2014/09/13

" Femme(s) " Group Performance - 
Direction: Jean Daniel Fricker





 Femme(s)





Group Performance

Direction: Jean Daniel Fricker


Assistant: Céline Angèle

With: Céline Angèle, Sophie Cutillas, Anne-Cécile Deliaud, Emmanuelle de Gasquet, Sara Pulici, Iva Tratnik

Special Guest: my mother
Duration: approximately 50 minutes 

 
Drawing: Iva Tratnik
























   


" 
Life is to disappear.

Directing is also about learning to disappear.

I wish to help the diversity of everyone, unique and yet with the others.

I wish also that it breaths, that it keeps on borning in the moment.

In 1993 Kazuo Ohno said: "I want my dance to born on stage, like the cry of a newborn,

it's the incarnation of this spontaneous cry that matters."

"The dance is created in each moment. It has nothing to do with form."

I've dreamed of his death two months before it happened. He's very often in my dreams, 

the other day we danced, and he was throwing red petals. Like that, my mother will be there, throwing red petals.

Emmanuelle has eaten her own mother when she was 13, the ashes.

In 2001 Sara asked me, what is Butoh for you? I answered without hesitating, Butoh is my mother.

One night I climbed a ladder with my mother on my back. 
The water flows.

Does the river exist ?



B O D Y,

I think it is something feminine, the earth, the matter, also the disapperence.

Yes, B O D Y , feminine. "

Jean Daniel Fricker








Première: 2012 August 27th , at "La Ferme du Riuferrer", 
Arles sur Tech (Pyrénées Orientales, South France) 


Teaser: http://vimeo.com/jeandanielfricker/femmes


 

"Something about....Femme(s)


For each stroke of chalk a day of the creation...
For each stroke of comb a cosmic disorder...

There are presences who enter without permission, porcelain darkness never fully illuminated,
long shadows from which the movements of the soul are unraveled.
Are those the flotsam? The feminine bodies?
Like worlds balanced between fires and broken steps, made out of sudden struggles and fragile stillnesses
of dried flowers, women’s bodies are making their way... lashes to lashes, sometimes sitting on their silence,
sometimes lashed by their whiplash. They are just fully awakened and insubordinate flesh.

Every now and then we have to die to go in an elsewhere, swallow our own mother
to look after her, surrender our tainted virginity to reborn women.


And while I see me dancing, under my feet, chasms and flowers."

Sara Pulici












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