We were sitting at a round glass table. It was a summer night. The stars sang like crickets and there wasn’t a hint of wind. Boys and girls in a circle, wearing colorful garlands and colorful faces painted with white, blue, green, and orange. Someone read a poem, and the rest of us painted it. Another made a drawing, and the rest of us reflected it in verse. Notebooks and pencils passed back and forth. Conversation and silence came and went. Joy lingered, vibrating with the music. “Johnny says stay cool. Breath in, breath out.”
Out of nowhere, J. got completely naked, and we all laughed because that’s something he did more and more frequently. I guess he felt comfortable that way. This time, the idea of undressing crossed everyone’s mind, but there was hesitation. The tone was far from erotic; it was more like children about to do something mischevious. Should we do it? Then the last thing I would have expected occured: I began undressing myself. I was the shy and sensible one, but this time I felt deeply supported by their open hearts. So, like one plunging into the sea from a height, I took everything off and stood there as I came into this world. If I had done it, no one had an excuse. 15 seconds later, we were all completely naked around the table, bursting with laughter. We saw our bodies, masculine and feminine, beautiful and vulnerable in their unique forms. We accepted them, loved them, and continued painting, writing, and chatting until the cold night dressed us again.
The last major change that occurred after my return from Chicago was the formation of a new group of friends. On the day I presented my engineering thesis project, I hopped into a car with J. and L., and we headed north. We spent several days in the Basque Country, drinking cider, improvising absurd plays, playing songs, drinking cider, strolling among hydrangeas and apple trees, busy bars and streets, drinking wine, and also some cider.
One day, we visited a museum that had a table for children to sit and paint or make collages. We accepted the invitation, and the three of us sat down and got to work. We were then overtaken by something powerful, which threw us into a creative process that was at once individual and communal. After finishing, we felt like we had just unlocked something big. This is the collage that I made that day.
A few hours later, back at the place where we were staying, we sat down again, each with our notebook and pencils, and started drawing again. That night, we spent around 6 hours drawing non-stop, playing all the games that came to mind: now a portrait of the person to your left, now to the right, now we paint an invented character, now a metaphor, now I draw you from here, now from there. The whole night slipped away in that creative ecstasy. Here are some of the drawings I made during that first explosive night.
We repeated the plan every remaining day of the trip. We were intoxicated not only with cider but also with the feeling of having discovered a new way of relating and creating. Was it a new artistic movement? We didn’t know what it was, but we had tapped into something new that enveloped and inspired us endlessly.
L. suggested we call it Buguelass, a term coined by the comedian Ernesto Sevilla, which he described as the opposite of déjà vu, that is, the feeling when you enter a place and think, ‘Damn, I’ve never been here in my entire life.’ That’s how we felt, and that’s what we called it.
Upon returning to Madrid, P. organized a gathering at her house. We brought instruments, swimsuits, towels, pencils, notebooks, and our effervescent bodies and minds, and we blended it all into a party that extended for several days. The 8 or 10 of us were as if under a spell, enchanted by Buguelass, and the party unfolded as an improvised sequence of creative games.
We dressed up, did collaborative paintings, formed harmonic circles where our voices merged into a river of sound, played and improvised songs, danced standing, lying down, barefoot, in the water. We drafted a Buguelass manifesto that probably made no sense, and we embarked on a collective adventure that continues to evolve to this day.
Buguelass was a group of friends, but it was something more. It was a culture, a spirit, a way of being together, an exploration of friendship and creativity in community. It was a vehicle that never failed to take us to magical places. Like that day when…
Blue birds leaving trails in the dark sky of my mind. The trees dance like vibrant green flames, framing the river and rising like mountains on the edges of my vision. The entire forest sings and laughs in unison. Hi hi hi, ha ha ha! Finally, I summon the courage to plunge my feet into the freezing water, slipping with each step until I reach the large rock in the center of the river. I climb it, lie down on its warm belly, and let the sun dry my skin. White carp flying slowly in their celestial pond. I am an empty bowl, placed on the top of a temple, receiving the universe like a waterfall.
Picture by Rachel Touset
But our time together wasn’t always a creative frenzy. There were also long days of contemplation:
R. took a stroll to converse with the olive trees
I. read verses about nothingness
P. blended yoga and dance in the living room
V. smoked outside, filling his silence with soft music
J.’s voice descended the stairs, doing scales, arpeggios and pirouettes
Meanwhile, L.’s voice counterattacked from the shower, singing something halfway between Freddie Mercury and Baloo.
I either meditated or played guitar or sat down to contemplate P.’s dance, or I joined R.’s walk.
Long and peaceful afternoons, until hunger brought us all together in the kitchen. A. and S. had been cooking spaguetti carbonara. We then opened a bottle of Buguelass wine, toasted like good siblings, and another night of drawings, dances, and poems began.
Picture by Rachel Touset
Today, I was reading about the etymology of the word “crisis.” It comes from the Greek verb “krinein,” which means “to separate, decide, judge.” A crisis is when something breaks, forcing one to analyze the pieces and figure out what to do.
In a crisis, a structure that gave shape to our lives becomes obsolete. When the tension reaches a critical point, the structure cracks, and our lives fall into a period of chaos. That’s the passage through the dark side of the hill we all fear. But it’s the toll to pay to make way for new structures that are more aligned with who we truly are and guide us towards where we intuit we should go.
The post-Chicago period was marked by a general crisis. Many of the structures that had supported me until then cracked simultaneously. Fortunately, Buguelass quickly came to the rescue. So, while in some spheres, I was taking my first steps toward the dark side of the hill, with this group of friends, I was already enjoying a new order on the sunny side.
Buguelass was a renaissance.
Here, I found my stroke in drawing, my culinary skills, or the freedom to dance again after 15 years bound by shyness.
Here, I found a community where I could restore my childhood. When was the last time you looked at blades of grass with wonder?
Interestingly, as I restore the things I did as a child, they seem to be gradually shaping who I am as an adult. Playing with complete seriousness, creating and expressing myself without fear, learning like a total beginner, opening up to others, inviting them to do the same – these are some of the ingredients that conformed Buguelass, and also what I want my life to be made of.
Buguelass, like any living entity, has gone through its own crises. Old members have left, and new ones have arrived. Intimate relationships have formed, and others have dissolved. But something remains, and it continues to unite us, always in new and surprising ways. So after 7 years, we keep creating and growing together.
From this group and its inexhaustible creative spirit, a new and particularly tasty fruit has emerged this week. It’s the most significant collaborative work since we filmed the music video for “If I Was a Bird.” This time, Juan is the one singing. He just released the first single from his new album, recorded with his band entirely live and on tape, as it was done before computers existed. Rachel has recorded a music video for him using puppets and incredible sets which could very well be in a museum. Everything shines with love, humor, talent, and attention to detail. I’ll leave it here for you. Let’s play!
A.
