Creations
Au bord de l'oubli / Là où rien du coeur ne se perd
How does a body fit to disruptions, when the events aren't connected to the memory anymore? That's the starting point of our new creation
A proposition to follow the metamorphosis of a body, and to enter into a confusion analogue to what governs the dream state.
Read more: Au bord de l'oubli / Là où rien du coeur ne se perd
Des Arbres sur la banquise
"For a long time I walked on stiits as if in close proximity to myself ."
Françoise Delcarte, Levée d'un corps d'oubli sur un corps de mémoire
It is a poetic image, suspended in time and in space calling forth contradictory landscapes, colours, shapes and the seasons associated with them. It is also a natural phenomenon -“the drunk forests” that represent the destabilisation of the polar forests during the defrosting of the earth, and the strange tree dance that results. With this title Serge Ricci drives us towards the threshold of a dimension where we must penetrate without any bearings, a meeting with an imagination that - “ bestows space with the fluidity of water that plays games with obstacles”. A parable of the transformation of our environment – and the instability and the loss of memory that accompanies this – is the line that followed the group to explore situations that invented themselves at the edges of up rooting : how does the organism react without its roots, its equilibrium, its habits ? And what are its positions, the traces of new identities that can resurge from these disruptions.
I didn't want to die
At the beginning, there's a solo created more than ten years ago for Antonin Lambert, solo that has been revived lots of times by many dancers from Serge Ricci's circle. Je n'ai pas voulu mourir mixes on stage pieces of this various soli, changed by the years and one's singularity.
What fascinated once again in Ricci's and sidekick's work, above the argument of the solo, is that we're not able to specify what we're seeing : everything is shifting.
Par dessus bord
A solo, a garden, an intimate space; fenced, endlessly rebuilt, unfinished or unfinishable, where one must endlessly fight against proliferation, against what creeps and accumulates
hoping for a peace that never gets declared…
The soloist is never alone on stage whatever the style of performance. He faces the spectators for whom he performs. Alone, and not alone, this situation becomes a source of tension.
