Wee Scavetta

“Home is where one start from”. T.S. Eliot
“Home Movie” deals with our emotional responses to the connotation of “home” as a place of warmth, comfort and affection. Home as a metaphor for identity, of domestic bliss, conflicts and routines. The place where to welcome and where to close the door and be by ourselves. Where we feel safe and where dishes can pile up. The utopian emotional location we recollect with nostalgia. When talking about home, we often regress to childhood and refer to the place we grew up.

“Hardly ever” explores the notion of truth and lies in theatre and everyday experience, bringing forward an investigation started with “Sincerely yours” (2008-09).
The work plays with the gap between creating expectations and allowing the unexpected. Presenting the juxtaposition of physical responses to verbal statements, where the slight mismatch opens for new associations. Involving the body as cartography of the space and using the voice, singing and talking, with a significant text that informs with its meanings and affects for what it evokes .

Sometimes things get accidentally lost and never show up again.

The act of vanishing: we are all searching for something to be grasped, if not is lost forever.
There is a game that Freud describes as: “Children making things disappear and reappear, over and over, again”, as if they are practicing the experience of loss.

The Surprised body project is a dance piece that focus on choreographic and compositional issues and sees the body and the movement as its central element. The project has been developing, as an ongoing creative process, by creating several new versions of the work while touring in different countries, sometimes also involving guest dancers and new composers to participate in the performance.
Since its première in Buenos Aires, in October 2010, the project has been successfully presented in 27 countries in Europe, Asia and South America.

“On the moon and the day after” is built around absurd and surreal situations, with a flow that permeates and binds the elements together, albeit in a subtle and paradoxical way. We find ourselves in a white space that slightly suggest a urban landscape. A dreamlike atmosphere, with cinematic science fiction references, where the tension plays between dark humor and poetical non-sense. This loads of distillated situations invites us to examine how we relate to, and discriminate between, personal and impersonal, natural and constructed.

Strangely enough it’s a solo performed by Gry Kipperberg. The music is composed by Luigi Ceccarelli and played live by the contrabassist Daniele Roccato.
The piece deals with the relationship between physicality and the perception of intimate states, where images are simultaneously simple and enigmatic, visible and hidden. A context where the abstract flows into concrete forms and actions, inviting the audience to be a visitor.

Based on questions about truth and lies in the context of performing art, the piece takes place in a world where the artificial aims to be real and the reality seems weirdly unnatural. Lying might be considered one of the icons of the human condition. We start lying very early in our childhood, even before having the ability to comprehend whether a statement is believable or not. One recent study found that most people lie once or twice a day, and over the course of a week deceive about 30 of the people they interact with personally. One might end up drawing a conclusion that one cannot be absolutely sure about anything, except what one chooses to believe in.

We are wondering. Is art just a question of belief?

“And I stood there watching the sky and the people below” is an ironic investigation on artificial paradises and extreme moments. It’s a list of bizarre accidents, surreal gestures and talks, dance and video clips, which flows in a weird, paradoxical way. This loads of distillated situations invites us to examine how we relate to, and discriminate between, personal and impersonal, natural and constructed. The core of the performance lies in an expression of artificiality which contemporary experience is often based on: one of no longer living in the world, nor in the language, but the in the image of the world.

“Hey dude, let’s stick around a bit longer this time” leaves a strange sensation. An atmosphere of end of the summer, when the holidays are over and it’s time to go home_
The piece takes shape in a natural landscape, a sort of sandy beach.
It’s narrative structure mixes references from movies, sitcoms, news and videogames, while the physical language comes from a research on a fluid and disarticulated movement, that includes the daily gesture.

“Z” completes, in a sort of trilogy, an investigation on vision and illusion, daily and unreal, artificiality and distortion, started with performance “A sudden, unexpected faint” (2000) and continued with “Live*” (2002).

The three performances created, change radically in format and aesthetic form, but all take place in a visual and acoustic environment where reality and its electronic/virtual reproduction, are never well outlined, but interact with each other, in complex and ever varied relations.

The use of the video, in tight dialog with music originally composed, has been central elements of the three works.

Developed from an analysis on vision and illusion, everyday life and unreality, artificiality and distortion, the performance takes place in a visual and acoustic environment where reality and its electronic/virtual reproduction, are never well outlined; where vision and sound perceptions are constantly questioned, as if a short circuit in the transmission of the images would project a complex being, made of an inextricable mixture of reality and thought, hallucination and memory, as an ever new fluxus of interferences.

“When she’s here she’s far away, when she’s back she’s gone”

It was perhaps a need for intimacy that led me to work on a duo, to tell a little story of epiphany and
metamorphosis, of humour and fragility and of dance which is as acrobatic as a caress. A hand drawing cyclones in the air, eyes closed and thinking nothing but of acting like a phenomenon.

Multiple cosmogonies agree on one fact: in the beginning there was nothing.
“And God created a garden.”
The garden is a beginning for us.

The audience is involved in an imaginary world where you can find physical dance and little acts, like in a kind of family circus, like in the continuous and a bit dreamy dimension of a child’s game, but marking it with a touch of light smoothness and moments of refined invention.

A world full of humorous surprise in an atmosphere that recalls images of an old black and white movie we found in the loft