Las Fallas

Imagine this: you spend the entire year fundraising, saving up the budget for the materials to create a "falla" as well as paying an artist to design it and then, blink and you miss it, watch the whole thing burn like wildfire, your year's work turned into a cloud of ashes. This is Las Fallas, Valencia's yearly fiestas (festival of the city). 

The backdrop is this: Valencia has a tradition that dates back to medieval times, one that supposedly started with carpenters that used wooden sticks which had little importance and burned them, either symbolically or to welcome spring. These carpenters made bonfires, the bonfires began to take shapes, become more elaborate. Eventually they took clear forms and what was just a bunch of burning sticks turned into Las Fallas, a yearly project that culminates in the burning of beautiful and polemic sculptures. 

I came to Valencia to see them 2 years ago with Armelle, a few friends and my buddy Adrian who we ran into while there. It was amazing to see them then but you don't get the sense they'll be burnt when that time isn't imminent. We went on a Saturday then and they did La Cremá on a Tuesday so we totally missed the burning, something different this year as it coincided with the weekend. It was perfect timing, I'd get to see La Cremá. 

We took a bus, managed by a friend's company to get there, MadLife, and it started out well as we were a group of 12. On the bus the crazy Venezuelans that work for the company got us well liquored up for the journey, starting with cava, then wine, vodka orange and shots of tequila. By the time we got to Valencia we had a nice buzz and were revving for more. The thing with a group that large is that you've either gotta be a tight bunch or otherwise be completely on board, neither of which we were. There were distinct cliques within and so it was difficult keeping everyone together, walking just a few blocks was a nightmare as some folks decided to just veer off and buy something or stop to look at something without alerting others, it was a game of stop-n-go. 

Somehow we managed to make it to the plaza mayor but it was around this point that it became clear that different folks had different aims so we decided to split into two groups, one went to the beach (I went with them) and the others went to check out the Fallas. I figured since I'd already been I wanted to make sure I made it to the beach, that was my goal, I just wanted to be next to the sea and smell that saltwater. 

These crazy fools, 4 of them, jumped in there, I give them props for sure. I was just happy to be away from the M80's going off, the crowds and relax for a while on the shore. Living in Madrid, a 4 to 5 hour drive from any coast in any direction, makes you crave the ocean or sea and being from a coastal city like NY can make that desire stronger. Even though I knew I wouldn't get in the water it was a relief being at the beach, you don't have to be a swimmer to enjoy it. 

Just because we were at the beach doesn't mean the party stopped, however. We had Marta, our talismanic salsera, who's a party unto herself. It meant more cañas and by the time we were back on the bus heading to the city center we were dancing salsa to Cholo's boombox, a spectacle for the startled straphangers. 

We met up with the rest of the group, they'd covered a lot of ground and even climbed the bell tower of Valencia's cathedral in that time. We had paella and, you guessed it, more cañas but by 10 all that traveling, all those drinks, all the spliffs and the throbbing crowds of people were wearing on us. It was a marathon 24 hours of partying and even before it was time to get back on the bus we begging to be let back on it. We got back to Mendez Alvaro, had coffee at a local bar, breakfast at the VIPS and then were off to our warm, cozy beds for extended siestas. 

Having finally seen La Cremá I can say that there's a philosophical point to it all, I think. It's the idea that our creations, beautiful or not, will not last and I, as an artist, feel this point strongly. As an artist you take pride in creating something, you somehow trick yourself into thinking that it'll be immortal but, in reality, nothing is immortal. The pyramids will turn to sand, the Mona Lisa will become dust and our time on this planet is like a breath to a star. What's it all for? What's the point of creating then? Why do graffiti artists bomb or make an elaborate wildstyle knowing they may get buffed the next day? You create not for immortality but for the love it, to express that sentiment regardless of how long it lasts. 

The winning Falla - 2016