COLORSxSTUDIOS

COLORS: How would you describe carnival to someone who had never heard of it before? 

Rodrigo Guima: The short way to describe carnival is to say that it’s a large celebration that happens once a year for four days. But, for me, carnival is about community, love, and revolution. Physical bodies, and all of the questions relating to physical bodies are at the center of the experience.

Some research says that carnival has its roots in antiquity, and that in Ancient Greece and Egypt they would also have a popular celebration in line with the arrival of Spring. Other people think that it originates from the cult of the goddess Isis. In regards to Brazil in particular, carnival arrived in the country as a result of colonization by the Portuguese. It was originally called Entrudo, which translates to English as ‘introduction’. At the time it was basically a violent street game where all kinds of abuse and atrocities were permitted. It was common for the Black slaves to throw water, eggs, powder, and rotten oranges at eachother in the streets, while the rich, white families would have fun in their homes, throwing buckets of dirty water on people from their windows. So there was a contrast between how slaves and white people experienced the celebration.

Obviously things are quite different now: even though there are still some classist remnants, the celebration has become very popular in Brazil and now involves music, local customs, and is more democratic. But the essence of playing games, and being allowed to break away from the rigidity of everyday life and social structures remains very important to the festival.

COLORS: Why do you think carnival still holds so much significance in Brazil today?

RG: Carnival is a time of the year where you can allow yourself to do things that would usually be condemned by society, or religion for example. You can externalise the pressure of the oppressive capitalist and fanatically religious world we live in right now. For me, it’s an opportunity to remove some social masks—which is ironic as people wear physical masks during carnival—and be yourself. A writer once said: we don’t celebrate carnival because we are happy, but because we are sad most of the time.

COLORS: You founded your own carnival parade, Tarado Ni Voce, with a group of friends. What inspired you to do this?

RG: It was a combination of things. Me and my friends all wanted to create a new experience and to bring the energy from Bahia to São Paulo. We also wanted to celebrate the work of Caetano Veloso, who is a singer and songwriter. He is from Bahia, and was an important figure in tropicalia: an art movement that arose in the 1960s and mixed together Brazilian and foreign traditions, as well as the popular and the avant-garde. It was really significant, because it came about when Brazil was living under a dictatorship.

For us, Caetano is one of the biggest poets in the country. He’s almost like our David Bowie. No matter what part of society you are from, you know Caetano: his music was actually used for a lot of soap operas when I was growing up in the ’80s. He sings for everyone, so he’s a great starting point from which we devise experiences during the carnival period in different places and spaces across the city. In 2018, our parade was actually asked to do a short performance at Virada Cultural 2018 in São Paulo. We invited Caetano to come and sing with us, and he accepted! It was a beautiful moment.

This year Caetano will celebrate his 80th birthday. It’s a really important year for us because it’s also our parade’s 10th anniversary, an election year, the centenary of Brazil’s modern art week, and 200 years since Brazil gained independence. I shouldn’t say independence actually. I prefer to say 200 years of resilience in Brazil, because we’re still living with the effects of colonization.

COLORS: In 2020 your parade was politically driven, and very critical of the Brazilian president Jair Bolsonaro. What was this edition of the parade like? What motivated you to respond to the country’s political climate?  

RG: Our focus on Bolsonaro actually started in 2018. For that edition of the parade, we chose the theme “profane” to fight against the rise of conservatism in Brazil. At that time, we didn’t know Bolsonaro was going to be president, because the carnival was in February and the election wasn’t until October. But there had already been a lot of cuts to cultural funding, a queer museum was closed, and some performances were censored.

Since then, most of our parades have been influenced by the shift in Brazilian politics. In 2019 we choose the theme “Gente é pra brilhar!” In English it means “people are made to shine.” We were trying to reconnect people with light during a very dark period. In 2020, the theme was “Terra Transe”, which translates as “earth trance.” We wanted to talk about politics in relation to the climate crisis, and particularly tragedies that were happening in Brazil. It’s quite overwhelming to think we were talking about “earth trance” just one month before the pandemic started.

Coming back to Bolsonaro, and the year he was elected, I think we realised that we had an opportunity and a platform to alert people, and to unite all the movements that are fighting for a better, fairer world. To build the parade we worked with many different singers and artists, most of whom were involved in politics. Just being an artist in Brazil right now is political. Everything is about politics.

COLORS: Why do you think that carnival, art, dance, and music are such effective means of protest, and making people’s voices heard? 

RG: Carnival is all about using the body, heart, and mind to create a cathartic moment where people can realise things in the physical as opposed to the digital world. When you’re on the street for carnival, it’s all about reality. It’s not about mobile phones, computers, or televisions, it’s real life happening through our bodies.

COLORS: Carnival was canceled last year because of the global pandemic. How did this make you and your team feel? What was the effect of not being able to run the carnival?

RG: It was sad for everyone. Organizing the parade is a really long process that usually starts in August the year before. We usually spend six months building this 6 hour experience, so it was difficult not to have this platform to put our love and energy into. We spent the whole year in fear of what the future held. Not having the opportunity to take to the streets, to try to change society, and to connect with others in a collective way was really strange.

We need to keep an eye on this, because as panic around the virus and the different variants is taking hold all over the world, I’m pretty sure the government will try to cancel the carnival again. Dancing is powerful, it gives people a sense of freedom. I don’t think the government wants people to feel this power right now. Of course the pandemic is serious and we need to make sure everyone stays safe, but we should find a way around it so that we can all feel the carnival energy in one way or another.

COLORS: What are your hopes and dreams for the future of carnival in Brazil, and your parade in particular?

RG: It’s hard to think about the future, because things change all the time with the pandemic. My main hope is just that we can find a way to make the carnival happen in 2022. I don’t know what it’ll be like, maybe we’ll have to adapt the parade, maybe it won’t look like the carnivals people have attended in the past, but I’m still hopeful for this new future.