Irene Galindo Quero: si callalo pudié sentirsas

Some time ago, the poet Ángela Segovia and I talked about a text for a piece for ensemble mosaik. I had imagined a kind of Augur who reaches a junction, sorts out his thoughts and feelings and continues in both directions at the same time. I was interested in the idea of parallelism and bifurcation, of temporal directionality with simultaneous counter-intuition. Following paths and coming back to them. Then I read Merci. Dos Hermanos, a long poem by Ángela that she wrote for a kind of catalog for an intervention by Gonzalo Borondo at the Temple des Chartrones in Bordeaux. In the poem, there is a sister and a brother who roam around in different places, perhaps even different worlds: in a church, always dark, yet everything is visible in detail, where there is absolute silence, and in a forest, so full of light that it is impossible to see anything, but where you can even hear the little blades of grass crackling. The two people, both between child and adult, begin to hear each other internally. And so they have a kind of telepathic conversation, comforted by the newly grown-up inner companion. The fragment that appears in my work is therefore a simultaneous poem, written in two voices by Ángela Segovia. The flautist and the violist also act as speakers. The ensemble splits around them and their instruments. Having spent a long time working with materials that arise from transcriptions of sounds, I have transcribed only small threads of sound spectra, which I reassemble into a semi-transparent fabric according to pseudo-cartographic indications. These threads are slight; they would probably have been cut away inconspicuously from a recording, as if one could extract a fine blue vein from the green of a painting and assign it to another context, where it becomes independent.
Irene Galindo Quero