Gabi Flares is Brazilian actress, dancer, clown, and writer based in London. She holds an MFA in Creative Practice from Trinity Laban Conservatoire of Music and Dance (London), a BA in Acting from UniverCidade (Rio de Janeiro), and trained at École Philippe Gaulier. In 2024 she brought her one-woman production to the Fringe, and it’s returning for 2026. We spoke to Gabi about the show, how touring in the last two years has led to her changing its structure, and the best and worst things about the Fringe.

Can you tell us about Deluge?

Of course, right. So deluge, I would say it’s a multimedia theater/ comedy/ physical theater show which is about a woman who is going through a breakup and to understand her grieving process, she brings up all these people’s stories, which are real stories that I have [gathered from interviews with] more than 40 people.

This woman is trying to understand what girief is and what’s going on, and she brings up all those real stories to understand her own journey. The whole show is about her being in a house that is about to flood. It’s a magical, realistic, surreal piece.

What inspired the play, and how did you piece it together from the various interviews? What was your creative process?

It’s my second one-woman show which I’ve worked with interviews, so I had an idea in my head of a true breakup that I went through, but it’s a it’s a wholly fictional thing.

I was thinking about grief. What is grief? Am I grieving? My whole thing came from the process of understanding that I wasn’t aware that I was grieving something, because I was grieving what had never happened. And then I start to understand that actually, grief is not just about someone who died, is not just about things that happen and you lose [them]. It’s also about the expectations we have and some things that never become real as well. You can also grieve something that you wanted but you’ve never had, and that was the main thing.

I put a call out on the internet and, surprisingly, I got loads of people getting in touch. And my call out was, ‘Does anyone have any story to share about a grieving process you’ve been through, or about something that you truly wanted but you’ve never had, or any kind of different relationship you have with grief?’ And then I got all those people that came to talk to me, and it was supposed to be like a 30 minutes conversation, but it turns out to be a two hour chat. And I think this is something that I I enjoy a lot. I don’t know if it’s because my mum is a psychoanalyst, so I grew up listening to all the people, and I love listening to deep emotions and what people are going through.

It became a very warm space that I was holding for people to share those stories and that was really lovely. And from those real stories, from my starting point, there was also one specific thing that happened. One day, I was talking to a friend about what happened to me, and I said, ‘If I could count all my thoughts in liters, and I add to this all that I have cried, I could flood a house.’ And this is the main thing of the story. This woman is going through this process in which her tears and her thoughts are liters that are possibly flooding the house. And this came automatically when I said that thing to my friend long time ago. I was like, ‘Oh, that’s going to become a show.’

You’ve described it as a magical realist journey through the grieving process. Is there something specific to Latin American culture that drives creative people down the magical or surreal path like Allende, Marquez, Borges? It seems to be something that’s very, very common in how Latin American people express themselves artistically.

I think this is so interesting you bringing it up because, yeah, the magical realist is a genre that came from Latin America, and sometimes I actually avoid using this word because not everyone gets it. So I use ‘surreal’.

Considering Latin America and this genre, I think there is something about… if we think about the intensity, that maybe Latin Americans can have kind of more intensity, and [express more] what they are feeling; maybe more with actions and gestures. We cry and we hold less [back], let’s say. I think the magical realism gives space for this expression to be big, to be something else; be transposed into an image which is surreal. So it’s not about just talking, but it’s about saying what you were feeling. But it’s about maybe putting images in spaces that are exaggerated, but at the same time don’t look overwhelming because they are displaced, because they are a bit different; transposed into something that is not what it is. It’s not the real reference.

Do you have any particular influences on you as a performer? Your approach in Deluge encompasses a wide range of styles.

I would say it’s a clown-ish show. I come from a clowning background as well, and it’s not [just] a clown show, but I think there’s the clown energy there and the openness in the way I would approach comedy in the show.

It’s hard when I say physical theatre, because sometimes when I say physical theatre, people think there is no text, or it’s just gestures and things. So I would say it’s more like dance theater, because the movement is not just actions; it’s abstract, it’s poetic. I like the poetry of the movement together with the text. So my whole thing is, like the character speaks throughout the show at the same time [as the movement].

You had a successful fringe run with the play in 2024. What’s brought you back this year?

I always find it nice to go back for a second run, maybe for a half run. I wanted to go back last year, but it maybe wasn’t the right time. I think everything happens in the right time.

It is nice because the show has a journey. I am someone who makes a work, and I change my work quite a lot during the journey, because we have the contact with the audience. I feel Deluge 2024 is a different show  to that I’m bringing now. I did a little tour, and I went to Oxford, to Manchester, to Norway, and I did Soho Theatre in 2025, and I think the show transformed so much that I really felt like it would be a right thing to bring it back again. So I would say, even for people who already seen it, I’d say it is very different.

In what ways have you revised it? Have you drawn on different aspects of the interviews? Or have you changed the the structure?

I think I changed it a little bit. It’s hard to say. I think the structure in itself changed. And the character got all the colours. And I think the tone of the show also changed in general. I approach the comedy in different ways. I think I was getting more into that, the comedic aspect of it as well.

That always interests me how a piece of work can sort of change and adapt. 

I think because by [performing to] the audience, I was feeling like, ‘Oh, there’s so much room to play with the audience!’ But I was feeling like I was constrained in the in the theatre structure. And I think I would say what changed is that I open more room to be with the audience. It’s not that it is audience participation, but I open the room to be more playful and together with the audience.

What for you are the best and the worst things about the Fringe?

I think let’s start with the worst, because then we get to the good part! I think the worst is that you always know that you’re gonna get really tired, but you you always think, ‘No. I can manage, I can manage.’ But there is a point I get really, really exhausted. And I think that’s the worst part, because it’s beyond my level of existence, but you carry on living. So I think this is the worst thing.

Another worst thing is sometimes I’m not sleeping really well in the Fringe. It’s another worst thing, because I want to watch things, I want to see my friends, and then, ‘Wow, it’s good!’ But then you get overstimulated, and then sleeping is [hard] so my health is the worst part in the Fringe.

Also, I think there are so many different people and opinions and things. And I think the worst thing is to attach yourself, to listen to everyone and to get stimulated by what everyone talks about. I think it’s the worst thing not to be centered and trust yourself.

And I think the best part of the Fringe is being with your friends. It’s meeting new people. It’s all the people you share different stories [with], and being inspired by amazing artists. I always enjoy so much watching things, even when I’m working and doing a show. And I think this is the best thing.

Do you have any other projects in the pipeline that you can tell us about?

So far, Deluge is going on a tour for this year. I’m doing Brighton, Prague, and then Isle of Wight, and then I’m going to Gothenburg and Oslo and Istanbul so far this year, and maybe bringing it to Brazil in October. So that’s a plan. And at the moment I am already cooking a new one woman show that I’m also rehearsing on and I’ll have a new show that is [premiering] in May now with with a company in which I am performing and collaborating in the creation, but primarily a performer.

Deluge is at Big Belly at Underbelly, Cowgate from Wed 5 to Sun 30 Aug 2026 at 15:30