My opening :)

It is always extra super great to have an opening of an exhibition that shows your work. But if it an exhibition of  photographs from dance performances and the opening is started off by a dance performance than it is double-extra-super-dooper exciting.

Sunday Trippin'

when devastation becomes beauty (or why are we fascinated by disasters?)

 

  The road ends here. From here on it is skinny dipping only.

 The forest ends here. Only toothpicks remain.

Civilisation as we know it ends here. No electricity, no mobile phones, no internet. Just cold, fresh air remains.

Slovenia's answer to its lack of coast line.
(You didn't actually think I was going to answer the rhetorical question from the beginning did you?)

Playing a writing game

2 shows/ 1 evening. Them / us / some other them / me.

The first (What remains) was in reality a film screening with a support act of two dancers slow dancing across the stage. The dance was pushed so far into the background it was either washing the dishes in the cellar (not to be snuffed at, for if we are to believe Down and out in Paris in London there was a time George felt almost privileged to soak his hands for hours on end for half a loaf of bread and a few bottles of cheap plonk) or was dangling on hanger number 512 at the very back of the cloakroom, while the film took a leisurely stroll down the red carpet, pausing every now and then to smile for the slightly flabbergasted paparazzi. It all seemed a bit like advertising a screening of Battleship Potemkin as a concert by Edmund Meisel (both exceptional in their own way, but their positions and relations seem quite clear from today's perspective, unfortunately I have no idea how it was perceived in 1925). 

And I think I wrote all my clever (I know, the reality is that it is middle of the road rambling at best) ideas for the first one of the evening, so not many of my brain cells remain in working order to write about the second performance of the night (What happens when you touch it), which was more a game, an exploration in which the dancers toyed with movements, bodies and body parts, synchronization, sounds... But you know, as I always think (and say less often, but always when asked): Go and see it for yourself, you never know when something you see will collide with those strange, fragmented, slightly damaged and hard to reach memory fragments in your brain and inspire you to do something inspiring of your own. 

I say what I am told to say

It was fun to watch a performance that tackled my day time job, and to top it off it made me want to read more Beckett (maybe even everything he wrote, just so I would be considered crazy (as they state in the play)), which I will do as soon as I finish the books I am currently reading. 

One never knows

what this guy will do for his next exhibition.

One of the rare performances

where it was better to stay outside if you wanted good photographs (unfortunately I didn't),

3rd time lucky

There are very few exhibitions I have seen so many times.

Alice in Wonderland

I tried to get in to their last rehearsal before the opening night, but it all got a bit too hectic, so I was invited to the opening night instead, but just to watch... So, no photos from the performance, but just a wonderland one of the final bow.

Waiting for Freddie

There I was waiting for Freddie. Pacing up and down the cold street waiting for him to appear from around the corner on his bike.
(you say ice, I say where?)

Wild berries

not really such a tough name for a band, but they certainly managed to stay around for decades.

 But as a lot of the crowd was way to young to remember them from back then, I guess they came to watch the girls dancing on the tables.