Choreographer María del Mar Suárez La Chachi and singer Lola Dolores show us that flamenco is not a fixed tradition but a living, boundless art. Full of attitude, raw nerve, and warmth.

Two women sit on chairs facing the audience, dressed in tracksuits. They roll cigarettes, eat sunflower seeds, and let their gaze drift across the room. Then, without warning, they take hold of the taranto; one of flamenco's most bare and rhythmic styles. A singing form with roots in the mining areas of Almería, born out of the need to express oneself without rules, without accompaniment—a lament sung straight from the chest.

In Taranto Aleatorio, tradition becomes something entirely new. La Chachi and Dolores stick to the classic structure of taranto but use it as a springboard for an explosive experiment. Where randomness choreographs. No props. No scenery. No classical storytelling.

Everything is carried by the two women on stage: their voices, bodies, and the unique interaction between them. Dolores sings with a power that jolts the spine, while La Chachi lets her body speak with precise, physical language. Hand movements, rhythmic stomping, small shifts—all in dialogue with the singing, the space, and the audience.

The performance breaks down the divide between stage and audience, making it feel as if we are with them in a worn, smoky tavern, where flamenco is not just performed but emerges and lives.

Taranto Aleatorio will have its Norwegian premiere during this year's CODA festival, offering a raw, intense, humorous, and perhaps somewhat unexpected experience. Small gestures, spontaneous reactions, humorous glances; all part of an irregular dance that is also deeply structured.

You don't have to love flamenco to be touched. Taranto Aleatorio is a reminder of what performance art can be when it dares to relinquish control. When artists dare to trust their own presence, intuition—and their relationship with the audience.