Rosy and I first met suspended in the air. It was a few years ago, at an aerial fabric class at a circus school in Anderlecht where she taught. After that, fate made us run into each other several times at a red light stop or at queer parties in the city.
A few weeks ago, we sat down at the Jezebel studio, one of her creative venues, to look back on her career. It was a joyous encounter, brimming with good humor, during which we discussed her life's journey from Caracas to Brussels, the importance of reclaiming public space as an artist, the primordial place of Latin America in the circus milieu and the transformative power of art.
In Molenbeek, Rosy opens the doors to a magical place. She welcomes me to the Jezebel studios, the only Dutch-speaking pole-dance studio in Brussels, between wigs and pairs of stiletto heels. She's been teaching here for a few months now, and confides that here she truly feels she's met her “crew”, a team who share her language, her artistic vision. And a space to create: "Here, I have a space to create and test. I learn a lot and try out new things. Being in such a queer place gives my performances another level of message, a sense of struggle. Through improvisation, it's about making claims on our bodies”. But it's also about finding one's voice, one's character, by incorporating new elements, very Rosy, into the practice of pole-dance, markers from the circus world or even break-dance.
The circus tradition in Latin America
Rosy began her artistic career in the theatrical milieu of Caracas. There, she studied theater and formed a duo with a clown from the Circus Company of Venezuela. She then spent a few months in Argentina, where she rediscovered circus practice from a different angle. Latin America has always been a strong creative ground for circus artists. The Brussels circus school is brimming with talent from this continent. According to Rosy, "there's a very strong tradition in Chile and Argentina. There are lots of places to create and experiment. Everyone is constantly training, which creates emulation and information sharing between artists".
A practice that has moved out of the sheds, the big tops and the circus schools to take over the public space. In Latin American megalopolises, circus artists are storming traffic lights. Rosy started doing this in Caracas, with an Argentinean juggler. "In Latin America, juggling at red lights is very normal. Culturally, there's no stigma; people don't have any negative preconceptions about the practice. It's a way of generating extra income while practicing your discipline". It's a practice that's beginning to appear on the main boulevards of Brussels, a movement in which Rosy participates. "There are more and more of us, but the vast majority are still Latinos. We're more in the summer, when Latin American artists come to Europe on their travels and want to earn a bit of money to continue their journey". These red-light meetings have earned her many surprises. "I've had groups of revellers give me 50 euros, or even an iPhone! It's often very funny, but you have to do street shows when you're feeling good emotionally”.
An artistic practice in direct contact with people
The practice of her art enables her to generate direct contact with people, a true thread running through her career. "In Venezuela, I used to perform in the metro. By the end, I knew all the lines by heart! With another company, she staged a theater show in the homes of a working-class district of Caracas. "We created a whole circuit, from house to house. The whole community was incorporated into the production team. This sometimes meant having to negotiate with the urban gangs that control these neighborhoods. In the end, they were so involved that they lent us their motorcycles and Jeeps to set up our equipment in these neighborhoods, which are located in the hills of Caracas". A creative experience in which art holds real transformative power. “This contact was so enriching, we were playing for children who had never been out of the neighborhood". It is this search for meaning in her practice that she continues to weave in Brussels, for example by getting involved in the Zinneke Parade.
Rosy arrived in Brussels in 2015. A bit by chance, a bit by force. She was living in Brazil at the time, then spent some time in Brussels. Where an accident forced her to remain immobilized. "I had no intention of staying,” she says, ”then fate, I literally couldn't move. I had no other choice. Then, one fine day, I had access to a mutuelle to treat my illness, and that was the element that convinced me to stay! “ she says, bursting into laughter. After nine years away from Venezuela, she remains attached to her roots. "All my family is still there. I try to go, but it's not easy. I went to the border with Brazil a few years ago with a project run by the NGO Clowns Without Borders. The idea was to go there in February with friends who have a social circus project, but right now, everything's at a standstill, everyone's waiting for aid that's not coming. It's an exhausting situation, it's the cross and the banner to be able to develop artistic projects in the country. There comes a point when you just give up."
Her plans for the future
However, Rosy is bubbling over with plans for the future. Projects at the crossroads of several artistic practices, where boundaries become blurred. "In contemporary practice, everything mixes together. I don't like what's clean, techniques are made to be acquired and then deconstructed". And she'd also like to take pole-dance out of its adult, erotic context. She is currently working on a pole-dance show, “Flexstory”, for the whole family. "I'm in the process of creating a street show, from scratch. With pole-dance, I've often been put in a box, that of shows for adults. Or people don't know what it is. One day, someone even asked me how I could dance in a pool (pool-dance)", she says, laughing out loud.
A street show that would blend all her influences, from pole-dance with break-dance accents, to masks and balancing exercises. And one that would be accessible to children, to break down the stereotypes generally associated with the discipline. Talking of children, her students for the beginners' class are starting to arrive, "pole babies!" Before concluding the interview, I ask her what object, symbolizing her “hogar”, she wanted to bring along. Rosy pulls out a cup&ball game from her backpack. The sensory symbol of a childhood in Venezuela, the sound of a toy that takes her back to the school playground and the extravagance that still characterizes her: “I used to have one, it looked like it was made of ice, in super bling-bling transparent plastic”. For us, unfortunately, it's the end of playtime, and Rosy has to welcome her students. With her characteristic good humor, creativity and kindness.
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