Havana Theater Director Kidnapped on Election Eve
Saturday at 4:10 pm, the young theater director and activist Adonis Milan was kidnapped at the intersection of 13 and 6 Streets Vedado, Havana.
Saturday at 4:10 pm, the young theater director and activist Adonis Milan was kidnapped at the intersection of 13 and 6 Streets Vedado, Havana.
Cuban society is moving more and more towards individualism, saving oneself at any cost, in the face of the chaos and social disorder that have taken over the country.
Ever since I began making Political Theater, one thing hasn’t stopped tormenting me, it’s almost psychological torture. It has something to do with the fact that you end up living in a constant state of paranoia.
I recently read Tania Bruguera’s statements about an artist’s rights. One of them referred to the artist’s right to dissent. Within an authoritarian system, the artist begins to live a double dissidence, first in art, then in society.
Kairos Theater is an independent group which came into being in 2012. An alternative project which tries to survive in an itinerant manner. Patriotismo 36-77 is the new piece that is currently in the process of being put together.
Not too long ago, I was speaking to a historian who told me she was up-to-date with the news relating to acts of censorship that have taken place over recent months. With a gesture of political indifference she said: “This isn’t going to change.”
After my furious state in front of the police and State security forces, when they tried to prevent my play “Enemies of the People” from making its debut (I say “tried” because, in spite of the pain it caused to have to bid farewell to all my guests, the play was performed for the only two people who had managed to enter), everyone is advising me to calm down…
While watching the images of the latest wave of repression to befall independent Cuban artists , one word kept popping into my head: Shame. Arbitrary arrests, stopping people from walking down certain streets or entering certain homes reveal a lack of respect that not only exists with artists, but with citizens on the whole.
Cuban institutions have become derelict buildings, where fear rules, while a select few pocket everything. The Cuban people’s reality is something like an emaciated buffet where everything is controlled, where plates come in and leave, but they can’t have access to the restaurant’s real menu.
The sound of a sledgehammer banging on the walls, the ceiling of a house adjoined to my building, located at No. 851 13th Street between 4th and 6th streets, in Vedado, has been eating away at my nerves for some weeks now.