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FOR A
THEATER
OF THE
BODY
Zerogrammi is that particular state of grace that allows us to see things (from the simplest to the most complex) for what they are, finally intelligible, revealing themselves in their most elementary form, with a weight equal to zero, like the verse of a poem, like music, simple and clear, light but indelible, like certain unconditional and free loves. When this state is achieved, the things of the world become clear, and the feeling that comes from contact with them no longer needs redundant paraphrases, exemplifications, to be communicated. Because, already reduced to the minimum terms, it touches without passing through reason, playing the strings of a universal feeling that unites us all in front of the absolute. This is how I desire the relationship with the spectator : similar to that feeling of understanding and belonging that we perceive in front of the verse of a poem, simple and abstract despite its complexity and concreteness.
It often happens that contemporary choreographic language transcends narration, and that it projects us into a state of questioning where we feel deprived of the knowledge necessary to understand it. An understanding that seems reserved for those few connoisseurs capable of grasping its rhythmic, rhetorical, and metric mechanisms.
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As a choreographer I feel the duty to clarify the purpose of my work and embrace a meaning in which each of my interlocutors can participate, without fearing simplicity and that Calvinian lightness which is moderation, calculation, seriousness, parsimony, concentration, work . Isn't this perhaps the purpose of every form of language?
Not a dance that seems to overflow with interpretations and meanings to chase, but a dance that can aspire to a limpid, clear rhetoric. That of the story , of the narration as well as that of form and color, the poetics of space and time, of a drop of water, of a falling leaf or of a fried egg. The poetics that hides, unexpressed, unrevealed, behind timid, small, circumscribed human actions in which our interlocutor can easily recognize himself, opening up to a space of dialogue and exchange that always generates new points of view that have the value of cracking us, exposing us, changing us by permeating our identity.
Dance, which by its nature opens up to a wider range of interpretations than that suggested by the word, resting on this innate quality, often runs the risk of saying nothing, or gets lost in the multitude of meanings presuming a communicative commitment that in retrospect remains unfulfilled (leaving the spectator with large and inextricable question marks) or, an even more serious condition, is corrupted from within when, reflecting on itself, it loses along the way, incidentally and consciously, the communicative necessity, the urgency, finally deeming the how sufficient, inexorably neglecting the what.