Bewis de la Rosa: "I'm interested in seeking beauty and power in the everyday and austere."

PalmBeatriz del Monte was born in Madrid in 1994, but grew up in Villamayor de Santiago, a village in Cuenca. When she visits her godmother's house, she discovers the patience, love, and transformation that cooking entails. She learns popular sayings and proverbs. She sees in the clothes on the line (underwear, socks, tablecloths) the exposure of people's dirty patches, evidence of sensitivity and humanity. The ladles, pots, and any object in the domestic landscape hide a story that she tries to decipher with her musical project, Bewis de la Rosa, which released its debut album in 2023. Love more than everThis Saturday, August 30th, he will present it in Mallorca, as part of the La Luna en Vers festival, on the Molinar de Montuïri esplanade.

Where does the figure of Bewis de la Rosa come from?

— Before starting this project, I had already started the company since 2014Malditas Lagartijas, focused on physical theater and dance, with which we tour shows such as There are no jasmines without tomatoesThe Bewis de la Rosa project was born in 2020, when I decided to record myself for the first time in a more professional and musical way. I had always been involved in dance and the performing arts, but I didn't dare to take the plunge into music, which until then had remained a private sphere. In 2020, I gave myself permission to record songs, and little by little, it became my first album: Love more than ever.

What is the history of the name?

— Bewis de Rosa unites two parts of me: Bewis was my teenage nickname, which comes from Beatriz, and Rosa is a tribute to my mother. It unites childhood dreams and family roots, and was born from the need to give voice and music to the artistic expression I had previously only expressed in other ways.

Your work is full of everyday imagery: objects, customs... How do you integrate them into your creative universe?

— There are essential objects in my symbolism. For example, the wooden spoon was the first image I wanted to emerge when we recorded 'A SAL'. It represents transformation through love. The meaning comes from a simple, everyday, and familiar scene: when my godmother cooked me stews and we talked. She always used popular proverbs and sayings. For me, these are words simmered, full of love, that you absorb and transform. There are also other objects, like the underwear hanging on the line for everyone to see, that have a more poetic value: we all have dirty laundry, but exposing it makes us more human. I'm interested in finding beauty and power in the everyday and austere, in what we have at hand. It's a very Castilian-Manchegan philosophy: make do with what you have, and give it value.

How does this world reach the letters?

— I often write very intuitively. I stick with initial ideas, although I refine them later. Love more than ever It's a very visceral, almost raw album that retains much of that initial impulse. Now, my songs are more concrete, but I still write from an emotional landscape closely linked to the body. This comes from dance: what I feel, I pass through my body, and from there it takes shape. It's a way of embodying emotions and transforming them into words and music.

What role do emotions and territory play in your music?

— There are songs like "Donde Estabas" that are emotional manifestations, moving from the inside out, and others that are deeply connected to my homeland, like "Mi Tierra." And then there are songs, like "A SAL," that have a more festive energy. They don't stem so much from an identity crisis as from a celebration of origins, of the people, of the collective.

You come from the world of physical theater, stage research, and dance. Should we expect a live performance?

— They're quite theatrical. Although the songs sustain the structure, there's a lot of theater and staging between songs. I'm interested in breaking down the barrier between artist and audience, allowing everyone to dance and sing, even if they don't do it "well." I seek to horizontalize the space and create a collective communion. To recover ancient values, to share memories, grief, and love. The project proposes a connection with lost childhood, with what is essential.

Are you happy with the reception of Bewis de la Rosa's project?

— A lot. I didn't expect the project to have such a long run. We've been touring for three years, and it's grown a lot. The performing arts have a point of reciprocity: you can put your love and your need for communication into it, but if there's no recipient to accept it, the project doesn't evolve the same way. There have been many people who have embraced the project, who have made it their own, and who have given it value. And I will always be grateful for that. feedback has enabled the project to grow with coherence and meaning, and to close the communication loop.