Vapor Festival
The Vapor Festival – organized by Entroncamento City Hall and the National Railway Museum – is a program of music, performance, cinema, literature, workshops and many activities for all ages, at the National Railway Museum, in Entroncamento, Portugal.
Cloud of Future
Ondamarela promoted, for the Vapor Festival, in Entroncamento, the performance “Nuvem de Futuro”, with around 3 dozen people of all ages, from this city. Based on the idea of ”Fantasizing the Future”, phenomena, doubts and certainties, questions and myths were discussed. The city, its characteristics, needs, and the desires of its inhabitants now and for a long time were also discussed. Children from “Sports Holidays” also participated in the construction phase, creating news of the future and the musical basis for one of the themes.
The cloud, the lack of definition, the “maybe…”, the “not knowing”, with the motto of Fernando Pessoa’s Desassossego Book, were the mainstay of the entire performance, which took place on the last day of the Festival, the 29th, throughout from the Festival site, but ending at the Telheiro Stage. A very beautiful process, of great learning, with an amazing group of people. Thanks everyone.
Mist or Cloud? Did it ascend from the earth or descend from the sky? It wasn’t known. It was more like a disease of the air than a descent or an emanation. Sometimes it seemed more like a disease of the eyes than a reality of nature.
Whatever it was, there was a restless feeling throughout the landscape.
blurred tion, made of forgetfulness and attenuation. It was as if the silence of the sun took over an imperfect body. One would say that something was going to happen and that everywhere there was an intuition by which the visible was veiled. It was difficult to tell whether the sky had clouds or rather mist, it was a dull torpor, an imponderably yellowish greyness, except where it faded into false pink or where it stagnated, turning blue, but then it was also impossible to distinguish whether it was the sky that was revealing itself, if it was another blue that covered it.
Nothing was defined or indefinite. That’s why one felt like calling the mist a cloud because it didn’t look like a mist or asking if it was a mist or a cloud because one couldn’t understand what it was.
Bernardo Soares (Fernando Pessoa) Book of Disquiet
Photos by João Roldão