As part of MASP’s Sala de Vídeo at MASP, the film Para ver as meninas e nada mais nos braços (2024) creates a space of both celebration and resistance, pushing against the religious and colonial boundaries of cinema. In a baroque yet futuristic room, travestis characters dance, prophesy, and celebrate marginalized lives, envisioning a future of collective freedom.
Ventura Profana, A maior obra de saneamento [The greatest sanitation work], 2024 (still). Courtesy of the artist.
Ventura Profana, Procure Vir Antes do Inverno [Try to Come Before Winter], 2021 (still). Courtesy of the artist.
let us begin with a speculative exercise: if you could step into a film as if diving into a river, what images would greet you when you opened your eyes? a spell, a celebration, or a lively party—these are the settings conjured by Para ver as meninas e nada mais nos braços (2024), by Ventura Profana. the film was featured as part of the Sala de Vídeo installation, exhibited in the winter of 2024 at MASP in São Paulo, Brazil. three giant screens displayed A maior obra de saneamento (2024), O poder da trava que ora (2021), and Procure vir antes do inverno (2021) in a large room layered with rugs, cushions, and tatami mats. in the far right corner, a small, vintage TV with an attached headset played Para ver as meninas. engaging with that small vessel of secrets demanded a deeper level of commitment. perhaps Profana was experimenting with faith—or the visitors’ temptation. surrender and curiosity, after all, have always been the foundations of her liturgy
Ventura Profana, Para ver as meninas e nada mais nos braços [To see the girls and nothing more in the arms], 2024 (still). Courtesy of the artist.
the film opens with a cascade of photographs, flowing from faded family albums to portraits of travestis from a time that, despite its contradictions, might be called contemporary. these images unfold to the sound of a free jazz organ, voicing beautiful melodies. here, Sir Lucas’s soundtrack becomes a key, granting us access into hidden rooms, within this celebration. these dark faces Profana summons embody the warmth of life itself—the candle, a flickering wish; the sun, a prophecy of new renewal. “dancing toward the end of perpetual condemnation. rejoice with us. celebrate them, ye all who love them. be filled with joy for us, ye all who have wept for us. we are suckling and satisfying ourselves at the breasts of our balms.” Profana’s words echo what is obvious, yet unspoken: we are the celebration itself. oh, hell yeah!. this celebration, however, is a prayer—not just as a way to question religious spaces as institutions that continually reenact anti-Black and anti-trans violence in the name of the Lord, but because the spirit of Deise is a crucial spiritual weapon for Profana. this is why most churches, when they aren’t boring, are simply sad. to worship Deise*, then, is to smile. Deise understands that the dazzling moments when of moments chaos they create are actually prayers to the infinite. perhaps, in those moments, they are the ones possessed by Deise’s holy spirit. Profana’s cinematic brilliance exceeds the very bounds of cinema, for her images serve as the work of a healer, cleansing the miasma from our hearts
and how fortunate it is that this prayer has become memory, allowing us to return and learn the courage to pray our own party. in Para ver as meninas, Ventura Profana creates a fleeting moment of freedom: “that’s right, my sisters, i want us to go wild, laugh a lot, and feel immense pleasure.” in that instant, it becomes clear how her art transcends the colonial boundaries of cinema—because the path to freedom is forged in the slow burn of prophecy. that’s why one could never simply call this a film; it is the magic of an elder performing miracles.“ten minds just like yours. nine rogue queens in uproars. eight days of wild craze. seven plagues in your ass. seven raw leather bags. five hot sauce drags. four fulegenta women. three sad watchers bothering. two travestis crying loud. and one noisy house.” “oh happy day. oh happy day. i will kiss. i shall kiss. tomorrow i will kiss.” here lies the moment of freedom, the song ignites prophecies. in the phonetic substance of deep, unrelenting, desire, Ventura Profana exhales a collective sigh—a breath of a people still in gestation. a fleeting moment of celebration of our impossible lives can only be born from fire, and this is not merely the archetype of madness; it is the embodiment of courage. that is why they drink—toasting to the abundant life already proclaimed in this very celebration, for thirst, too, is a longing for the flame of joy
Ventura Profana, O Poder da Trava que Ora [The Power of the Praying Trans Woman], 2021 (still). Photo: Igor Furtado. Courtesy of the artist.
in the phonetic substance of deep, unrelenting, desire, Ventura Profana exhales a collective sigh—a breath of a people still in gestation.
Cassie Capeta, Bianca Kalutor, Williane Jacob, and Rainha F, alongside Ventura Profana, embark on a breathtaking journey of memory and imagination in this film. set in a vast pink, white, and red room, filled with baroque yet futuristic furniture, they appear in long evening gowns – like princesses or dolls – dancing in slow motion to a sound that blends 1980s pop and post-punk, while the camera alternates between zooming in and pulling away. though these movements might suggest a journey to the future, they are more importantly a lesson in learning to smile (at) the past. in the background, the camera continuously highlights their faces, contorted in prophetic visions. these images carry such a powerful prayer of protection that i feel as though i am experiencing them for the first time. they are 15-year-old girls at their debutante ball, 7-year-old girls celebrating a birthday, renowned artist friends rejoicing over an award, sisters reuniting after decades, little princesses doing as they please, warriors celebrating their greatest victory, young orixás playing at being free until they burst out laughing. let us pause to consider Brazil’s geopolitical position within the global campaign of anti-trans, anti-Black, and anti-Indigenous violence. from this perspective, we can begin to glimpse the bridges leading to the dream party Profana envisions in this work—bridges already being built by the prophetic arrow of memory
it is fascinating to witness the tender way Ventura Profana caresses courage and freedom. yet one of the most powerful forces in her work is how she reminds us that to pray is to act—calling us to sow the joys of a future that is already unfolding in the present
abigail Campos Leal (b. 1988, Campos dos Goytacazes) is a cosmic curve, moving across Art and Philosophy to create poetics that allow us both to dismantle the world as we know it and to reinvent radically new ways of inhabiting the infinite. abigail holds a PhD in Philosophy from PUC-SP and teaches in the Humanities and Decolonial Thought specialization program at the same institution. Author of ex/orbitâncias: os caminhos da deserção de gênero (GLAC, SP, 2021) and Textes à lire à voix haute (Brook, Paris, 2022), abigail has performed and exhibited in various institutions across the Americas and Europe.
Ventura Profana (b. 1993, Salvador, Bahia) is a multidisciplinary artist who identifies as a travesti. Influenced by spirituality in both her personal and artistic journey, her practice encompasses music, performance, visual arts, and writing.
Translator: Jess Oliveira
* Editor’s note: This term refers to a comprehension of God as a form of femininity.
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