Directed and Produced Flavia D’Avila

Written by Marta Massé

What does it mean to be a woman?

A question which seems to enrage or bemuse the average MP, the question of what makes us who we are, what makes us human, is a profoundly personal one – for as much as we like to attempt to refine it into such a niche box. And as a being emerges from beneath a sheet – embarking on a journey to, perhaps, answer this question for themselves, they may offer some guidance for those in the audience who are already asking themselves something similar.

But this being crawling from the mud – cocooned in clay – is no golem or homunculi, nor the sculpted Galatea – this is a woman emerging into a world with such marvels as love, femininity and self-discovery, and such cruel ascriptions of shame and doubt.

A decade since its premiere at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, as part of the Free Fringe, La Niña Barro returns for a trio of performances at the Assembly Roxy – coinciding with International Women’s Day 2024. Exploring a myriad of ideas and concepts, the instantaneous takeaway from the expressive movement and spoken word is just how individual each experience will be for every audience member.

Inspired by a collection of twenty poems from Spanish writer and journalist Marta Massé, both performers (under the direction of Flavia D’Avila) return to the production for this anniversary run from the Scottish-based Fronteiras Theatre Lab. A wholly unique piece, transcultural, and crossing boundaries while demonstrating some genuine ones, La Niña Barro finds a shape, a human form shifting underneath a tarp; what emerges is a woman caked in clay. Squirming, fighting, and eventually releasing themselves into this intimately shared space; their eyes still covered, hair matted, as they take initial steps with a pure naivety and innocence – the entire room transfixed.

Framed with a remarkably intimate and authentic performance, one where the embodiment of ‘character’ really goes under the surface and into the fabric of actor Elizabeth Sogorb. But far more intensive than characterisation, Sogorb’s physicality and presence relate to the very nature of life, from cradle through to the understanding of vulnerability – one of the most powerful moments when the clay woman, who so far has treated their nudity with abandon and irrelevance, first covers themselves in a move of harsh realism. But even in these more vulnerable and anger-infused moments, La Niña Barro is astonishingly beautiful in encouraging an honest frankness about life.

The choreography and movement of the production are inherently where much of the communication lays, even with the strength of music and spoken word. Sogorb’s physical performance is threaded into their sensations as they (re)discover life, love, fear, and existence. Laced through the performance are extracts of Massé in its original Spanish with a deft skill that communicates with the audience instinctually (English translation provided in the programme). The construction of the spoken word is gorgeous, often harrowing, and clear in its honesty.

Artist and Musician Alexandra Rodes acts as a form of existential guide for the woman, physically and, at times, emotionally. They initiate much of the production with the ‘awakening’ of Sogorb while playing the thumb piano. Clothing and bathing the clay girl, Rodes encourages openness from the audience and Sorgob and is the principal source of sound outside of the rawer slaps and squelches of the mud, water, and flesh by playing this Mbira to accompany the spoken word and lyrical elements. Rodes is less performative in the sense of acting which makes their intimacy and flowing hands more intimate and authentic in their relationship with Sogorb on the Roxy stage – a companion, rather than a co-star.

So again, what does it mean to be a woman? In the ten years since its inception, what it means for all involved may have changed or evolved. A rare time in which you so desperately wish you had been able to see both incarnations. La Niña Barro is, in truth, more about the experience than the outright opinions and thoughts that it may stoke – each experience is entirely individual and deserving. It exists as both a requiem and celebration, a stirring piece of communicative movement and theatre which may raise as many smiles as it does shed tears.

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