As everyone knows the MAX are the awards given to the best of the Performing Arts since 1988 in our country. Authors, choreographers, costume designers, lighting designers, composers, directors … people who work hard, with enthusiasm for the show to reach the best possible to the respected public. This award is a recognition of that so often reviled profession that is the theater. The representation of the world on a stage. Theatrum Mundi. The Max Award, first cousin of the British Laurence Olivier, the Swedish O’Neill or the Gallic Molière, is the luminous object of desire for many professionals and non-professionals who aspire to be one.
I recognize that this object can become a real fetish for my unstoppable fantasizing, not with the value of vain flattery to the ego, but symbol of the materialization of a job well done, of knowing that you have been able to reach the first division, where you can afford to give your time to the art of the scene.
In these disquisitions I was a servant one morning like so many of teaching work when that little brass calf, not gold, perched ephemeral in my hands; that manzanilla sinful and frivolous fruit, in the words of its author, Joan Brossa, to look at me mockingly and solemnly at the same time. Real and buffoonish, it looked at me with a golden mask to teach me in an instant that the great things are hidden in the small ones. With the apparent randomness of great events, the false chance, because there is no such thing as chance, wanted that, without expecting it, someone would lend me for a few seconds such an admired award.
And the person who was the agent of the magical moment was my generous colleague, teacher and professor, actress, producer and theater director Hitos Hurtado, who won together with the theater company Teatro del Común in 2004 the Max Award for New Tendencies.
From here, my thanks, my admiration and respect.
