Processo – Sou Aquela Mulher do Canto Esquerdo do Quadro

Nos anos de 2017 e 2018 realizei leituras do texto preliminar no Brasil e no México.

A primeira leitura pública do texto foi realizada no G>E de Peito Aberto na Casa do Povo a convite da artista Karlla Girotto, idealizadora e coordenadora do projeto. Fernanda foi uma das convidadas no segundo semestre de 2017 e o texto foi lido coletivamente por quem esteve presente. Depois o texto foi retrabalhado, publicado no Jornal de Borda cujo lançamento foi em janeiro de 2018. E, ao longo do primeiro semestre de 2018, foram realizadas cinco leituras coletivas no México tanto na universidade por duas ocasiões (Seminário Cultura Visual y Género – Muac/Unam e FAD/Unam) quanto em espaços de Arte Contemporânea (nos seguintes locais e cidades: Impronta, Puebla; Leemos juntas, Xalapa; Relaciones Inesperadas, Tijuana). Ao retornar ao Brasil, Fernanda fez a última leitura que aconteceu no curso Entre a história das mulheres anarquistas e o conhecimento situado, Centro de Formação e Pesquisa SESC. Lermos juntas é retornar a narrativa ao seu lugar original: a oralidade e fazer dela um encontro para além do texto escrito.

Abaixo duas das leituras do texto. As leituras sempre começavam com o vídeo Sou aquela mulher do canto esquerdo e depois a leitura do texto.

Na FAD / UNAM – México, a convite de Leslie González (professora)

Lectura, FAD/Unam/México: Soy aquella mujer del extremo izquierdo del cuadro from Fernanda Grigolin on Vimeo.

Lectura, FAD/Unam/México: Soy aquella mujer del extremo izquierdo del curado from Fernanda Grigolin on Vimeo.

No CPF do SESC, no curso Entre a história das mulheres anarquistas e o conhecimento situado

Leitura coletiva: Sou aquela mulher do canto esquerdo do quadro. from Fernanda Grigolin on Vimeo.

O vídeo que é assistido antes das leituras encontra-se abaixo, ele também foi um dos trabalhos do projeto Arquivo 17. A mulher do canto esquerdo do quadro foi a narradora do processo.

Sou aquela Mulher do Canto Esquerdo do Quadro from Fernanda Grigolin on Vimeo.

A versão em inglês (abaixo) saiu no Bulletin#11 – São Paulo Out of Reach, editing by Claudio Zecchi

I am that woman in the left corner of the frame

Yes, it’s me. I remember the year, it was 1923. I put on my main dress and left to accompany the funeral procession in front of the factory. Everyone wore their best attires, children ran everywhere. The Spinning Chief was standing next to the Foreman. Everyone near me seemed to be at a party, very few cries. For us it was much more of a holiday than a day of pain. Nami Jafet had died, end of the year. I don’t really remember very well what he died from. It’s been a long time. What I do remember is that they opened the doors of the mansion, and some of us followed the wake very closely. Zé, my deceased, was gone. He wanted to see from up-close all of the money in marble and the designed stairways. I refused to enter. A big house that is for few people has never done me well.

The streets beneath and above the Ipiranga were loaded with flags. My neighbor made good use of his wedding suit, from a week before, he put it on and went around the neighborhood. A lady who worked with me in Spinningwore the same attire that she had worn for Christmas, she confided in me. Cars and birds passed by. Men photographed and filmed. One was right next to me. I looked at him several times. Is he some relative of yours? How did you get a hold of these images? I remember that checkered dress so well. I sewed, used the same fabric that was made at the factory, it was the only tissue that I could buy at the time.

The burial of Jafet was very different from Martinez’s, of six years later. You have never heard of Martinez?! In this story I did not appear in close-up photos, but I lived much more. It was in 1917, Martinez had been severely injured in front of Mariângela, and died soon afterwards. The streets of Brás taken over by the cavalry, which came onto the people, without any pity; children and women were dragged along. Some shots, I heard. A very young girl died on the same day. I think she was called Eduarda. On the 11th of July, we all wore black, we were many women, the flags were simple, we cut up black and red fabrics that we had at home. We raised it, we screamed. The death of Martinez was not accepted, he was our comrade-in-arms. The city occupied, life in suspension. We wanted the best for everyone.

The burial of the ill-fated Martínez. It was a tribute like no other, which the strikers of São Paulo paid to the unfortunate comrade Martínez, the first victim of policiesque fury. The procession, that the authorities intended to divert from the center of the city, crossed the main streets before making its way to the Araçá cemetery, where the unfortunate worker’s body was interred. Not only did the burial not take place at the cemetery on the 4th Stop, as had had been the wish of the police, but also the enormous mass that formed the procession continued on to where it well intended, against the expressed will of the bossy ones who had not esteemed listening, in their face, and near their den, the vehement accusations of the mobs, laden with justified revolt. Like this, the crowd took, end-to-end, the streets of 15 de Novembro and São Bento, where the peddler aristocrats exercised their profitable commerce. A Plebe, July 21st, 1917

Carta à Maria Lacerda de Moura

Uma carta da mulher do canto esquerdo do quadro é encarte no livro A mulher é uma degenerada.

São Paulo, 4 de maio de 1925

Estimada Sra. Maria Lacerda de Moura,

Quero manifestar a Senhora uma prova de infinita gratidão por tão importante escrito – A mulher é uma degenerada. Seu livro me foi entregue na última primavera pela irmã de meu compadre, sua conhecida amiga Gilka. Ela veio a São Paulo, aqui no Ipiranga, para nos fazer uma visita, e me presenteou com tão ilustre obra.

(….)