I’ll start by admiring your poetic language. Me, sitting in front of this white page and starting to fill it with thoughts, I remembered my childhood, when I used to give all the time in the world to give concrete form to the ideas, thoughts and dreams inside my imagination. Now that time no longer exists. Maybe that’s why I nested in dance. I looked at it as a way to keep my imagination alive and have been on the road with it until now.
I can’t help but notice certain aspects that unite the two of us, but also the majority of people who nested in dance. We like to express ourselves abstractly, often bypassing a pragmatic hop. We like to slide on a maze of metaphors and ambiguities because they can always be interpreted differently, and this shelters us from clear and blunt statements. This is also the charm of the job, but sometimes it wouldn’t hurt to stop and call things by their name.
I will answer the question of what is more important to me than dancing: love (whatever form it takes) in its broadest sense. He fills me with happiness whenever he visits me. I might be suspected of being overly romantic, but that’s ok, I wouldn’t mind.
What do I believe in? I believe in some universal laws, like when you do good, and that good makes its way back to you. Just like when you do more harm to yourself if you deliberately harm those around you. From the last experiences in my life, I strongly believe in the power of thought and how our brain projects beyond this world, I don’t know what exactly, but it certainly materializes if that thought is desired and strong. I’m not very good at these things, I’ve just noticed them happening and I’m trying to attribute some explanations to them.
Related to the lie-sincerity tandem, I’m going to tickle a bit the side of the artist’s sincerity about what he does. It may be a utopia, but it would be wonderful if every man knew his worth and what he can do in his job. Art is good, it’s beautiful, and everyone has the freedom to tango, but it wouldn’t hurt to be aware of our value and limits as artists.
I jump a bit to another question and answer “how do I get along with time”. With time I have a relationship
changeable. I’m learning to be more patient. The idea of “lack of time” causes me anxiety, especially during this period, when everything seems to have frozen, so practically you have more time, but paradoxically I feel exactly the opposite. It passes quickly and in industrial quantities and remains frozen somewhere in the past. The dance had this magical function of making time pass exactly as I invested it: quickly or dilated. It’s a period and it will pass. All I know is that I want to give the same amount of time to dance as before.
I have a few lines left, reader, to assign you some curiosities to which I ask you to feel free to answer or ignore, but at least let them visit you in thought.
how was your day today
How do you adapt your activity to the current period? How do you get along with this adaptation?
Do you worry about the future of your art in the context in which it is happening now? What do you think are the dangers of our time?
With great curiosity and a shy smile,
The fourth body
In 2021, several choreographers told and forwarded to their colleagues’ questions about the body, the pandemic and the place/meaning of dance for them, in the form of anonymous letters.
Each letter served as inspiration for an illustrator to create an augmented animation during DANSTOPIC workshops in the spring, a guided journey by Skeptic Dog Animation and Human Interface.
The animation of Letter #4 was created by Anca Cimpoieri and can be discovered through the Artivive application.
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.artivive