Coming Up

1 October 2012
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Acts of Voicing
Württembergischer Kunstverein, Stuttgart.
On the Poetics and Politics of the Voice
October 13, 2012 – January 13, 2013

I’m showing my collage prints and projections from the performance Void Story as part of this show as well as the neon Wait Here. Full info about the show here.

The voice is difficult to grasp—for, in contrast to the eye or the ear, it is not an integrative organ of the senses but is rather spawned by the transient interplay among several organs, such as the lungs, vocal chords, tongue, and gums. The voice always simultaneously exists both inside and outside of the body, and its immateriality weights just as strongly as its social and political import. It equally yields screaming and talking, sense and nonsense, noise and chanting. What is more, the voice is not only a tool of articulation but always likewise associated with action: it can name things, give commands, or swear an oath, declare people innocent or man and wife. How to Do Things with Words? reads the title of John L. Austin’s 1962 book on speech-act therapy.

The exhibition Acts of Voicing deals with the aesthetic, performative, and political significance of the voice from the vantage point of visual art, dance, performance, and theory. The exhibition centers on the agency and performativity of the voice. The aim is to examine both the resistive and the disciplined/disciplining voice—those voices that are heard and others that are not. Fighting to have one’s voice heard is as much of a topic as the power to silence someone or to force them to speak.

Intro text continues here.

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Vote Back! / Stem Terug! DE VERBEELDING
Frascati & de Appel Arts Centre
Performance Saturday 6th October at 19.30 at Frascati.

Meanwhile my monologue text of mashed up political speeches Although We Fell Short , performed by Kate McIntosh is presented as part of this event on 6th October at 19.30 at Frascati in Amsterdam. Info here. Also – around the building – my Fight Posters.

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Finally for the moment, I made a contribution to this investigative and publication project – Des Formes De Vie – comprising a four page chunk of my accumulating to do lists from 2010. Scary reading.

Franck Leibovici
(des formes de vie) une écologie des pratiques artistiques
Questions Théoriques, 2012

Ways Forward

29 August 2012
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Photographs from my work Ways Forward, realised this last weekend in Vilnius as part of the Baltic Triennial of International Art .

“The 11th edition of the Baltic Triennial of International Art is taking a 12 day event focused exclusively on performance and film. Countering the general tendency of biennials to be pluralist, all-encompassing multi-platforms, the curators choose to channel the contributions of artists through a radically minimized vessel – one human being. The Triennial is entitled after its medium who in his own right carries one of the most common Lithuanian names, Mindaugas.

During the day, Mindaugas (the name alludes to ‘daug menąs’ – much wisdom, ‘daugiamintis’ – the one who has many ideas, or ‘daugio minimas’ – much fame) is operated by a number of artists by way of a set of instructions, script, score, scenario etc. to be played out by Mindaugas during the course of one particular day in the city of Vilnius or nearby surrounding areas.”

Geukens & De Vil (Knokke)

5 August 2012
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“Wenn der Löwe sprechen könnte, wir werden Ihn nicht verstehen”

“When the lion could talk, we wouldn’t understand him”
Ludwig Wittgenstein

03/08 – 09/09/2012

With works of
Carl ANDRE – Robert BARRY – Peter DE MEYER – Honoré d’O – Tim ETCHELLS –
Shilpa GUPTA – Gideon KIEFER – Peter LINDBERGH – Perry ROBERTS
At Geukens & De Vil, zeedijk 735,  8300  KNOKKE

ISDF Opening

25 June 2012

This is the text that I read at the really great opening event of the International Student Drama Festival in Sheffield on Friday 22nd June. It starts with a reference to another pretty inspiring event I took part in the same day – a panel discussion at Free Word in London, organised by LIFT and Index on Censorship.

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I was on a panel this morning as part of the LIFT Festival working with Index on Censorship, at London’s Free Word Centre .On the panel were theatre makers from Iraq, Belarus and Lebanon; Lucien Bourjeily, a Lebanese film-maker and theatre director who brought improvised theatre to the streets of Beirut during the political turmoil in 2008; Natasha Kaliada and Nicolai Khalezin, co-founders of Belarus Free Theatre, which performed underground until they were forced into exile in 2010; and Monadhil Daood who founded the Iraqi Theatre Company in 2008.
 
We were talking about what made us work,
what our relation was to issues of censorship and freedom of speech.
I mean it was pretty humbling
and in many ways it felt absurd for me to be speaking at all
given that I was the only person on the panel who had not seen colleagues, friends and families persecuted, imprisoned, tortured or even killed in pursuit of their artistic work or simply for being there.
I can say for sure that these are not the problems I’ve faced in 27 years of making, performing, challenging and provoking in my work with Forced Entertainment… or in the role I’ve taken on recently as a professor at Sheffield University, working with students in theatre at the university.
 
But on the other hand what we spoke about this morning in London reminded me
minded me
of the importance of the space we do have in the arts
and of the limits we do have on in that space
and of the importance of staying free
and real
and live and now
 
We are – in case you hadn’t noticed – living in a space of economic downturn
neo-conservative politics
a space which offers us the dismantling and out sourcing of state functions (health, education, arts)
and in general
cuts
and with cuts a steady insistence on the importance of private sponsorship
a situation in which, little by little sponsors help to define the shape of public institutions.
 
We’re also living in a space here in Britain
where even public money is more and more focused through instrumentalist agendas, more and more focused on the delivery through arts of quantifiable outcomes.
There has been
a turn in Arts Council application process in which they are asking ‘how can you help us to deliver our vision’ – and that still shocks me, because,
I always thought
and still believe
for very good reason
that it was, is, and should be, the other way around.
 
In the broadest sense – in the world of private sponsorship and in the funded sector there is I think an attempt to make an image of the arts as a space of convivial affirmation
which is fair enough in one sense.
 
Reading the materials these days you’d know that art is about celebrating, bringing together, and affirming. You’d know that its about creative self-expression.
It’s harder somehow
to find reference to things like the fact that the arts might challenge, provoke or disturb.
It’s hard to find an emphasis on things like difficulty, difference, division or dissent.
 
Anyway.
We are here at the opening of the International Student Drama Festival in Sheffield – nine days packed with 20 performances and something like 260 workshops –
and I think this will be an amazing opportunity to show and to meet and to invent.
 
In 1984 my colleagues and I moved from Exeter where we had studied, here to Sheffield
I don’t know now what we were doing or thinking back then –it’s lost – I don’t even think we really knew at the time.
But I’m sure we had a sense that there could be
should be
a new theatre
a way to talk about the world we were living through, the situation we were born into,
the world we were starting to inhabit and play a part in as artists and citizens.
 
I imagine, one way or another, that is the reason that you are here also
each in your own ways
that you feel/know/think/intuit that the world needs a different way of speaking into it,
a new way of being articulated or unpicked.
I cant know of course and I cant advise.
Or again, to say it another way,
perhaps I can flag here some of the things that all of you already know.
 
You know that you were born in a certain time at a certain place, and that in time you have a particular eye on what’s around you, a certain ear to the culture, a kind of radar set in particular ways. I can say – which you all know already –  be true to that. And trust that all of it is relevant. Everything you know, everything that you’re curious about, everything that you’ve seen, felt, figured out, loved, hated, suffered, enjoyed, everything connects to what you can do, what you will do, what you have to do, in a certain sense.  In that way – as you know already – what you are is strangely, weirdly, in one sense minutely and in another sense totally, unique. A strange balance of histories, passions, skills, mistrusts, angers and lusts – a balance that’s beautiful, awkward, ugly, tough. Keep it that way.
 
I am talking about what you know already – about your knowledgeable love of computer games, or your passion for Country & Western, Bollywood or outdated political mainfestos or makeshift structures made out of wood. Your skill at maths, your sense of humour, your fear of heights, words, other people, being touched, your love of crowds, flow-charts, dubstep or other things. The combination of these things, there, in you, that you know about already, was not possible before you because this particular moment – in the culture, in the global, the local social and the sexual politics – never was before, and because these things, and others, never met before in that particular set of circumstances, personal and otherwise, that is you.
 
I want to say – what you know already or you would not be there in the first place – that something, now, is possible in theatre, in performance, in live art, in any medium, that was not possible before. And that something – is what you have to do, follow, articulate, question, invent or find and you are the only person or persons that can do that.
 
I advise that you steal things, from everyone and anyone. Take one thing from everything you love and then hide, mix and rework it all in what you do. Take one thing and make it yours. William Burroughs in his brilliant essay Les Voluers prescribes appropriation and remixing as a form of artistic practice and quotes Genet, I think, saying that “the thief is in no hurry” – take time, he says, to survey the scene – everything is there for you to take.
 
I also advise that you be promiscuous (artistically and otherwise if that’s possible) – start conversations, open possibilities, try things, drift, stay curious. Do not lock things down too much too early. Do not lock things down at all. Know – which you know already – that ‘the thing you do’ can shift and change, that your interests are diverse, and that their articulation, might at some point take many forms. Don’t lock things down or get trapped and don’t (either) be distracted by every stupid thing that comes along. Let go and hold on. Be open and defend.
 
I say that the good work comes from people that follow their noses. That the good work comes from people who don’t fit, or whose dogged sticking to a thing, whose dogged pursuit of a thing that no one else cares for, becomes a resource for the rest of us – a revelation, an assertion, an awkward insistence, a hymn to a possibility that we might well otherwise have overlooked.
 
I say – which you know already – as you go forward as makers, writers, directors or performers, don’t be afraid of identifying ways in which what you do meets the agenda of other people, institutions, bodies, funding structures. You may be new writing, you may be audience development, you may be cross-artform, you may even be cultural industries and regeneration of urban landscapes clause 9 sub-paragraph 4, artistic enterprise. Its all fine. You can be inventive and resourceful and assertive in all that. You may be these things – talk that talk and fit temporarily or otherwise into one hole or another – its all fine. But – I say – please know, which you know already – that you are also none of those things, that what you do comes from another place, that the good work in fact, the best of it, conforms to no agenda, is not a truly comfortable or fully compliant part of any scheme, plan or provision, that what you do as artists sets its own pace, place, aesthetic, context, context, that you’re occupancy of any of these positions described above is at best only ever temporary and tactical, only ever a means to an end, and that the end, in the end, is the work you make, and that the work makes its own rules. Nothing less than this is good enough. Everything else is bullshit.
 
I’m thinking back to this morning and the discussion about the space of relative freedom we have here in the arts and as I do so
I’m wishing you a great festival of
purposeful playfulness
or of endless propositions for playful purposefulness
a festival of serious unseriousness or the best kind of unserious seriousness
serious seriousness inserted in unseriousness.
 
Or again I’m thinking about the importance of the space we do have in the arts
space wrapped tight in serious unseriousness or good kinds of unserious seriousness
and
serious seriousness inserted in unseriousness.

 
Tim Etchells.
Sheffield 2012.

 

Alphabet of Festivals

29 February 2012

Late at night, after the show’s ended and a quick drink in the bar at the theatre where your performance was, you set off obediently in search of the festival centre. Everyone said you should go there, towing the line about chances to meet audience and other artists. Not far, they said. Not far. Not too far. In any case it’s easy – a blob of luminous green marks its place on the map at the back of the Brochure. You walk. Consult the map. Walk again but after 15 minutes maybe more it’s clear that from this map whole parts of the city are omitted and in any case it’s not to scale. Crossing the ring road or the river there’s a winding trek up hills or down blind alleys before, eventually, on the point of giving up and back to Ibis, you find it. The festival centre is a subterranean space most likely, dark anyway, with a DJ playing too loud music vibrating the air of an empty dance floor. The intern who collected you hours or days ago at some early airport pick-up looks exhausted and distracted not to mention surprised to even see you as she makes her way out of the door and exits the exact moment of your arrival. No one else seems to be here. Or just a few people. Scraps of humanity washed up in small groups against the walls. You recognise a couple of guys, you think they might be Latvian, possibly the technical crew of that heavy metal political puppet Company talking to another guy – an actor maybe Spanish working with that French company – who you vaguely remember meeting at an artists breakfast at another festival in Reykjavik or Berlin. You order drinks, pay and then remember that there are free drink tokens in the festival pack. Too late. You pack around a table as far away from the music as possible. The walls are sweating, even though the place is empty. You drink the drinks. A guy comes over and says great, thanks, he really liked the show but the more he talks the more you realise that he’s not actually talking about your show – the scenes he’s describing are from something else by somebody else. The guy drifts off and few of your colleagues leave but you decide to stay for one more drink. a decision you soon come to regret as the conversation from your remaining colleagues descends into a tangled rant about a part of the show that isn’t really working anymore, people complaining and vaguely accusing each other in a combination of circles and different directions. It’s 3 in the morning, or 4 even, when you finally rise to retrace steps towards Ibis or Novotel, walking the streets and hoping against hope for a taxi, trying as you do so to make an Alphabet of Festivals.

A – Audience
As in who are you talking to anyway?
Who are you talking with?
Who’s coming, who’s walking through the doors?

B – Bar. The Festival Bar, the centre stained with a luminous green.

C – Community
Connection. Community. The possibility of community – in the world, in the city, across the city, in the theatre or performance space.
Belonging. The possibility of belonging. From the perspective of artists and audiences.
To be part of something
To take part in something
To see something
To share something
To share questions and frame answers about something.

What is it to belong?

Here in that space – the space of the theatre,
or in the larger space of a festival programme:
(what you are working on is)

The formation of temporary community

The time of the festival itself unfolding, negotiating its way into the city, into dialogue with audiences, and the idea of what’s possible.

Or D. Doubt.
Could you make a festival of doubt?

Or E.
A Festival of Excess?
Or of Erasure?
Or of Exhaustion?
Or of Ecstasy?

Or F – Fear? Or Forgetting?
Aren’t all festivals anyway a kind of forgetting?

Or Fame? Or a Festival of the Fortunate?
Or a Festival of Flies? Or of Fiction? Or of Flying?
Or of Fake Smiles?

And then G.

Gathering.
The way we’re gathered, here.
But for what? And with and for whom?

The Question Being – for any Festival, after all
Exactly What to Celebrate
What to mark
And with and for whom to Mark It
Around what to Convene
To speak back to Community again
And how to celebrate also

That we gather is great, of course but given that we do so,
with what purpose, with what aim?

Forgetting the alphabet for a moment, but still walking.

Out there somewhere
Or in here somewhere, coming from out there somewhere
Or out there somewhere, coming from in here somewhere
There is
an idea
of what is possible.

And in one sense the purpose of festival is to change that idea
I mean
by festival
the idea of what is possible is changed,
That in and thru festival new things seems possible
Or that old things seems impossible
Or that a new kind of perception seems possible
Or that an old kind of imperception or ignorance or ignore/ance seems impossible

That’s pretty much the main purpose of art too by the way
In case someone doesn’t know that.

Another way to saying
A festival is a machinery for listening
But also a machinery for speaking
But also a machinery for making space in which others can listen
But also a machinery for making space in which others can speak

Festival has to listen
To the city / neighbourhood / place it’s in
Could be a country or a street corner or a countryside
Trying to hear, sensitise, trying to listen or divine somehow,
Trying to take account or take stock of that place, its particularities

but at the same time as deeply listening and listening deeply
festival speaks out loud and into the city
should speak strongly
and in speaking changing it
and in speaking re-seeing it
as in another function of art
re-versioning or
when you festival you dream / re-dream the city
rewrite
remix remake
and you have to have guts for that
I mean a sharp tongue for festival speaking as well as keen ears for festival listening
Brain for processing.

Get back to the alphabet.

H. H. Nothing. H.
Really nothing for H ?
Perhaps Hope perhaps?

Or Home.

You are not even half way home and anyhow home when you eventually reach it this festival night will only be a hotel. You have come to the place where the road bridge crosses back into the city. You and your straggling companions are the only traffic. Foot-traffic by the dual carriageway, under the high sodium street-lamps and the rain that starts to fall.

You stick on H and go back to Hope, perhaps.

What you hope for, is that festival might be a place more of questions than confirmations.

It’s a good thing to be part of something
To take part in something
To see something
To make or share something
There’s nothing wrong with Joining In.

But these days, after all, everyone wants you joined in, connected, networked, on the team and on-side, in fact everyone wants you to participate. Even the bank wants you to follow it on Twitter, the Petrol Station wants Five Minutes of Your Time to Tell it What You Think. Every purchase involves joining a ‘community’. You’re never just buying stuff after all – you are expressing yourself. You are curating your life. You are adding value. Just remember. You are taking part, making a difference. With every purchase you are buying into something, joining a club, connecting, plugging in friends, even making new friends. Capitalism is so much more than product now, don’t you find?

What you might reasonably hope then is that Festival
That Art itself even
Might offer something other than the kind of manufactured belonging
the kind of value added fog of pseudo-together-feeling and association those guys
Over at cognitive capitalism are so good at these days
Larding it over every purchase

what you might hope
(you’re still in the alphabet)
(and you’re still walking back into town)
What you might Hope
is that the sharing in those spaces of Art and Festival
might be more about
questions than anything else

that there in that space
of Art and Festival
we might encounter
not just who we are, who we already know we are
and how we like to come together
but instead a chance to focus on
what we might be
or what we are frightened we might be
or what we accuse each other of
or what our doubts are
our grey areas
or what our edges, gaps or borders might be

there are some things, many things, after all that the bogus community offered by capital
in its endless tawdry inventiveness of what can be bought and what can be sold
does not offer
and it’s those things, those kinds of things, you might really hope to Festival.

You’re wishing that it were possible to Festival not so much
the ease of comfort and manufactured belonging
as Dissent. Debate and Difference.
Rift. Rupture and the Irreconcilable.

You miss the unresolvable. The incommensurable.
The problem – framed in art and Festival – that can’t be resolved. The problem that knots and tangles the room, that stays with people, tangles after them, flowing, wrapping, warping and haunting and cajoling them on the street.. A Festival of ghosts and Tangles in fact. A Festival of Knots. A festival of fools dreaming tangles and questions. A festival of the anguished.

You miss the absolutely Awkward and the Belligerent.
Since there’s really too much P for Polite in cultural space which clamps down the possible
Rather than expanding it.

And at heart you’re concerned with what our possibles are and our how our current impossibles might become possibles and politics

And besides,

By this time. 4 maybe 5am you are arrived at the Ibis/Novotel/Holiday Inn/Premiere Inn/Maritim/Mercure/or whatever it is and you have pretty much abandoned the alphabet since your more and more, or more or less, runaway train of thought is not helped by it’s constriction construction.

There in the lobby of the hotel, standing against a backdrop of Muzak from speakers you ask the Night Porter his opinion, his advice and the guy behind the counter looks up from his computer (inevitably Facebook) and looks you straight in the eye.

He says:
There is currently a blurring or overlap between lifestyle/cognitive or experience capitalism and the kind of scenarios and offers once generated exclusively by the space of art. Where once we pitched the live arts especially against capital – championing their ephemerality, their capacity for individualisation and their interest in the generative possibilities of social network and encounter, now these things, these interests – once radical – are the meat and potatoes of public facing capitalism.

You say – You are everywhere invited to participate?

He says: Yes precisely. But there is a problem in the terms of the offer.

The elevator pings. As if ushering you to bed, as if asking you, please to step out of this strange space but before you can leave the night porter pauses then says:

In the offer there is an insistence on, or pull towards, a definition of community as non-conflict – a pull towards consensus and affirmation rather than dispute. That is capitals need. Its demand, its move –  to assert the possibility of endless growth and acquisition.

Yes, you say.

He says:

Capitals’ continuing expansion and extension into the social sphere sells us ourselves back to ourselves, diverting us from the real questions about what we lack or about the things we have but do not need. We are not to argue over priorities. Or to question our own or others certainties, narratives, truths. Community (the kind bought and sold out there in the marketplace), must, in other words, cohere. And we must belong.

You say – There is a pull there though – it is great, isn’t it, to be together?

He says:

Yes. But we need to think also about what keeps us apart.
And we need to remember that belonging, properly, cannot be purchased.

Participation and belonging are not objects – they are not things which can be achieved solidly or owned concretely – they cannot be acquired, they are processes which need to be worked at, lived in and through… processes which along with togetherness, sharing and mutuality also involve difficulty, dissent, and disagreement, hard work, uncertainty, doubt and dispute. They flow. They alter. They contradict. They involve tension and change.

Yes. You say. Or maybe.

He says:
A promise of belonging that does not insist on (acknowledge, offer or make space for) process, dispute and dissent is basically a false promise – an offer of supposed benefits without the true troubles, responsibilities and relations implied by those terms.

Yes, you say. Or no. Or maybe.

The elevator pings again and you take it.

In the morning you call reception. The Night Porter answers, but is leaving, heading out to his day job at another hotel. You say wait, wait a moment; these are the Festivals of which I have been dreaming.

A Festival Of Slow Time

A Festival Of Mischief

A Festival Of Madness

A Festival Of Forgetting

A Festival Of Freedom

A Festival Of War

A Festival Of Summer & Winter

A Festival Of Lies

A Festival Of The Predictably Unpredictable

A Festival Of Hope

A Festival of Intransigence

A Festival of Free Fall

A Festival of Revolution

A Festival of Coincidences

A Festival of Second Chances

A Festival of Speaking in Tongues

A Festival of Ghost Ships

A Festival of Nonesense

A Festival of Heartbreak

A Festival of Statutory Requirements

A Festival of Shivering

A Festival of Shimmering

A Festival Of Private Conversations

A Festival Of The Never Seen Before

A Festival Of Booze

A Festival of Festivity

A Festival Of Memory

A Festival Of Barking Dogs

A Festival Of The Unknown

A Festival Of The Inevitable

A Festival of Magic

A Festival of Idiots

A Festival of Bad Driving

A Festival of Bald Men

A Festival Of Emptiness

A Festival Of Youth

A Festival Of Europe

A Festival Of Afterwards

A Festival of Before

A Festival of In-Between

A Festival of Circular Arguments

A Festival of Love

A Festival Of Falling

A Festival Of Night Terror

A Festival Of Anti-Terror

A Festival Of Sleeping Audiences

A Festival Of Ambience

A Festival Of Sponsors

A Festival Of Sponsors-Shit

A Festival Of Trepidation

A Festival Of Stasis

A Festival Of The Known

A Festival Of The Dismal

A Festival Of Screaming

A Festival of Bad Jokes

A Festival Of The Dangerous

A Festival Of Flesh

A Festival Of Heat

A Festival Of Experimental Surgery

A Festival Of Gunshots

A Festival Of Colonies

A Festival of Car Alarms

A Festival Of Oppression

A Festival Of Champagne

A Festival Of Spring

A Festival Of Water

A Festival Of Fire

A Festival Of Fracture

A Festival Of Fault Lines

A Festival Of Subterfuge

A Festival of Forgery

A Festival of Games

A Festival of Data

A Festival of Dada

A Festival of Mazes

A Festival of Robots

A Festival of Solutions

A Festival of Waiting

A Festival of Impatience

A Festival of Age

A Festival of the Almost Impossible

A Festival of the Also-Rans

A Festival of the Borrowed

A Festival of the Dead

A Festival of Explosions

A Festival of Implosions

A Festival of Industry

A Festival of the Wrong Things

A Festival of Bad Timing

A Festival of Goodbyes

A Festival of Graffiti

A Festival of Whispers

A Festival of Dreams

A Festival of Wasteground

A Festival of Smoke & Mirrors

A Festival of Ice

A Festival of Public Laughter

A Festival Of Shit & Piss

A Festival of Shadows

A Festival Of Blood Tests

A Festival Of Rules

A Festival Of Waste

A Festival of Secrets

A Festival Without Sense

A Festival Without Artists

A Festival Without Programmers

A Festival Without Audience

A Festival Without Programme

A Festival Without Venues

A Festival Without Borders

A Festival Without End

 

Tim Etchells. Sheffield, February, 2012.

Commissioned by LIFT and the Jerwood Charitable Foundation for The Future of Festivals Symposium February 2012.

PhotoMusee De La Danse in Rennes

25 February 2012

Tim Etchells, Pierre Leguillon, Jean-Luc Moulène, Tino Sehgal
exposition du lundi 5 au samedi 31 mars 2012 (fermée les dimanches), de 12h à 18h, gratuit,
au Musée de la danse / St Melaine, Rennes et à l’EESAB-site de Rennes.

ouverture : lundi 5 mars à 19h, Tableau Vivant proposé par Pierre Leguillon à 19h30 (sur réservation – jauge limitée)
le projet de Tino Sehgal sera uniquement visible les vendredi 30 et samedi 31 mars de 14h à 18h

Photography fixes time, stops movement. But since its origin, the capture of what passes constitutes the impossible horizon of its quest. What can be the meaning of a frozen image of dance? What gives life to it? What tension, what relation to the body does it carry? With this exhibition, three artists propose their imaginary museums of dance: three photographic strategies to account for gestures, ideas, references or desires related to the choreographic imaginary.

Portraits of Steve Paxton, Xavier Le Roy and Julia Cima by Jean-Luc Moulène, Photomusée de la danse created by Tim Etchells, La Grande Évasion, collection of images assembled on the internet by Pierre Leguillon.

As counterbalance to the exhibition PHOTO, artist Tino Sehgal will experiment with the public a new project of choreographic installation, playing on “the life of the bodies".