The deep sealiehope
I am sitting in my cardbord boatboxbrain. I am dreaming of the seaskyworld. I am freelonleysad. Trying to swimmsearchreach someone who careslovesfeels. Floating in the waterthoughtstears. I come across a stormfightlost and try to navigate. I am spinning helplessly feeling illstrongbrave. I will dive deeper and deeperupout.
Sometimes I lie in my bed neither awake nor asleep. Images flood my brain and some of them speak to me with a strange kind of truth. This short film developed out of one of them. I saw myself standing inside a cardbordbox wearing a swimsuit and diver goggles. The sea was spilling out of the box, washing over my ankles into a dark nothing. In my imagination the water was build out of turquoise skeins of yarn. The room was dark, lit only by a small lamp and I had to prepare for something, for everything.
And then I was thrown into the ocean, floating upside down. Having no direction, no aim and no clear emotion. All was water – inside and outside.
Another cut and I was fighting the water. I was thrown out of my box. All security gone. I had to fight to hold onto the box. Struggling to climb inside. Running in it over water, defying the tides, the water and the wind. I was thrown from left to right. The horizon disappeared behind huge waves. I had to hold the wheel tightly to steer my box through the storm.
Finally, everything collapsed. The box revealing itself as a box. The cardboard ripping in the ocean. And me… remembering these strange images. Sitting amidst of skeins of wool.
I am not here...yet
I am not here...yet
If you are waiting time can grow, it grows into a grey giant made from rubber which presses down in every space available. It fills everything, your eye sockets, your ears, nose, and mouth. It wanders under your armpits and snuggles around your skin. Little by little it encases you in a soft but unyielding mass of boring time. You may drown of a temporal interloop. The waiting grey is not silent, it also fills your senses with white noise till nothing can reach you anymore. The waiting time will grow until there is no future or past. Time is collapsed in itself. There is only now.
You must cut it down, the now. You must fragment the time into smaller and smaller intervals, so that in front of you, millions of tiny time slots unfurl. They are no longer grey. These slots are dark with a red ember glowing inside. Ready to be filled. Now start to do something: Move, jump, kick, turn, repeat. Every action will structure time. You will lend the grey rhythm, order, and duration. You will leave the endless now and change it into a linear concept of time. But outside the now is only so much time left.
This video is developed out of a dance improvisation I made during waiting. I sat in the reception area of a community centre, waiting for my husband to finish his work. It was dark outside and inside, I could here distant noises of cars and saw people passing the big glass door, but nobody noticed me. I had no light, no music, nothing to read or do, so I started to move. The glass front of the building with its red glow of the street lamps was a stage-like display case for my dance. I cut down the waiting time into intervals of jumps and turns. I conquered timelessness through rhythm. I sequenced the now.
The video was made with magix, the music with audacity, the dance with my body - 2018
The bird_the wolf dist/rep
The choreography starts in emptiness, in undefined space. Its structure is made of blank figures. The viewer finds only virtual individuality, movements that add up to even more movement. Intimate gestures create a web of persistent patterns.
Yet everything stays undefined in space. Not even others connect with another - the dancers stay distant. The viewer cannot penetrate the interaction, cannot stop the junctions and disjunctions. Layers obfuscate Layers, the innerst is never touched.
More and more Movements superimpose over other movements, by them the space is slowly filled. Sound, Imagery, Meaning and Movement condense to a dark mist until they are engulfed by darkness.
Regie: Tim Juckenack / Simone Neumann-Salva
Choreographie: Simone Neumann-Salva
Technische Realisation: Tim Juckenack
Sound: Tim Juckenack
Tanz: Christiane Athmer / Kirsten Ben Haddou / Simone Neumann-Salva / Dominika Nowak
Photography and Performance
Dishonour of a public bathroom