BRUNO emerges from the mist like a stranded ship, a sigh left there. It cascades away into a pause. A piece of hole. Something that doesn’t happen. A breeze of what didn’t take place. A haunting. To let ourselves be haunted, to let ourselves be sang, to sigh, together. To not do much. To step aside, to let a rumbling moment pass, to weave thoughts against a break, to nestle inside of a break. To brake, together. To rest, to be absent from an event, together. To caress a thought. To rest, to stay there. To not worry about a flow, to do things in vain. To not write scores, protocols, to wait, cry, stop, to not fill, to hold back the filling, to dance next to our shoes. To open a hand and let go, to not hold back, to lighten, to tenderly support, to relieve. BRUNO, a follow spot, an anticipation, a point of dew, an erotic assembly, a blinking dance. À cheval between languages, BRUNO strips the writing away from the dance, in chains, in lights, beaming, vaping, a somber extravaganza folded into a room.
Imagine a tower of countless lamps and light sources. It comes to life buzzing, creaking and crackling to the rhythm of switching sounds. Named after the light designer Bruno Pocheron, BRUNO brings together a series of dances oscillating between figuration and abstraction with three dancers trying on their movements as if they were clothes: every touch, every gesture, however fugitive, forever printed.
All images © Samuel Feldhandler
9th – 10th March