Yoani
YOANI is a multimedia song cycle scored for mezzo, electric guitar, cello and electronics. With lyrics by Royce Vavrek, starring jazz sensation Sofia Rei Koutsovitis, James Moore and Clarice Jensen. Film by Carmen Kordas.
My fascination with Yoani Sanchez began years ago. I began reading her blog, and eventually contacted her through various handlers. The communication I had with various people here in the US who are helping her disseminate and translate her blog, created a meta-theatrical backbone upon which I one day hope to create this piece. Yoani is a Cuban philologist and blogger who was named “Time 100 Most Influential People”. She has achieved international fame and multiple international awards for her critical portrayal of life in Cuba under its current government on her blog, Generation Y http://www.desdecuba.com/generationy/. This first installment of Yoani is based on her portrayal of everyday Cuba. From the shortage of oranges to the wrenching journey of a trans woman “Olivia”, this work will celebrate the life of Yoani: an internet revolutionary who is bringing a voice to her generation.
Yoani is a VisionIntoArt production. Eventually, Yoani will be a thirty minute multimedia work for solo vocalist, film, and projection design.
TEXT
YOANI
by Royce Vavrek
The Gift of Five Mandarins
My fingers won’t peel you fast enough.
My fingers won’t peel you fast enough.
They will smell of mandarins
They will smell of mandarin zest for days.
He pulls
Embarrassed, excited,
Offering me the small mesh bag
Of things he worried were all-too common.
My nose buried
Reacquainted with the scent of citrus.
He watches as my nails dig in
Uncovering the meat
Of this forbidden fruit.
He has no idea.
Scenes from my childhood play out
juice on fingers.
stains on shirts.
November air flavored citrus.
Stains?…
juice on fingers.
stains on shirts.
November air flavored citrus.
Stains…
stains on fingers.
A mound of orange peels
On the floor,
I note the novelty of this import:
The mandarins come by boat!
The mandarins come by boat!
Recall the juice
Extracted from Cuban crops,
Or harvests on the Isla de la Juventud.
I relish the sweetness
satiated for a moment,
And saddened for two.
Olivia
Miguel puts on his suit and tie,
Brown jacket, string tie,
His hair feathered,
His beard longer than it’s been in 10 years.
Miguel laughs at his reflection
In the mirror, in his spoon, in the lenses of strangers’ sunglasses:
The absurdity of the brown jacket, the string tie…
Joke is on them.
Miguel walks with his hands in his trousers,
Training his fingers to reside there
And not in some tell-tale gesticulation.
His effeminacy will not spoil his departure.
Miguel escapes to Ecuador
An exit made possible by his marriage to some Quito woman.
In the first stall,
At the first bathroom,
Miguel sheds the suit,
Like a serpent discarding his old skin.
Miguel polishes his nails,
Combs through his wig,
Zips the back of the red cocktail dress,
Shaves the three-day growth from his face…
Again looking at his reflection:
Miguel reunites with Olivia.
