Four people enter and undress, stand nude, face each other and begin. Each couple dance as close as fucking, their nakedness speaking frankly; pushing, pulling, arms, legs torsos no longer split up by words or society’s constructs. There’s a visceral joy in the leaping of bodies tumbling and falling into each other with such repetitive thrust; each movement living all variables before letting itself move on. There’s no artifice of finely constructed choreography here and it’s startlingly fresh. Finally the dancers break apart, dancing their half-remembered duets alone before lying down drenched in breath and sweat. At the end each one stands and dresses. They look at us as we look back. And we all know that something extraordinary has happened here, look at the hyperlink to see more.
Clement Danzin. Bruit de couloir
Clement Dazin’s Bruit de couloir is about near death – not the final darkness, but the heightened, crystalline moments people might experience just before. Dazin moves in liquid lines – slow-motion, scalpel-speed – all the while juggling. Small illuminated balls glow white within a cavernous darkness, while his extremities are picked out in splices by Freddy Bonneau’s lighting design; his performance is further enhanced by Gregory Adoir’s mysterious, multi-layered sound score. It’s a beautiful shock to see this much skill pushing what is possible within the form. By the end I wished that of all those I love/d were sitting all around me, sharing in this shadowy wonderland of melted time and moments so fully lived.
Ramona Nahabczynski, Poland. New (Dis)Order. Trio In this pumping homage to rock music and friendship one man and two women set out to share with us the music they love via an ever-pulsating sway of hips, torsos and heads, hair flying out horizontally to the beat until they themselves become it. Honest and strangely vulnerable, dancing out front,and unadorned by steps, their camaraderie is evident both in their play-fighting and in the dance’s last passage, where they hold onto each other by hands or fistfuls of clothes. Flailing, falling, running, never letting go,no matter what, no matter how dangerous. And it is dangerous. They’ve given everything. To each other and to us. To my surprise I notice that I’m crying.
Harry Koushos, Greece. Man 11 – duet One man stands almost naked in a small arena formed by four neon lights. He begins to move; sliding and shifting through different planes, negotiating the space and himself within it. HIs body almost waxy in the dimmed lights is unadorned, trying to find a sense of the self; of belonging; a place of clear conscience. Suddenly from behind, an almost identical man appears in a deep yellow national costume, crushing him like some spidery mythological force. The neon lights are being pulled into a path and the original dancer now wearing traditional costume too begins the slow walk of no choice. In this search for truth, both political and personal, there’s great integrity. it matters immensely to him and so to us as well.
Elle Sofe Improvisation
A woman enters dressed in modern black clothes and traditional molekskin shoes;lies down on fake grass and becomes the land. Wind, bells and voices fill the air. In her undulations, is a sense of the ancient; in her momentum, the mythological. With her hair hanging down around her and her breathing like a lost yeti, her eyes remain unafraid. She is joined by a another woman singing mesmerising Sami songs in this perfectly paced and considered short work. Accompanying them both by now are the audience tapping cushions. This circle all connected and transported within five short minutes. Some people do not get a cushion and look bereft. How simple the action to make us all feel as one. Loved it.