Guestbook – Watch|Touch

Olaf: I’m embarrassed. I didn’t know where to put myself. I took a place in front of her. She is on the bench. She begins. I’m used to dance performances… but when she comes so close I was… I’m no longer a spectator… I’m part of the performance. I didn’t want to even touch her, impossible to cross the frontier between actor and spectator. A knot in my throat. She dances and moves only for me. I experienced the same emotion perhaps in intimate relations, the first time, when one doesn’t know how to react. Congratulations, I’m really moved…”

Michele: A romantic and consumeristic feeling, a very beautiful doll, and traces of light and momentaneous incomprehension, but also 4 minutes outside of time.

Enzo: It was a beautiful experience that gave a feeling of freedom that I’ll remember as one of the most beautiful ever felt.

Aldo: To see a body that moves in response to your gaze, that follows your eyes and seems to favour you is not less involving than touching: it’s a way of interacting that is much more profound and subtle. I felt this and I thank you for this absolute experience.

Emilia: I wanted to be distant but it wasn’t possible…

Mauro: My feet had eyes, the room a grey metal cube reflects the image of a woman who waits in suspense, I suddenly conquer the earth, the ground, to observe her, understand her, enter the game, the back of the hand reveals its palm and the music begins to enter, to enter into me. The distances play at getting up close, the bodies at further away and closer in the dance of music and silence… the stars, observing glimmers of planets in a black sky energizes me, I’m alive, happy, here. Time has no dimension, and never had it, space finishes asking itself questions, bodies roll in an alternance of true fiction and faked reality, evoking, smelling, touching and then reposing on the incessant rythym of the cardiac bass. A tango tries to shut itself into cadenced steps and calculated rythyms, the game of having for oneself, but space doesn’t ask any more questions, time dances with itself… then slackens and vanishes… a rose turns on the motionless carousel… and another caress… the steps I hear are mine… my feet without eyes… my eyes that smile…….. the mind left outside, put to sleep, asks about the game, about fictions that become realities, looking for pretexts of reasoning, demanding, asking. I answer that the spirit of the game and of the young woman is not given to me to know… and I tell her about a journey in a box-grey: “my feet had eyes.

Mauro: One touch, muscles tense, eyes hands above all hands arms legs a few instants of falling in love for life… and roses. Thank you.

Anonymous: I don’t know why, I expected something more complex, conceptual, instead it was good like this… dance and a person who can become a source of inspiration or not… but next time if I enter your space, without the blindfold, please… brava!

Rox: A space full of true things: feelings, emotions, imaginations. A place in which to project, depending on the circumstances, positive and negative parts of oneself. The dancer can become a mirror in which one views the most hidden part of ourselves.

Anonymous: Mauro So how does one write something about this…??

Patrizia: Very stimulating and interesting… I felt it and I had the feeling that I felt myself. It revealed movement that was not only physical… contact that was finally “contact”, neutral yet true and personal. I would like to dance again with her and for longer.