EU NÃO POSSO SENTIR POR VOCÊ, MAS EU POSSO SENTIR COM VOCÊ
Criada durante residência artística no Museumsquartier, em Viena, a Eu não posso sentir por você mas posso sentir com você resulta de um workshop no qual a artista elabora, com os demais participantes, as sensações e acontecimentos que viveu desde sua chegada à cidade.
O trabalho tem três movimentos distintos. No primeiro, a artista lê para os participantes um texto em que narra suas impressões sobre a cidade e seus habitantes. No segundo, os participantes produzem máscaras e roupas. No terceiro, dançam na área pública do museu, inclusive com quem se aproxima.
Fundamentado em uma dança que pode ou não ser compartilhada, o trabalho põe em tensão as relações entre pessoas e tempo histórico, sempre uma alegoria e uma arritmia. Apontando para o fato de Viena ter protagonizado eventos tidos como vetores políticos e artísticos do mundo moderno, expõe a solidão de seus habitantes diante dos espectros históricos deste passado.
O trabalho tem três movimentos distintos. No primeiro, a artista lê para os participantes um texto em que narra suas impressões sobre a cidade e seus habitantes. No segundo, os participantes produzem máscaras e roupas. No terceiro, dançam na área pública do museu, inclusive com quem se aproxima.
Fundamentado em uma dança que pode ou não ser compartilhada, o trabalho põe em tensão as relações entre pessoas e tempo histórico, sempre uma alegoria e uma arritmia. Apontando para o fato de Viena ter protagonizado eventos tidos como vetores políticos e artísticos do mundo moderno, expõe a solidão de seus habitantes diante dos espectros históricos deste passado.
2015
90'
performance
Museumsquartier, Viena
partcipantes: Alice Ursini, Anastasia Soutormina, Dana Sultana, Nadine, Maja, Nancy Wanderberg, Tatiana Bereza.
90'
performance
Museumsquartier, Viena
partcipantes: Alice Ursini, Anastasia Soutormina, Dana Sultana, Nadine, Maja, Nancy Wanderberg, Tatiana Bereza.
"Something in me fell asleep when I arrived in Wien. In the first week that was not a problem at all. Even I realized that, but soon it became a little disquieting. I start to think about that kind of numbness I felt and why people seem so polite but at the same time so “deprived of feelings and keeping it up for themselves”. So, yesterday I went to Zentralfriedhof, the biggest cemetery in Europe. And then, I started to feel a sort of disorder, like an estrangement. Dead people sleeping since 1874, those monumental buildings – graves, churches – it all began to bother me. Besides, there are more people dead and buried in Wien than alive.
I caught the bus (strassesbahn) and decided to go straight to the suburbs. Surely, I was in a real city – freak people, immigrants and mothers with their babies taking a Sunday sunbath – a way of life without subterfuges.
When I arrived at the MuseumsQuartier (a very central place) we went to an Indian restaurant for dinner. And then, what happened made me lose my sleep that night. The manager accused us of not having paid. But we did, of course. We had just left the restaurant when the manager started to follow us on the street to confront us. Something in me totally shook me and I answered: well, you can call the police and we’ll resolve this in the police office. Then, he gave up and went away. I lost my sleep and regained my feelings. The most interesting thing about that experience was that the violence shook me out of my apathy.
And I realized I was like an intense resonance chamber, feeling the same kind of numbness I had felt since the beginning. Layers and layers of numbness and official history buried in the buildings and streets, surely in the bodies and lives as well, but not in the faces or gestures. Everybody seemed to be masqueraded, sleeping on the official history – a certain apathy, a kind of anesthesia, appeasement or subsidence – in other words, people with imperturbable gestures as if events would not affect them."
I caught the bus (strassesbahn) and decided to go straight to the suburbs. Surely, I was in a real city – freak people, immigrants and mothers with their babies taking a Sunday sunbath – a way of life without subterfuges.
When I arrived at the MuseumsQuartier (a very central place) we went to an Indian restaurant for dinner. And then, what happened made me lose my sleep that night. The manager accused us of not having paid. But we did, of course. We had just left the restaurant when the manager started to follow us on the street to confront us. Something in me totally shook me and I answered: well, you can call the police and we’ll resolve this in the police office. Then, he gave up and went away. I lost my sleep and regained my feelings. The most interesting thing about that experience was that the violence shook me out of my apathy.
And I realized I was like an intense resonance chamber, feeling the same kind of numbness I had felt since the beginning. Layers and layers of numbness and official history buried in the buildings and streets, surely in the bodies and lives as well, but not in the faces or gestures. Everybody seemed to be masqueraded, sleeping on the official history – a certain apathy, a kind of anesthesia, appeasement or subsidence – in other words, people with imperturbable gestures as if events would not affect them."
