluring and terrifying, seen as a hypnotic figure.
In addition to Pericet, other artists like Rocío Molina and Israel Galván are pushing contemporary flamenco in radical directions. Molina’s latest work, Carnación, is a stormy duet exploring desire, intimacy, and repression. The performance features various physical acts between two bodies, wrestling, embracing, and colliding. It has been hailed as a groundbreaking exploration of queer themes in flamenco.
These artists embrace deconstructive approaches saturated with movement, aesthetics, and music from outside of flamenco. Their spirit echoes the primal origins of the form, which emerged as a raw and impure expression. However, normative attitudes continue to persist in modern flamenco, rooted in the Franco regime’s use of flamenco to attract foreign tourism by presenting a cleaned-up, conservative version. Artists today are addressing the lasting impact of these attitudes.
In Barcelona, Flamenco Queer, a grassroots project led by Rubén Heras and Jero Férec, reclaims flamenco for the LGBTQ+ community. They aim to create a safe space for queer audiences to experience authentic flamenco. By performing against a backdrop of sparkly drapes and captivating the crowd with their quejío, they aim to reconcile queer individuals with flamenco and its history of repression.
Pericet seeks to redress the power imbalance inherent in the feminization of Torres’s lioness guitar. As she embodies the instrument, she reclaims the eroticized female form and channels its ferocity and power.
Pericet views flamenco as anarchic, both in its form and social function. She wants to embody the beast within all of us on stage. Flamenco Festival 2023 at Sadler’s Wells in London will feature these innovative and rebellious approaches to flamenco.
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