Theatre review: Memories of a Lullaby
The realities of Venezuelan life brought to the stage in a haunting, yet heart-warming, performance piece
'I am not an artist. I am a performer,' giggles Venezuelan, Saras Feijoo, at the relaxed post-show discussion. Having spent the previous hour both painting and performing the story of her childhood in Venezuela, her modesty is unnecessary. Through a combination of storytelling, physical political theatre and visual art, Feijoo joyously reflects on her life in a nation riven by strife and celebrates the power of hope to overcome even the most daunting of obstacles.
From the sound of gunshots to the pleasure of the sun beating down on her skin, through the discovery of a dead body to dancing the night away with her friends: Feijoo's Venezuela is a country of contrast, with brutality interrupting the pleasures of growing up.
Feijoo has the charming off-kilter dynamism of a drunk seven year old: funny, full of energy, imagination and innocence. Simultaneously filled with love and hate for the land of her birth, the simplicity of her story-telling style belies Memories Of A Lullaby's moral complexity.
Although there are times when she labours a point or a joke, but the final image – reworking bullet-holes on her canvas into bright red roses – is an elegant symbol of both the show and her intention. Taking hate and horror, through the alchemy of art, she transforms them into poetry, beauty and love.