We enter the space like someone going camping at night, with our torches shining in front of us, the only light that illuminates the stage. Formed by as many beams as there are perspectives, what we see (alone or working together) is and always will be partial. 

Once we’ve grown used to this way of seeing things, a campsite appears before us. This too is partial, done by halves, with a couple of folding seats, perhaps a little gas stove, and in the middle of all that, an original 1970s Apache camper van. “Not the best or the worst, but the first!”

A theatre show with objects, Interior Noche uses the countryside as its setting to make impossible patterns out of timeframes. It’s a mixture, among other things, of stage time (the performance takes whatever time it needs, and is structured into different scenes and plastic images that are designed to match the pace) and social time (for example, with references to the space that we relate to vacations, with the action of ‘letting time pass’). 

Defending contemplation as an act of political resistance, Serrucho offers us a practical workshop on slow observation, and a dramaturgy made up of visual gags and situations that expose the absurd obsession with efficiency of such a hysterical capitalism as our own. The high-tech world of contemporary glamping here becomes a well of paradigmatic and often hilarious examples of how the system has invaded almost every aspect of our lives in order to serve our interests. Another kind of time comes into play, namely that which is gold, money and privilege.  

Set in a living, surreal and constantly-changing landscape, Interior Noche sublimes the ‘Quechua’ world by means of an intentionally tacky, analogue aesthetic, getting objects designed from the mantra of efficiency to end up wasting our time. Celebrating inefficiency as the re-conquest of a lost time, what we are lighting up with our torches could become a kind of mirror and get us smiling at our own misfortune.