I don’t normally think of Portuguese cow-herders as queer icons. If the sweaty and sensual Terra Cobre (2023) is anything to go by, I will have to radically change my view of that particular grain of pastoral masculinity.
Marco da Silva Ferreira is a Portuguese choreographer with a rising presence on the international stage. Together with musician and sound sculptor João Pais Filipe, he conceptualised this performance as an outdoor installation. In Brugge Concertgebouw’s Chamber Music Hall, the interaction with the distinctive architecture remains engaging. Da Silva Ferreira climbs the walls, and in a joyous crescendo he skips down the three spiralling galleries lined with audience members.
The performance opens with the two performers concealed by long black wigs standing behind two rust-stained metal sheets lined perpendicularly on the front of the stage, the tone is more solemn than explorative. When da Silva Ferreira, dressed only in green tights and Dr Martens, tucks his left hand into his crotch while swinging a heavy cowbell and swirling on the spot, the vibe is still more muscular bull than coquettish faun.
Pais Filipe, dressed in black and with an air of calm precision, oversees a battalion of drums, bells, and gongs. Still, it’s da Silva Ferreira who steals the spotlight with his raw, physical performance, evolving from a swaggering, muscle-bound peasant into something a little more… unconventional. His movements gradually transform into exaggerated hip thrusts and wavy abdominal rolls, as though he’s slowly ‘queering’ the traditional, rugged masculine imagery.
Yet, while the duo’s contrasting energies – raw physicality juxtaposed against musical clarity – cohere in the final act, there’s a mid-performance change of pace that lingers in the mind. When Pais Filipe leaves the comfort zone of his battery of instruments, a clumsy pas de deux ensues. The two performers fumble through awkward embraces, and the contrast between the sensual da Silva Ferreira and stiff Pais Filipe is messy, disjointed, and a little confusing. When Pais Filipe ultimately yanks da Silva Ferreira’s tights down to reveal his shiny posterior, it’s more baffling than revealing. As if having second thoughts, the musician makes a self-conscious retreat to his instruments. But in a way, this silent and puzzling lull in the music captures the show’s eccentric allure.
