Lilian Baylis Studio

Rocío Márquez & Bronquio

Tercer cielo

Tercer cielo (Third heaven)

There is a paradise on the threshold, a field of clouds on the hinges, an empyrean territory, evolving and shifting, between the one and the other, between past and future, emotion and thought, memory and desire, dream and wakefulness, night and light, the world and us. There is a zone in the cracks, as fragile as it is rich, that expresses neither power nor submission. Here it is possible to find and wait. This place, despised by the System and by the taxidermists of certainty, is a sacred place. A third heaven. A home without a house. A liminal universe. This is the mental and creative space-time, the meeting point where the artists Rocío Márquez and Bronquio have remained.

Here, the voice, the breath, the bodies, the machine, the magnetic field. The umbilical cord of flamenco. The art of sound in time and in our time. The old wisdom in the rhythm and in the collective conscience. The dissonant wave that an emotion generates in the mind, and that provokes a song that crosses the beats and the throat. What is left to live.

The third heaven is reached by immersion. In this creative transit, Rocío Márquez and Bronquio describe an itinerary that goes from the forehead to the chest and from inside to the world. From white to black. Such a process requires not only the clear light of reason, technique and experience, but also the understanding of the fingertips, the psychic root of words, the cloudy flash of intuition, symbols and the rite that awakens the myth as if blowing a dormant ember. All this was already known by the ancients −so dead and yet so alive− who show us that creation is the mother of tradition, and that is why it is possible to take it as a point of impulse and even violate it if necessary in order to continue creating. In this way they gave us freedom.
freedom. The first word could only be a cry, wrote Félix Grande. What is it, if not, a whine, from where does it come from?

To step on firm skies, Rocío Márquez and Bronquio express themselves with a clear voice and in babbling, in sound textures, loops, compás, silence, samplings, accents, effects, breaths, ayeos, pop iconography, poetry. Cozy and fistful territory, Temporarily Autonomous Zone. The distortion of the voice prolongs the agony of the howl in a debla. García Lorca attends the electronic version of a goblin exprimelimones that faces death, the woman born of herself extends her invisible merchandise in the skirt, in the hollow inside a stranger sprouts, freedom crashes against the high walls of the sane, not knowing while knowing opens its doors and raves or verdiales parties print in 3D the center of the ring or the shadow: there the flame burns. The result is a form of expression, but not only. It is also a form of knowledge. Trips like this are one-way, but without return. Those who return to give us their work, Rocío Márquez and Bronquio, return from elsewhere. A wild patience −ay, oh, Adrienne Rich− has brought us here.

Rocío Márquez & Bronquio