> Enter the dream center
I dive into fatigue. As the project enfolds, i loose track. Need to activate myself consciously. I felt dizzy in the morning, some kind of vertigo. I couldn’t join the training physically. But I comfort myself with the thought that observation is an activity. Wanting to take part. To have a part, to belong, to share their joy and excitement. I am hanging out with Antonia, accompanying her while she is cooking. My brain feels squeezed. I cannot think. And it rains all day.. is it just me? Lost on a lonely planet. Working in Dance Studios makes me sad. Working in Public space makes me sad. Does it really change us, our habits, our work? I am not sure. Can hardly keep my eyes open. Does it change something out there? We remain within the Bubble. Bub bub. This art hurts. Two women singing sweet melodies while they are fighting. This art helps. Two women fighting with the spaghetti syndrome, dis-entangling the mic cable mess in the middle of an improvisation. Crystals of collaboration. Bubbledibub. We need protection. A membrane around us. Translucid. I picture us standing in a line under fake palm trees, looking into the camera. Light spirited. Under a sunny sky. I feel vacuum-dried. What does silence look like? I picture us, with headphones, dancing on a rooftop, each body to another song. Am I happy? At least for a moment? No matter how hard we try.., there’s always a rest of bubbleness: The rooftop. The fiction. The ‚We‘ know and ‚you‘ don’t. The desire of creating something that is open to different understandings, open to non-understanding. The desire of saying something without knowing exactly what it is. The desire of differing from the status quo, from reality, from how it is supposed to be, from the rules, the necessary, the adequate, the logical, the must, the useful, the past. And without this distinction, art would probably be everyday life, or tourism, or activism, or science. So we draw a line. Maybe in the wrong place, sometimes. I try to avoid saying that I am an artist. I would like you to be inside. Or displace what is inside and outside. Make it a zone of encounter, instead of a frontier. But in order to make it a shared territory, a collective dream, we would need to draw the lines together.