Federico León and a work that revolves around people working on themselves

Playwright, director, and actor Federico León returns with an installation that bears his signature: experimenting with the microscopic nature of the stage. This Friday, June 6, he premieres El trabajo , the sixth installation of the year for Paraíso Club, the membership community that functions as a production house.

The work, in fact, is about a group of theater workshop participants , three people named Matías, Marian, and Dina, who follow a series of strict rules, agreements, commandments, and protocols. “ Practices, self-discipline, and accidents . Attachment and detachment, penances and licenses. Going through reckless trials without considering the consequences, experiments whose outcome is unknown,” reads an accompanying text written by León.

On the borders of theory and practice and perpetual rehearsal , the results seem as unpredictable as they are brutal. Featuring performances by Santiago Gobernori, Beatriz Rajland, and Federico León himself, the work is inspired by the workshops the theater director has been leading for over fifteen years, as if he were putting himself firsthand to experience his own teaching practice. The talented author of plays such as Cachetazo de campo (Field Slap), Mil quincientos metros sobre el nivel de Jack (One Thousand Five Hundred Meters Above Jack's Level), El adolescente (The Adolescent) , and Yo en el futuro (Meet the Future ), spoke in this interview about the challenges of the idea of ​​a creative laboratory in close dialogue with the audience.

–Why did you choose to return with this work?

–I wrote The Work in 2020, during the pandemic. I'd long wanted to do a play about the work I do in the workshops I teach and the workshops I attended when I was a student. To stage that process that happens in classes. I act in the play and, in a way, experience, firsthand, what I usually propose in the workshops.

–What does the production with Paraíso Club mean?

–That a large group of artists can put together a project like this seems incredible and very stimulating to me, especially in this time of year. Paraíso creates a community that closely follows and shares the creative processes of the works. On the other hand, it encourages artists to share their work processes, something that is usually confined to the privacy of rehearsals and shared only with the production team. I'm happy to be part of this community.

–Is there a risk that a spectator who isn't familiar with the dynamics of the theater might feel a bit outside of this theater-watching-itself thing?

–The play is inspired by the work we do in the workshops, but it's not a theater workshop. It goes beyond that. It's about people working on themselves, trying to change patterns of behavior and tendencies. One of the central themes of the play is working against one's own tendency, doing things that are outside my taste, my idea of ​​beauty. It's something we work on a lot in the workshops: doing things that aren't good for me. The play puts into practice criteria for self-evaluation and evaluating others. Feedback is constant. Everything is under observation and is part of a shared effort. Each of the characters seems to be both student and teacher at the same time.

–“The work attempts to summon that uncontrollable energy of the body that doesn't measure, that doesn't calculate, that tests and experiments without limits,” you say in one text. What does that mean in a world where everything must be ultra-planned, productive, and commercialized, so that things perform and function?

–Getting together with a group and going through a process, with all that a process brings (good, bad, mysterious), seems to me to be something that must be sustained, that must be honored, especially in this time. The work was rehearsed for a year and a half. In life, we generally want to resolve and solve everything quickly. In the workshop and rehearsal space, the important thing is the experience and seeing what appears in each of us during the experimentation. And for that, you need time, patience, trust. The idea is to follow the trail, not dismiss anything; what I feel, think, fantasize, dream, the ideas I have, how I react, how I take things: fears, projections, anxiety—all of that speaks about me and is precious material that constitutes me and that I have to share with others. Outside of the workshop space (in life), the logic, the needs, the urgencies are different. It's harder to share my vulnerability, my fears, my doubts. I think what this era proposes is almost the opposite of what is experienced in a creative or learning process.

–Why do you suggest, in parallel with the performance, reading Fragments of an Unknown Teaching by PD Ouspensky?

–In the workshops, the premise is permanent self-observation. Beyond the materials that emerge, the important thing is to observe oneself without intervening. And here another issue arises: Who observes? Who records? Who wields the camera inside me? The one who films is someone who does so with prejudices, with ideas about how things should be done, with fantasies, desires, personal tastes, fears. They are quite conditioned. So the next step is to observe the observer. The work has to do with stretching certain attitudes and perspectives I have on things. Doing small tests to see if I can (even for a moment) break away from my usual way of seeing – feeling – recording. Trying out other ways of seeing, thinking, solving. And those different ways are brought by others. So each person feeds off the other's way of solving. What interests me in this text is the idea that inside me there are thousands of selves that are absolutely contradictory to each other and that are trying to reach an agreement.

–In your workshops, you champion “risky, daring” things. Why do you say that’s your challenge today? Why would that be your job?

–In class and in The Work, we constantly try to move beyond oppositions (pairs of opposites) and find alternatives that can encompass all possibilities. At one point in the play, there's a discussion about eating a brownie or a lemon pie, so one of the characters decides to combine the two cakes and eat them as if they were one. It's renamed "brownie-pie." I like the idea of ​​a summation of seemingly contradictory things. I think that's how our deepest part works. So if my tendency in rehearsals is to do things that hurt me, I think it's good to look for ways of self-care. And that these two forms or energies (seemingly contradictory and opposite) can coexist: to hurt each other with care.

–Finally, the play takes place in a place that was once your home. How did you choose it, and what kind of staging was created based on that space?

–In El trabajo , in a way, the space acts as itself. It's the same place where I teach workshops, and the play relates to the workshops I teach. The play stages the dynamics and particularities of the room. That's why it seemed essential to me to perform it in Zelaya. I'm interested in closeness with the audience. A real interaction and intimacy between actors and audiences occurs. The audience witnesses a staged present that seemingly will never happen again. During the play, the actors sit in the same chairs as the audience. They enter and exit the space that connects the audience to the stage. This creates a dynamic in which, at times, they are participants who come forward, and at other times, spectators and observers of what they experience. The actors and audience participate and are part of the same experience.

The Work , by Federico León. June 7, 8, 14, 15, 20, 21, 22, 27, 28, and 29, at 8 p.m. at Zelaya 3134.