“A love for everything torments me,” wrote Miguel Hernández. And it is that love seems to inspire playwrights Pep Tosar and Evelyn Arévalo, who have set out to revive the life and work of the poet widely revered as “the poet of the people”.
The Teatre del Raval hosts this new production which, following in the footsteps of earlier projects on Blai Bonet, Damià Huguet, Guillem d’Efak, Lorca, and Pessoa, delivers a multidisciplinary staging where theatre, music, dance, and audiovisual arts converge to tell the story of one of the most beloved figures of early 20th-century Spanish literature.
In the theatre’s bar, accompanied by the gentle patter of rain in the background, I sat down with Pep Tosar and Evelyn Arévalo to discover more about the show and what drew them to retrieve the voice of the humble poet.
— Why Miguel Hernández, and why now?
— Evelyn Arévalo: Miguel Hernández, like so many classics, is always an enticing draw, but I believe we are living through an especially poignant moment to reclaim him. It is a period where we can trace echoes of the past directly into our present; he reminds us of the imperative to resist and, above all, to remain conscious of what it means to be a person with rights. He bore the brutal brunt of fascism firsthand.
During the press conference, we reflected on how Miguel Hernández belonged to the generation following the Generation of ’27. With all that was achieved during the Second Republic, he was born into a world brimming with hope. Those of us born in the 1980s experienced something very similar: we remember an era when it felt as though anything was possible, shaped by a promise of a prosperous, equitable future that was suddenly cut short.
Today we are witnessing the erosion of the welfare state. Beyond the historical figure and his compelling persona, Miguel Hernández serves as an extraordinary mirror through which to examine our present.
— Pep Tosar: Moreover, much is made today about younger generations leaning towards right-wing or far-right politics. We must remember that Miguel Hernández died at just 31; he was remarkably young. Today's youth ought to find a direct affinity with him, discovering answers in his life that contemporary politics perhaps fails to provide.
— Why did you choose Vientos del Pueblo as the title for the production?
— P. T.: Viento del pueblo is the title of the collection and also the name of its opening poem. We chose this title to draw attention to the need for these “winds”: I do not know whether any genuine winds of the people blow today to spark such poetry, but they are sorely missed. As a concept, it is lyrical and metaphorical. It is also among the poet’s best-known, most emblematic works – the crowning achievement of his oeuvre, where his essence emerges with the greatest depth.
— This collection belongs to his period of war poetry, his “poetry of urgency”. Did you focus specifically on this chapter?
— E. A.: Yes, it covers a decisive chapter of his brief life: the outbreak of the war, the unfolding conflict, and his eventual death, which came right at the end of or just after the war. It is a pivotal moment because he had already written El rayo que no cesa; he was already an established poet with a singular voice and verse of exceptional quality. He placed all of that wisdom, talent, and craft at the service of the struggle, defending a world that the Francoist coup was bent on destroying. He served on the front line, worked as a journalist, and even travelled to Russia on a cultural delegation.
Yet his poetry from this period is not merely combative: it is poetry written in the midst of war. Vientos del Pueblo specifically is descriptive rather than purely militant; above all, it is a poem championing human dignity.
— What weight does poetry carry in society today? Can it truly stir consciences or “change” the world?
— P. T.: Poetry is far more than the verses of a sonnet; poetic force resides everywhere. Waking in the morning to an open sky above us, or falling asleep and dreaming astonishing things – that is pure, everyday poetry. The mere act of being alive is poetic. As Pessoa noted, there is poetry in a teacup or in ambient noise; the key is putting on the lens of poetry and leaning on it like a walking stick to keep moving forward.
— E. A.: We have clearly failed to transform the world in its entirety over all these centuries, yet we can certainly transform individual “worlds”. Poetry can stir consciences and prompt someone to reconnect with themselves, with others, and with their environment. No true artist or creator should fall into the vanity of believing their work will turn the world on its head, but saving lives in a metaphorical sense remains well within art’s reach.
Poetry is far more than the verses of a sonnet; poetic force resides everywhere.
— This is not your first production exploring the lives of great poets (such as Damià Huguet or Blai Bonet). Is your mission to rescue them from obscurity?
— P. T.: When we staged our first piece (Esquena de ganivet, about Damià Huguet), many people asked whether my aim was to rescue the poet from obscurity. If only it were that simple! Bringing a writer out of obscurity does not rest on the shoulders of a theatre company alone, even if we can contribute a small part.
These are not merely “poetic recitals”; they are full-blooded theatrical works with an identity of their own. A piece that lacks poetic power or the capacity to move an audience scarcely deserves to be called theatre. Poetry is the instrument that makes the invisible visible: when you summon an audience and the curtain goes up, if the story lacks poetic resonance, interest quickly wanes.
Poetry is the instrument that makes the invisible visible.
— Recounting the life of Miguel Hernández has been described as an “adventure”. Why?
— P. T.: We are thrilled with how these productions have turned out, but every time we embark on a new one, our hearts are in our mouths. The pitfalls are endless, and you cannot afford to stumble. Moreover, you rarely have as much time as you would like. That is why you must be crystal clear about your objective – what you want to reveal about the poet – and hit the mark squarely.
— How is the cast assembled, and what led you to choose the vocabulary of contemporary dance with Andrés Corchero?
— P. T.: On stage there are three musicians, a dancer, and two actors. We opted for contemporary dance because of its capacity for abstraction. Abstraction grants the freedom and elasticity needed to catalyse the dramaturgical narrative and convey it to the spectator in a far more malleable way.
— E. A.: What is more, from the very outset we had Andrés Corchero in mind. He shares an essence remarkably close to that of Miguel Hernández: he is earth and spirit all at once. In our cultural landscape, he is one of the very few dancers with such an established mastery of this idiom. It is a genuine pleasure to take the texts and watch his dance respond to them.
— P. T.: The production was conceived specifically for Andrés Corchero and Carles Dénia, who are two entirely singular artists. Carles spent eight years studying jazz in the Netherlands, yet family heritage roots him deeply in traditional music. He has a foot in both worlds: crafting melodies drawn from folk and regional traditions arranged with jazz harmonies, driven by an explosive vocal delivery.
— Do you have other writers lined up for the future?
— P. T.: Absolutely, we have quite a few on our list! We have a female author in the pipeline whose name we cannot yet disclose, and further down the line we would love to tackle figures such as Ángel Vázquez, Jorge Luis Borges, or Pier Paolo Pasolini.
— To conclude, how would you define Vientos del Pueblo?
— E. A.: At its core, it is a multidisciplinary, thoroughly hybrid work. It weaves together acting, live music, dance, visual projections, and a substantial documentary strand built around recorded interviews.
— It is a layered dramaturgical piece that gives rise to a dynamic, enriching, and distinctive theatrical experience. It carries a narrative dimension recounting a true story, an emotional and sensory core, and a reflective component that invites dialogue and rational inquiry. The interplay of all these elements makes the piece profoundly compelling. Running for an hour and a half, it flows seamlessly and is an absolute pleasure to experience.