This work is as absurd as the title and its miniatures, or, as I call them, pantomimes. In an attempt to separate me from the tie of a narrative thread or specific intentions such as the form or timbre –that make sense within a macro form reading–, which many times more than being a help they turn out to be a yoke, a hefty destabilizing load. Thus, sometimes, everything falls under its own weight, everything makes too much sense, and it has so much logic that the idea of brainstorming is even fearsome. I am not suggesting, however, my abandonment of absurdism, but a simple check from which I can learn a new strategy of playing. I have spent my short career as a composer trying to give and create a natural and comfortable ecosystem for my creative system and its results; putting myself to the test and trying to compose one (or several) piece(s) such as these pantomimes has been a long and tedious process that, at least, has an end: and you are looking at it.

The anonymous responds to the hidden, stored, and forgotten collective memory of an abandoned archive. A nameless, faceless entity from the future enters this room after countless years without any present expectations; it seeks nothing it only explores what appears to be a watertight and banished cave only to realize that the media and instruments scattered on the floor are the only way to talk with the Archive that has kept silent for so long, encountering fragmented memories of past experiences. It is a race to the anonymous memento to ultimately escape from it.

“El Archivo del Recuerdo Anónimo” (“The Archive of Anonymous Memento”) is written for the percussionist and dear friend Ana Nicolás and it’s a work based. on her interest in the figure of the anonymous in early music, often associated with the figure of the man. It is written for 18 traditional percussion instruments and tape, with a hint of theater.