The Festive Revolution of Burning City

"You have a choice: if you're alone, you're an outcast, an exception to the rule, an anomaly in this world," explains Gerardo Salinas, dramaturge at KVS. "But if you create a community of outcasts, a space with its own rules, a universe where the very characteristics that make you an outsider are celebrated, then from within that community, with a different weight, you can engage in dialogue with the larger world. Not to overthrow it, but to carve out a rightful place within a concert of identities." A fierce plea for solidarity in a time when the world seems to be on fire.

But this is no empty plea. More than just participating in the wider community, the focus is on having a real impact. "Every encounter influences people. The greater the ‘distance’ between them, the stronger their mutual impact—but the harder it is to establish that connection. That’s why it’s so powerful when radically different elements come together. The creators of BURNING CITY are making something truly exceptional."

A narrow, two-meter-wide walkway divides the audience in two. This face-to-face setup fosters a form of communication that is at times confrontational, at times voyeuristic. Interaction is key, and Junior Mthombeni, one of the driving forces behind the project, delights in disrupting theatrical conventions by giving the audience total freedom: "This is your party," feel free to shout, clap, or take selfies.

BURNING CITY is a meticulously orchestrated concert. At times, you might even forget it's a theater performance. But the rap lyrics and the cast’s performance constantly remind you: this is not a concert.

A Revolution Without Illusions

What seems absurd at first becomes logical within the universe of a specific community. The documentary PARIS IS BURNING was a key inspiration, portraying a movement born within the Afro and Latino-American LGBT+ communities of New York. They created a culture of their own—both a refuge and a tool for collective empowerment. "Within the ballroom scene, a whole logic developed: a dress code, movements, a vocabulary. It’s incredible to see how minorities, whether due to gender or ethnicity, have created something meaningful, something that has had a global impact and a powerful performative force."

We create micro-communities that reinforce a claim and a value that individuals alone cannot impose. The interaction between these groups defines the rules of the collective game. This fosters visibility, but also a sense of (self)confidence that elevates individual power to a whole new level.

BURNING CITY is part of a series of performances in which Salinas, Mthombeni, and the SOCHA collective explore the idea of community. "We don’t treat community as the end goal of a socio-artistic project, but as artistic material. To what extent can the creation of a community serve as a raw material for artistic production?" This collective work thus becomes a living material, as malleable as clay or music.

BURNING CITY is an explosive mix of funk, hip-hop, rock ’n’ roll, soul, live painting, dance, light, and absurd humor. Yet, even though celebration is at the heart of the performance, it does not mask the pain that fuels it. Behind the party, there are tragic stories, intimate wounds. But even in the darkest contexts, celebration is essential—it recharges our strength and connects us to others. We need positive stimulation, sometimes just to survive the next day.

A Modest Utopia

Echoes of other performances can be found in BURNING CITY, particularly RUMBLE IN DA JUNGLE, created over a decade ago around the legendary boxing match between Muhammad Ali and George Foreman in Zaire. These parallels reveal how the creators’ theatrical language has evolved: whereas past performances followed a sequence of autonomous acts, BURNING CITY is built on a collective foundation, where each artist is supported by their peers.

This is essential because the show’s intensity and close proximity to the audience make vulnerability central to its dramaturgy. "The performers are constantly exposed, both in their strongest and weakest moments," explains Salinas. The show plays with instinctive reflexes dictated by our reptilian brain (fight, flight, freeze), the bodily reactions to fear. "If we want to create theater for everyone—not just for traditional audiences—we have to activate and engage them. This means stepping out of our comfort zones. It’s a battle against fear."

The performance references everything from Patrice Lumumba’s speeches to the Harlem Cultural Festival, also known as Summer of Soul, where Mahalia Jackson, Stevie Wonder, and Nina Simone led a collective explosion of joy, framed by the Black Panthers. "It was a time when people still had to fight for basic rights. Community leaders were assassinated, people were lynched by racist groups whose ideological heirs are resurfacing today. In the face of horror, the response was celebration and collective empowerment. That energy resonates with all of us."

The 2019 Chilean uprisings, born out of deep social frustration, also inspired the performance. In response to brutal police repression, artists took to the streets with painted bodies, dances, and raps. A Chilean playwright transformed a teenager’s rage over a police killing into a poem about love: "Love must also mean finding the body of a missing comrade." For the creators of BURNING CITY, this performance is a tribute to collective struggles worldwide.

The word "revolution" may be overused, but for them, it remains a response to a dictatorship of fear. We are pushed into individualism, which weakens us. Building communities and seeking connection is, today, a revolutionary act.

"Each of us carries a form of human capital, a global library from which we can draw solutions to today’s problems. We’re not just talking about cities on fire, but also about a campfire, fueled by our shared stories. It’s simply a source of enrichment." A modest utopia, with dignity as its guiding principle, addressing each person on an intimate level. A utopia that claims the manifesto as an antidote to cynicism—ultimately reminding you that YOU are part of this story.