Wind is a fiction that lies in the perception of the viewers in a still space. It renders the space with a different gaze, tapping into the imagination of the mind. In the wind, the absent bodies in the space become visible, whispering vanished voices from the past, buried under the storms of history. They remind us of stories fallen in the liminal spaces of oblivion, of the journeys they have made, in order not to repeat the tragedies of humanity.
We worked meticulously with the notion of absence – what are they in the space, and how can we frame them with the present bodies, in order to bring them temporarily into the here and now – a different reality than the common conventions that we could create on stage. We dance scores of a duet in a solo with an absent partner; we dance scores derived from folk dances in a circle full of absent partners. Over time, we start to see and perceive the figures from the past on stage. All of a sudden, they are everywhere.
The beauty and melancholy of the past presences dwell in their fragile temporality. The fact that they only live through the duration of the piece renders them precious and vulnerable, like shiny flickers in deep water. Thankfully, voices echo somewhat longer in space than the shadows of movements. Voices breathe life into the ghosts and imbue them with invisible shapes. They wake up in the scores and stay to share a dance with us. Be friends with them! They have stories to tell that have been silenced for long in the loud storms of the past. They bring us into a gap apart from the world we are used to, and take us to see.
A scenography without a scenography - as the spaces live in the imagination of the dwellers, where the presences of the past and future would meet. Atmospheres in space invoke ancient and recent memories of spaces in the individual minds, of deserts, oceans, metropolises, subways, theaters, one’s own rooms, and, of course, other dances. Will we meet in a collective place in our individual imaginations? Where are these places going to be?
THIS IS STILL A TEMPORARY SITE.