pool
project, production Kinkaleri
in collaboration with Teatro Metastasio Stabile della Toscana - Contemporanea 05
subsidized by Ministero per i Beni e le Attivitą Culturali - Dipartimento dello Spettacolo
Regione Toscana

     
  A pool. A place with varied amusements and faultless rockings, circulation of the thought, measurement of the time and of the distance: from rim to rim. Or: a place that could be bearing a sense, the sense, of rottenness or of stale taste. More still: a place made up of trajectories and geometries, collisions that have been either looked for from edge to edge, or accidental.
A grey area, a linoleum rectangle accommodating the performance, the members of the audience only just outside, on the edge. His own place to everyone this time. A curtain, or a backcloth, as a monument and a parody, without mourning for the dead. The audience on the front and on the sides too, as far as the limit of what a decency, very human, could consider as with no dignity. Everything built for a front and opening more overlooking the back. Every rear in its place. Till two undifferentiated portions fill the eyes: my scene here on this side is in charge of the same censorship applied to the self-exposition displayed at a short distance, as soon as a threshold is crossed. I am not ashamed, hardly ever.
Bringing out the images looking for the way to hold back as everything nowadays hangs over me with definition and excitement, arranging systems of horizontal vision bringing along our own perception of the things and of the world, in the evidence of the signs: from the arrival to the exit gate (which one?). Without dispute. Without misunderstanding. With evidence. Even though the eyes of the world get crowded with continuous, unceasing, straining, unsolicited, interfering images and references. Building our own exposure and our own aesthetics from the branches of the jungle. Getting undressed and getting dressed again. Laying everything on the same dish, inside my indifferent beauty, within a duration and within the sound of a bass. If the performance exists to be watched, the performance states my condition as a congenital squint-eyed person, unable to bring into focus, distracted by each thing: My love for you will never die. So that may I never get to you. "What are you doing?" Watch me watching. Watch yourself watching. Each tragedy in its place.
  VIDEO MEDIATECA
http://www.mediatecatoscana.it/catalogo/vedi_risultati.php?t1=NAAUAF00033062
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