I feel younger; I used to be what I am now.
I am finding myself passing by, in time, thinking of being in. Being in. Seeing myself taking place. I’m taking place.
Is your art a place? The doing opens a room, emotions poor in. Intense feelings of sorrow, loss, confusion. The movements are loaded, fragile, uncertain, empowered.
Am I personal?
Efva spoke about her different roles in life and how places by convention inherently limits behavior, movement, communication, expression, feelings. Roles represented by three spheres: one public, one private and one for the Arts — a sort of unregulated space where borders can be tested and moved.
We are hitting each other. Not playing hitting, but hitting for real. A revolting feeling. I do not want to do this to that other body. Would it be up to me we could speak about it, like “civilized” people. I’m gradually trespassing a physical limit within. Getting used to the impact and to the response. A new agreement is shaping between us. I can take it. Hit me, but be prepared because I am going to hit you back.
What is respectful: To deny violent physical infliction as expression? Or fighting back?
It becomes clear how also this space of the Arts is fully conventionalized by ideologies, a way of being together as well as in relation to the world beyond the studio. Through the work with the three choreographers so far, each method and choreographic system has also included and enabled different levels of meeting – with our selves, one another and the audience. With Efva we have a triangular relationship to each other. Embodying given material and rhythm experiences are revealed on the floor, up front and besides each other. We meet inside the choreography as it is being made.
Avoid the neutral attitude. Be alive within.
Dance education is full of contradictions, between an erasing ideal form and discipline – and at the same time absolute euphoria of physically trespassing ones own limitations. And the whole potential of working with the body, the human being.
“Try to push the wall away.”
The big beautiful back-wall. Some thick iron screws are sticking out approximately three meters high. There used to be a “shelf” from where one could climb up and watch. Even higher up on the walls, close to the ceiling and around the room are iron loops. They were used for climbing with harnesses. Half way up the wall a gray line of concrete leaves the trace of what used to be a floor. Weld was divided in a basement and a ground floor. In the basement, left stage side, an artist was painting. On the floor above a dance studio. It was a terrible studio with low ceiling that did not allow for high jumping.
Meeting Efva, history opens up behind me.