In time over time proliferates the film In time. from the solo I Ti. (2001)

The In time film showed two hands ‘finger-dancing’ a firmament over a table. Here, the dancing spreads to several hands, fingers over time overlapping trajectories. The piece also resumes the floor sequence from the piece my lips (from speaking) (2000), which shapes, and dynamics stands as models for the finger dance.

Both pieces deal with the concept of time as a series of space-less peak of intensities, discontinuous and yet linearly aligned. Both employ dancing as a polymorph, polyglot scripture, specifically, as an ecriture feminine on the move. Rigorous in concept, illimited in appearance. A strategy of speaking, stating minimal difference in kind. A dancing graphing leaving a ragbag of traces behind.

performed by Sophie Augot, Annika Hyvärinen, Oskar Landström, Morgane Nicol, Cilla Olsen, Kristine Slettevold
photography Jens Wazel

In time film (2001)

Rigor and haze by no means stand in opposition, quite the contrary, they are each other’s condition. At least in my understanding of dancing. Namely as research-oriented work.

Rigor in research, in qualitative terms, is a way to establish confidence in the findings of a research study. It allows the researcher to establish consistency in the methods used over time. Rigor may be defined as ‘a process of adhering absolutely to certain constraints, or the practice of maintaining strict consistency with certain predefined parameters.’ In science and research rigor means to be exact, careful, precise, and controlled. Along with that, rigor requires honesty and an unbiased approach to performing research. There is no science without rigor. No art without rigor… and haze.

Haze is a slight obscuration of the lower atmosphere, caused by fine suspended particles.
Haze also means a state of mental confusion. If someone is in a haze, they are not thinking clearly or not really noticing what is happening around them. Hazing can be a way of initiation, and to drive an animal hands-on, such as a horse from his horseback.
Mark my words, when it comes to dancing, certainly, all the above is a necessity. More so when dwelling choreography.

Rigor includes the performances very very and my lips (from speaking)

very very performers Annika Hyvärinen, Kristine Slettevold
photography Dajana Lothert
my lips (from speaking) performers Johanna Klint, Morgane Nicol
photography Jens Wazel

I say, let’s talk about points of view. About things being perceived differently, depending on where we view them from.
Let us try a parallax type of view. And take a stand for the (multiple) distance that might bring us closer.

Audiences and colleagues are invited to chat over serious issues and talk about the weather. Or just listen to the haze, tune in to its tonality.
It would be my pleasure.

Miles of thin thread (fishing line) weave across the space, one lane after the next, over and over again, until it has spun a vertical haze splitting the space in two.
Like a warp drive that bends time around a spaceship, the haze bends the room inwards and outwards. Forcing perception to curve into many directions.
Audience may try to avoid the haze, with no success. Or else take advantage of the limitation and widen its gaze.
Dancing will occur, encounters will occur, despite the haze, thanks to the haze.

Partial haze is a sound image that vibrates imperceptibly, a white noise fantasy, a place within, an intrusion, a low key tonality.

If you want to think, or dance for that matter, you better find the proper place for thinking, and dancing
Too much light might be disturbing, wide open views distracting
Personally, I prefer confined spaces, with poor sight
And white noise tonality

Then you might get on dealing with complexity, in an orderly manner
At best running things on parallel lanes
Even better if on thin threads tracing parallel lanes

All this will confine your vision
Split each thought, shred each move into pieces
I find that quite useful
To look ahead through a gap
Looking at things from a narrow interstice

Besides
What a pleasure it is to look from behind
Best of all, to get to see the thinnest thickness itself
That which runs between you and the rest of the world
Safe and reckless you may dance, and think

haze promotes the thin threading of choreography, suggesting rigor in partial sight as the graphing dancing of precisely uncharted moves

performed August 24 – 27 2022 at HAU3

haze unfolds in four sceneries:

the stillness of partial haze

the open space of conversations

the dancing of rigor

each night ends with In time over time

Blazing dancing and unstoppable music in a cohesive race, the piece loops a triple trajectory, whilst handling a hyperbolic complexity with narrow corners and sharp edges. Tuning in, falling out of tune. Recklessness and determination. Two dancers and one musician performing a both contained and untamed groove.

sharp dancing looping a circuit, double, and rerun
body coerced, reckless in rigor, thrusting a hyperbole of speed and complexity
dancers and music mirroring each other, single moves repeated over time, sameness in difference on the lose

performed by Philip Berlin and Madeleine Lindh
live music Yoann Durant
lights Thomas Zamolo
photography Dajana Lothert

Premiered as a duet in 2014, in the repertory until 2016, Omkretz has been performed in Stockholm, Växjö, Florence, Berlin, at MoMA PS1 in NY, Annenberg Center in Philadephia and Riksteatern in Hallunda. Resumed in 2019 for Danshall in the Hall in Stockholm Farsta, Omkretz became a solo, Omkretz2, then another solo, Omkretz22, performed in 2020 at Dansens Hus in Stockholm and on tour in Sweden in 2021. Here it is performed by merging the two, as a double solo, Omkretz2.22.

There she is, moving around, pondering over number of options; should she settle for a puddle or travel the field? Wait for something to rearrange the plot? Or pull out a scream and coerce a displacement? Mrawrrrr… soon enough she gets stuck in a groove, leaving the uncertain unresolved. After all, the point is that she moves, that she actually moves. And the kind of response her steps are counting on.

ragbags of moves, underwater oblivion, single images, shifting landscapes
body uncertain, caught in a loop, patterns repeated and transformed, hair dancing unleashed
at once old lady and reckless child, dancing in too many directions, continuously lost in translation

Scary solo is a playground of negativity for the optimistic restless, she who dances wherever she lands, with everything to fear and nothing to lose. Something quite scary, of course, yet harmless and rather pathetic.

by and with Cristina Caprioli
music Asher Tuil and Alessandro Cortini
photography Dajana Lothert

premiered 2020 at Weld in Stockholm

trailer

Dancing is a passion, and a nightmare, most of the time disorienting, but also grounding. Either way, dancing, or at least my dancing, never lands on its feet in a flash, rather needs to linger on the spot, and chase its own tale, looping one and the same circuit of doing. As if a proper outcome was unthinkable, as if moving-on would be unfair to the very fabric of motion. And then, the paradox of dancing, always too fast or much too slow, so unreliable, and generous, disobedient, yet compliant, insecure, exuberant, protective, suspicious, faithful, depressed… Dancing means dealing with inertia and explosivity at once. Not one or the other, it is always both. Dancing is always both, and more.

loops brings to display two different kind of dancing, one very diffused, the other overly strict, both lingering on the spot, beating around the bush. Cause and effect rearranged, high frequency, speed, stillness, control, and abandonment all at once, for the sake of catching a trajectory, whilst throwing yourself off track.

performed twice August 6 and 7 2022 at HAU2

loops performs two choreographies:

Scary solo

Omkretz2.22