Artists

remembering stories

In the aggressiveness of her resistance

embracing,    embraced

an attachment that is native

more challenging than ever

she moves

in her humble home

keeping things whole

based in love and the resonance of emotion

she blunders and bumbles along

stealing fire.

 

 

Thank you Zoe and Ninette 🙂

Audio credit: Experience by Ludovico Einaudi

Lauri writting about her video shoot experience

It was difficult for me to shake off the anger between takes, and I found this process interesting. Trying to calm down the fire, but not to lose it all the way so that I could pick it up again easily. To store it somehow – but where and how?
I had to stay very still, so that I could stay in the spotlight, which felt like it made me push my facial expressions even stronger when I couldn’t use my body as much.
I also felt very vulnerable and thought a lot about threatening as an act. Am I threatening in my anger? Doesn’t one most of all want to be heard when angry?

The image I started with

Nomads

         Remix writing from three of us.

Even though I don’t know what character it is, what is it, what’s coming out from me, I cannot define its emotions, gender, history, or narration, it has already reached a certain state of being. It is definitely very alert and sensitive. It sees life in inanimate objects, that connects it to aloneness and longing for other bodies. How to survive without contact with one’s own species? 

Quick heartbeat. Hot skin. Sharp eyes. Teeth out.

Ready to jump, to bite, to scratch. To hurt, to protect.

I lose control. My instinct is talking.

Destructive lion, male lion, an abandoned king who crawls through all obstacles, not stopping for anything or anyone. The bones are grand and strong, crushing the dry trees. It leaves no marks on my lion. It empowers him. He now only hears himself, his own heart pumping, his breath is out of control, his bones pushing against the ground. The detailed awareness of the lion body has lost itself to rage, until the power runs out and the empty feeling of solitude again occupies the body. Echoe of violence runs through my blood. Feeling sleepy now. 

I feel in between being a human and a lion. Sometimes more feeling as a lion, sometimes more as a human. I feel in between dangerous and seductive. Seductive? Yes, when my eyes become sharp and the direction of my focus is directed on something specific, I can feel extremely feminine (which is a new feeling in my lion body). Suddenly I become lighter, graceful, and more precise. I go away from the image of a king to, on the contrary, sense myself as a goddess of seduction. I can feel in between wanting to devour someone/something and wanting to have sex with it.

By trying to grow my sharp teeth, I produced minimal spasms on my superior outer lips. My tongue started growing and being wetter. I stuck it out and wetted my chops. My gaze became sharper. My throat started expanding and a low sound arised. 

I consider for a moment to look for animals to hunt, but there seems to be nothing alive here, but the spiders crawling on my skin and the birds too far up to reach. 

I feel hungry, but still not angry. Angriness? Why do I relate the lion to angriness?  

I feel splitted between two emotions as a reaction to the sound of fire. The first is satisfying, settled, soft, rocking. The second feels alerting, alarming, dangerous, in the need of reacting fast.

Lying on the grass. Nothing to do. Contemplating. Enjoying the heat. Turning slightly the head in order to receive more heat on the skin. Potentially a little fly catching my intention for half a second, but at the end it’s not worth it. 

I am very much in the present moment. I feel soft and at the same time very strong. There’s elasticity, resilience and wisdom in me. 

A vulnerability and soft darkness in all that uncontrollable power.

Why would I think that my projection of human characteristics on them will make me know them, the lions?

                               

one to one

with the most epic cinematic royalty free sound, that can be found online to blow up the ambience.

Sleepy Volcanoes

https://soundcloud.com/proliere/sleepy-volcanoes

A period of introspection and silence.

This track is a work in progress reflecting my state of mind and vision of the actual period. Slow, with heavy bass grounding you under and spacey atmosphere to keep your mind floating. It is a heavy period of time but we must still walk, dance or run – even more slowly – our way in life.

( The track is a bit low volume compared to other tracks, so turn down the volume when you are done listening to it, not to blow your ears with the next track… :p Rough mix, and no mastering yet… )

Silence!

The silence is whispering.
My intuition awakes.
Slow down, pause and rise.
Slow motion, evolution,
Empty and reach the abundance.
Unlearn what you’ve learnt.
Quiet and shy clubs, sleepy volcanoes.
A subterranean groove locked in.
Locked in but growing stronger
Locked in but evolving in harmony
Harmony of all the voices together
Together choosing love but not fear.
Soon dancing together again!

iltasatu – a bedtime story

During the festival I have researched movement as survival, or movement as perseverance of being. This research process will not end here as I have understood how it is the essential core of my artistic thinking. The blog format of the festival has enabled my focus to shift strictly into development of practice instead of a development of a specific final piece. Sometimes, you might be offered just what you need.

This research has of course not happened in a vacuum, especially because the current global situation has required a fabrication and figuring through complex, difficult times for all of us. Of course I still feel it’s required to say, that my experience has been an extremely privileged and safe one. I have been conscious not to take too lightly the fact that suddenly, a global crisis opens up “a perfect” avenue for my artistic research. I have been home, physically safe and secure, creating, while many are facing existential struggles. This is not something to overlook or forget. At times lonely, creative work felt even narcissistic. There were days when I did not want to have anything to do with creativity. These feelings however, strengthened my understanding of how I would eventually like to broaden my individual process to a social one.

This already accidentally happened to an extent. During the past few months, I have started to spontaneously send my friends improvised bedtime stories through voice messages. This moment right before going to bed can be a distressing one during difficult times and I felt something comforting needs to be added to that moment. These bedtime stories surprisingly added a new layer to my practice as well and I have framed my “final video” accordingly.

I guess the wonder of a creative process is exactly the mystery of it. I am quite surprised by what came out of me. It is very different than what I imagined it would be. I am very thankful for having been a part of the festival. I am also thankful for having been able to witness the process of all the other artists from such a close, yet long, distance.

Over and out…?

it’s crazy… time went by so fast

here’s my final post for now with some highlights of my solo “EinBlick”

music: Spoonbill-Les Lilas

Caroline writting about her video shoot experience

Strange noises were coming from my throat, mouth, eyes, nose. Breathing was affecting this. Restriction, tension, and intention were very prevalent in the action for me. I’ve been having very emotional, scary, and stressful dreams lately. I went into those dreams and tried to take control. I decided how I would act and not just react.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Again and again. With every attempt; failure. A bombastic silence in the darkness. A desperate gesture to be heard, to be seen, to be in control. The palpable anguish emerges just as quickly as it leaves. It’s fleeting but unrelenting. I will not stop. I will not give up. Once more before full destruction. Impossion. Collapse. But this is not the last. I will not be silenced. Though I may fade, my fury never rests.

behind blue eyes…