166

PARADIES
Ich gehe, du stehst, es spricht ein Chor durch lange Reden und schwebende Vokale, mikrotonal geschichtet, Bruststimme mit Hand aufs Herz, weil Stimme ist Körper ist Raum. Als wir noch silbern waren im Transit, wollten wir den Boden mit den Füßen taufen, denn das Paradies ist ein neuer Himmel und eine neue Erde. Wir folgen blind und hören zu: ein Text prozessiert uns ins Dunkel hinein und wieder hinaus — Alarm schlägt alles, was sich sichtbar macht, den Mund aufmacht, sich selbst erzählt, sich abliest vom Papier. Im Agens das Geheimnis.

Nach Video-Eindrücken von Claudia Bosses ›the last IDEAL PARADISE‹

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165

PLUCKED

Ravel began when he appropriated the slow-tempoed Latin American genre, bolero, and
Lewis plucked it from the French canon, from Béjart too, to turn it into something fiercer. But it is never spoken about, because it is clearly, obviously, known, and in its eminence she let strength and fragility go to bed together. Committed, spent and on the count, to dance. Indeed, on this empty stage shared with two others, and the many within, there is so much at stake yet all they are doing is being, dancing, wearing clothes, seeing us watch. It’s not even that big a deal — I wandered to every thing that happened before and after this, in the grandness of all things, minor matter.

Springing from a live impression of ›minor matter‹ by Ligia Lewis

164

GLIB POSSIBILITIES
An obsession with authenticity, a desire to dig up the truth, supposing there is such a thing, and a righteous streak. The possibility of sinking sharp teeth into historical forms and saying mine, too. An earnest conversation through earnest words OR an earnest conversation through glib words OR a glib conversation through earnest words.
A belief that bodies will still matter. Disassembling.

Springing from video impression of ›Princess‹ by Eisa Jocson, ›Situation
mit Doppelgänger‹ by HAUPTAKTION, ›The Way You Look (at me) Tonight‹
by Claire Cunningham/ Jess Curtis and ›minor matter‹ by Ligia Lewis

163

PRINCESSES
Two princess dresses, two competing doppelgangers, two sets of crutches — two bodies
can make many things. For instance, two bodies, contra the individual (always staggeringly vulnerable in her unique absurdities), can look like a tribe, powerful enough to bring their metaphysical reality to bear on ours. And once it is established what there is and what there isn’t, two can look like a comparative analysis, with bodies, histories, and choices held up next to one another, flipped over and over again like cards, comforting us in thiswash of chance, or slamming us relentlessly with the fact of itself. And if two see that they are two, then this can look like a conversation, and indeed it can sometimes make one, between bodies, worlds, generations, audience and player, between the voices in one’shead. Looking back.

Springing from a video impression of ›Princess‹ by Eisa Jocson,
›Situation mit Doppelgänger‹ by HAUPTAKTION, ›The Way You Look (at me)
Tonight‹ by Claire Cunningham/Jess Curtis

162

A POEM FOR THE POROUS

The skin that envelopes us, that wraps itself across the landscape of the body and restrains our pink and mushy interior from spilling out. Elastic, its boundaries are less than comfortable, as we are wrenched from the warm, dark folds of the womb into the hard light of the exterior world, and forced to touch and feel and meet the heat and the cold. The perimeters delineated by our pigment, the frontier to the edges of our existence, dark or light, cells clustering together in colonies much like we (me) do in our WGs. What division between bodies can we make when the choice to divide was never ours?

Springing from a video impression of ›Situation mit Doppelgänger‹ by HAUPTAKTION

161

PULSE

Emerging from the darkness, these bodies, so still. The pulse that drives the pelvis, the same pulse that fills those cramped dark spaces with countless bodies swaying together to the rhythms of the hours, the night made up of sweaty, endless hours.
Limbs, undirected, a sideward glance —
The pulse that throbs, joined by primal palpitations to rid the singular, the individual, the
detailed being of all its details. The same pulse that seeps from the centre to the edges of
the darkened room, gradually un-turning the cogs of this social machine.

Springing from video impressions of ›Momentum‹ by CocoonDance Company

160

Christina Ciupke und Jasna L. Vinovrški: Now and Then. 20.02.2018, Tanzfabrik, Berlin.

Detailverliebt projizieren zwei Stimmen aus dem Off Fotos von großen Ausdruckstänzern*innen in unsere Köpfe, bis das Rechteck aus (gefühlten) 1000 Seiten Blankopapier vollendet ist. Die unbeschriebenen Blätter liegen dicht an dicht, stehen mal für sich und mal als Ganzes. Archivarbeit ist Mosaikarbeit; ist Sisyphusarbeit, stets das Gefühl, „160“ weiterlesen