Artists

Laying the ground

Forests and fields have become collaborators by providing a scenery for a creative process. There has been no time and no reason to question the functionality of the uneven, frozen and wet ground as a substitute for a silky, smooth, wooden floor. In fact, the ground has become a more intimate friend than any studio floor before. When working outside I need to generate movement continuously in order to stay warm. Unprecedented inner landscapes take form.

I go for long walks during the moment in the evening when it is going from light to dark. Patience to participate attentively in the slow, inevitable change generates a reassuring reminder of continuity. I just carry on. Images and visions arrive somehow out of the blue, unavoidably and tenderly. 

In darkness the forest becomes more vocal. Birds sing louder and they fly closer so that you can often even feel them.

 

 

 

Curfew

 

I can hear the sound of mangoes falling from trees, like rocks shattering against concrete. Geckoes, frogs, crickets and birds chirp, whistle and whine 360 degree through the walls from the peripheries, where I can’t reach with my eyes. Dogs are barking the night sky. It is time for a night curfew, l try to write in my room. The house is filled with thoughts. The fan moves in an endless pendulum that rotates the whirring sound night and day, blowing a little wind on my bare skin. All these papers piled around me, full of my handwriting. In my imagination, I can see the content of them manifesting as moving bodies. I am facing a new challenge to communicate the work out, doing it online, being part of a virtual experience. And then questions, which I am interested in the creation process, occur to me. What about the direct intersubjective experience between the performer and the viewer? How can we trigger kinesthetic experiences, emotions, sensations and imagination reciprocally into the space, where they overlap, what we call connection? How am I dealing with the “in and out” -relationship in this specific moment? How does it impact our physicality, if we don’t break from the cocoon? The whole process of creation in these circumstances makes me think of our evolution and where we are going. A metamorphosis is taking a new direction. The wings are made from electromagnetic radiation and boredom is filled with online saturated images, each experience takes approximately a minute and Google teaches us about empathy, only having to type it. I contemplate on the ability to transform the form. I move at a very slow pace, attentively, in the presence, idling with dignity, aware of every step, softly and fierceless, gracefully, like a lion I could imagine moving.

Home Residency

How can I reconnect dance to other art forms and practices. How can I find a link between my body and movement research, and other visual researches. I’ll use this time at home to produce new material and start developing new ways to share my artistic research. Reflecting about the connection between different practices and how I can put them together.

Simplicity research

The symbol of Simplicity

One of the first inspirations towards my choreography.
Analysed and transformed into tools for improvisation and movement research.

 

MINT to be…

As a colour it looks cold and embodies something sterile and clean, and on the other hand it sprays happiness.
Regarding the taste…it is sweet and refreshing but with high concentration it gets spicy.
These opposites are building a unity which helped me finding a precised but still experimental body language.
So what happens if you suck a peppermint?

starting point

in her humble home
she moves
keeping things whole.

image from the book of Kali by Seema Mohanty

In the picture: Lauri
Picture by: Alica and Claudia

Coming in on the waves

 

audio: Lauren Fitzgerald, Plage des Corsaires, Anglet
painting: Adolph Hirémy-Hirschl, The Birth of Venus