|
A MONTHLY FEUILLETON (PART 9: JUNE)
By Agnieszka Ryszkiewicz
Previously on:
- Ophelia finds herself in the weird yet common position of aspiring to make her own work. This is when you come to meet her in Angers.
- I like to think of myself as a younger “artsy fartsy” version of Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City. Only that my column would deal with dance and performance instead of sex.
- I cannot help but wonder how it happened that we have moved progressively from the dance studios into the shadows of our white or silver macs to build the basis for dance performances?
- Is ballet technique supported by some proper Graham and a regular input of release, Zambrano and the Slovak’s company out of date?
Is releasing the tongue more an issue than turning out in the hips?
- I am wondering how to enable you, my dear readers, how to make it possible for you to picture me dancing Butoh.
- Do you know the distance between Ballet and Pina Bausch? Well, Christina’s work is that distance still further away from Pina.
Now on:
I do not want any trouble. For a couple of weeks now, I keep getting angry comments on the net. My facebook account is filled with pokes!
People seem annoyed with what I’m writing here.
But, I didn’t intend to offend anyone, no one from the CNCD (choreographic center) of Angers, nor from the Embassy of… – that is how the Dancewebbers of 2008 call themselves now.
I mean it.
Therefore, as this blog eventually and inevitably strolls towards its end, I would like to thank all those who have contributed both directly and indirectly (sometimes that is to say “unconsciously”) to its creation. We shall part with no hard feelings.
A parenthesis: last week during a Paris based manifestation for the survival of art and culture I read this slogan: “la preuve de l'art, c'est le partage, the proof of the pudding is in the eating.”[i]
Hence, be generous and praised, be there or be ■:
T. for patiently being my first reader, all the actual essayists (artists working from November 2008 at the Choreographic center of Angers), i.e., Mimi, Emi, Aline, Mo, Meri, Charlene, Yair and Ruben.
Raissa for you are great, David, Pascale, Jasmine, Nathalie, Gildas, Sandra, Anne-Marie, Arnaud, Emmanuelle et Aymar because you are a beautiful crew to work with, Nuno for being around me; thank you Jen, Akira, Lia and Vincent for sharing what is precious for you, thank u to many who are part of Embassy of… for being inspiration, motor and catalyst of what has happened here.
I didn’t mean any harm. I wish I could say:
All the events were fictitious.
Any resemblances to persons living or dead are purely accidental.
But alas I can’t, I can’t say that.
I wonder how did Carrie Bradshaw manage to keep her friends while uncovering all their nasty faults, when I am losing mine without even trying to get their dirt out in the daylight. :-(
It is June. That is right.
But it is June 2010.
And yet I am still in ESSAIS.
I guess you are confused my dear readers, or at worst you’ve lost your trust in me.
The situation is as follows:
The 9 essayists negotiated with the CNDC for another half year. Six more months (Essais was supposed to end in December 2009) to be able to develop our individual works, explore the possibilities that we could open to ourselves within the shelter of the program. To invent, propose, risk, be finally fully responsible for the schedule of an artist.
To fully live the life of a freelance, without actually quitting the school.
A brilliant idea it was.
To reinvent a school.
Aah, I feel you are more confident now.
And it’s also poor slander and unfair imputation to try to break me – I used to be in the top 10 best friends scores on Facebook.
Anyway, I refrained from writing because of all that ugly calumny someone was posting about me and my, quote: “naïve and foolish way of seeing the world”. End of quotation.
“But now I’m back! From outer space!”
And Essais is coming to its real end.
Everyone moves to Berlin.
B. keeps reminding me that there is no money.
Sasha Waltz eats everything, she says.
I might be part of her next creation.
Sasha’s, not B.’s of course.
Hmmm, eventually I could be part of B.’s work, but… I can’t because I’m moving to Berlin as well.
Berlin is cheaper.
I wouldn’t have to come back to waitressing, nor to doing 3rd plan dance animation on TV Shows.
I have it all figured out.
I work for one season with Sasha Waltz. She tours a lot in France at the moment.
I get to know all the venues. The heads of the places. The tails of the heads.
I talk about coming back to France for residencies.
In a year I should get a proposition to show a solo during Petites Scenes Ouvertes (Rennes, Roubaix or la Rochelle). I keep working with Sasha for another year and create another solo using her studios. The next year it is easier to get programmed a couple of times in small festivals.
Three years ahead I get a residency here. Province. La Metive? Le Triangle? Le Life?
Living in France is still out of the question.
In my mid-thirties I should be able to move back to Paris and live in the sexiest city without counting every fucking eurocent.
I’ve written it all down nice and neat. And there is a kind of genealogical picture of my carreer painted with crayons (I got them at the office of the center for free!) that I glued to the wall above my bed. I will send it to my family once I move out. They should be extremely satisfied.
I should see them after my first residency. Getting a visa to come back shouldn’t be a problem anymore. Maybe even my country will join the EU by then.
In the meantime I have a meeting at the town hall with a strikingly beautiful legal adviser. We are to discuss the expiration of my “carte de sejour”. He will talk me into getting back home, east. But I have ways to persuade him to help me stay in this lousy, competitive, cruel Eden.
Good luck to you too, wherever you are reading me.
That’s all, folks.
[i] i.e. the proof of art is sharing
(2010-06-22)
|
