montréal QC 2017

montréal QC

agora de la danse / november 2017

 

guest artists

catherine lalonde

With a Bachelors degree in Classics, Peter studied dance at the Concordia University Department of Contemporary Dance and the School of the Toronto Dance Theatre. He has distinguished himself as in interpreter and has worked and continues to collaborate with many national and international choreographers and directors. His « choreography » was selected as a top show of the year (La Presse 2006 and Voir 2012, The Montreal Gazette 2016). As well he was recognized for the best performance – (The Hour 2006). His work on the multi media work Norman also received many accolades including an Angel Award at the Brighton Festival UK (2009). Peter continues to define his place as a creator who is invested in work that is sensitive, deeply researched and physically realized. His co-authored article with Thea Patterson “Collaboration as Practice The Winding Road” was presented at the Canadian Society for Dance Scholars Conference 2012. Peter is currently conducting research towards an augmented reality project for Montreal 2020.

 

notes

catherine lalonde

 

Journal Facebook

jour 1

Où je réalise que nous travaillons à créer un flux de conscience (flow) live et collectif; où surgissent des histoires de mains et prédateurs; où l’on apprend à sauter à la corde des pires manières possibles; où les contes de chevaliers ne sont pas les meilleurs legs pour un enfant; où l’on parle du docteur Roger Hobden et des noms, parfois, qui disparaissent des murs.

jour 2

Où l’on parle de chasse à l’écureuil, de l’importance d’une bonne hydratation pour les prostituées et du fait qu’en Inde avant 49 ans on n’est pas considéré comme un adulte. Où l’on court à l’aveugle et se demande s’il faut résister ou fondre aux désirs de composition. Où l’on découvre que sacrer comme un charretier sans pantalons est tout de même moins crédible en terme d’évocation dramatique; où je fais un trou dans mon pantalon tout neuf, et ce n’est pas relié.

jour 3

Le corps est stiff, comme à tous les troisième jours. Peter is being porposely obnoxious et réussit déjà à grimper au plafond. Nous virons cathos puis tentons de nous endormir sur scène — a sunday sleeping practice, a drinking practice, une pratique de l’amitié, a dance practice. Mon obsession des biscuits chipits devient collective (elle sort du studio, déferle jusque dans les bureaux, et Guy en garde une tache comme un stigmate dans le front, qui me déconcentre et m’empêche de l’écouter…). Lin joue à des jeux dont elle n’a pas compris les règles, magnifiquement. Il y a des strangers in the room, et on se fait dire que la dernière traversée is like watching a song. Je suis heureuse. I don’t have to choose in between my babies — écriture danse paroles pensée geste, et le soir avec ma famille, my baby.

jour 4

«I’ve read something in a book by accident», dit Lin. Des accidents de livres des chutes des tornades avalanches de papier des actes de dieu des pommes de route des bagues de mariées — une morte, une vivante. «So there was a book in a book in a book that was an accident with a story inside you wanted to share?» et elle me répond «Yes».

nuit 5 – jour 6

Où je continue les traversées de nuit seule dans mon lit, dans le noir, dans ma tête, dormant à peine. Je recouvre tout le plancher de papier; j’utilise un corps d’homme comme carte géographique, et Vous — vous… — Êtes Ici. Je déchiquète des flocons, je suspends des lés aux murs, je blanchis tout. Je dors sous les sièges des spectateurs. Je me demande pourquoi nous ne nous reniflons pas l’entrejambe comme des chiens pour accélérer la complicité — et je me réponds tout de go. Je me demande quelle est la valeur d’une danse faite entièrement dans la tête, dans le corps de la tête, avec les autres dans la tête, sans être bougée de corps?

jour 8

Femme comme paysage comme architecture comme part mur comme mur muré comme murmurée, comme cloîtrées commes les saintes les saints dans les noms de nos rues, Saint-Denis Saint-André Saint Hubert Laurent Zotique Michel Jacques Antoine.

jour 9

Et le doute, aussi.

jour 10

Première. Et première. Silence.

jour 11

Où dérouler du papier est marqueur de temps, comme le rythme cardiaque ou la lumière du jour; où je bataille hardiment et inutilement pour conserver le fait français sur cette scène de l’Agora; où pour une première fois une grande part du public écrit également («Then do it», me dit Peter, et si ma lutte française est toujours vaine, mon fantasme de récolter les histoires des spectateurs s’incarne); où je me préoccupe de l’effet des courants d’air sur les bas de dos des spectateurs assis par terre et où l’on comprend lors de la discussion post-performance que nous voyageons du présent au passé et du passé au présent, mais jamais dans le futur — car dans le futur, vous n’y êtes pas, Vous n’Êtes pas Ici, avec nous.

jour 12

Où l’on parle de ballet-jazz et de Bob Fosse, où l’on surfe sur plusieurs vagues, où Peter avoue avoir volé une histoire qui n’était pas sienne. Et où un sent qu’il ne reste que demain, et qu’un jour, qu’une traversée.

dernier jour

«Are we trapped in the end?», demande Lin. Oui. Forcément, oui.

////////////////

 

Extrait des écrits en studio

traversée 6

Vibrations d’intimité

in – out

résonnance

secrets – mystère

faith – secret

traversée 7

Des chutes, avalanches Des avalanches collectives effondrements nourris furies fureurs nourries nourries de gestes doux de doux, poussées propulsés par des aimants

Le vestige d’une diva de métal diva d’argent

La Castafiore est myope et sa voix de crécelle

Nous refaisons finalement des jeux d’enfants.

Sleepwalking daydreaming dancing

This is my dream life but I soon as I say so it’s not anymore. Discutez.

It’s evaporating into trails, other ideas.

Untold.

Unwritting.

traversée 8

People

Des gens des amis des signes des marqueurs des politesses des envies

L’ombre de l’ombre l’écho de l’ombre l’écho d’un corps d’une danse d’un jeu de chien jeu de vilain

Écrire à l’aveugle écrire dans l’oeil de la tempête et comment écrire en souhaitant à même temps la bienvenue, comment écrire hôte?

Il va neiger bientôt et nous ne faisons toujours que des p[illisible]

 

notes

guy cools

 

Rewriting Distance

Montréal – November 2017

With Catherine Lalonde and Peter Trosztmer

 

first day

(Miranda’s exercise)

 

L’espace blue hasn’t anything blue in it.

No day light. Presque sans couleurs.

Des monolithes en noir de différentes dimensions.

A Space Odyssee. Les mines de sel à Salzburg.

Il Creto in Gibellina. The Holocaust Memorial in Berlin.

Our first desires: grimper en haut; se cacher; s’enterrer; to break the rules;

To tie ourselves a safety net; to play the edges; the hear the sounds outside;

To scratch the concrete; to push the red button; to hide; to create an intimate space;

Une espace intime d’où on puisse regarder et écouter les autres sans se perdre dans l’immensité

de la cave; cage; se libérer des nœuds.

 

first practice

Hands or Pants?

Keep your hands out of my pants.

Is it good to have no shame?

Or does it make you a sociopath who doesn’t know his borders?

 

Nature or nurture?

How do I acknowledge the animal inside me, channel its energy, without becoming a ‘prédateur’?

 

Girl or boy?

Girl’s names are somehow easier to choose.

All good boys’ names start with a J. Jongleurs au lieu de chasseurs.

 

Grand-maman ou grand-papa?

Elle jouait avec moi sous la table. Lui, il créait des paysages pour mon train Lego.

Ils buvaient et riaient tous les deux sans limites.

 

Ancestors or off-spring?

Being the source or being the outcome.

There is only flow and fascia and jumping cords and umbilical cords and energetic imprints connecting us all.

A laundry line of dirty socks, smelling good!

 

second practice

Lin is perplexed et confus.

L’âge, c’est de la texture.

Therefore you have to continue to moisturize.

Life is not linear, but circular or oblong.

Except when you unroll it like a scroll.

Then it might turn back on you.

I did feel emotional when I embraced Peter.

To feel his accelerated hearth beat.

I had to think of my mother, who was born with a tiny hearth defect,

Which they only discovered in her old age.

It isn’t life threatening but it means she is very quick out of breath.

To follow our desires or to postpone them

Till when it feels more appropriate

Approprié

Prier

Je vous en prie.

Restez naturel, même avec ta peau,

With your skin, wrinkled and loose.

And then he followed his desire and pierced my hearth!

 

third practice

Checking Facts.

Trous Noirs et étoiles.

Swearing.

Godverdomme.

Tabernac.

Throwing.

Soft objects and soft architecture.

Lifting.

Weight is a fact.

Interviewing.

Hostility and tactics to turn the table.

 

Est-ce que j’ose poser la question?

Est-ce que ta réponse va me désorienter?

Est-ce que tu me donne la permission de te poser cette question?

Est-ce que je t’attends jusqu’à que tu es près de me répondre?

 

fourth practice/première traversée

It is always the third day, when things seem to feel heavier that there is a breakthrough:

• The space, accepting us; her fascia enwrapping us.
• We, tuning in to each other and the music of the spheres.
• Discovering how free the conversation can be and still make sense.

 

It is a training of the senses:

• Spying the empty witness chair through a hole in the hornet nest.
• Listening to the musicality of Lin’s voice. Son ri éclatante. While Catherine creates a buzzing rumble around my head.
• Touching and being touched with the paper skin protecting and connecting – une autre tissue connective.
• Hearing my stomach rumble as well.

 

La dignité de la pauvreté de l’artiste.

Avec les édifices comme le Wilder et la fortune de Bill Gates en contraste.

J’aime être dans le sous-sol.

As long as I can go out from time to time and have a nice dinner with friends.

 

deuxième traversée

My dyslectic memory.

Kurat lol poisin. Sjoelbak.

Je masse mon foie and I burp.

Je crache des mots au mi-lieu.

I bleed words. ça coule.

Mon cœur est trop agité.

Until you smear me out.

Chaque traversée, l’espace s’ouvre plus, comme un coquillage dans laquelle je me perle.

Peter: Rhythms of disruption.

 

troisième traversée

The story I take home.

 

Quand mon arrière-tante, Tante Mit venait de décéder, elle m’a laissé la bague de son grand-père. Entre son père et moi, il n’y avait que des filles dans notre famille:

Ma mère

Ma grand-mère

Mon arrière-grand-mère, la sœur juvénile de ma tante

Mon arrière-arrière-grand-mère.

La bague portait son nom et les dates de sa naissance qui remontait jusqu’au début du 19ième siècle.

Il était en or avec une grande pierre carrée, en noir.

C’était un de mes objets le plus précieux.

Et je l’ai perdue à côté du lac Prespes au Nord de la Grèce.

Si ça avait passé quelques années plus tôt, j’aurais eu une rage de folle envers moi-même, en détruisant tous autour de moi.

Mais quand c’est passé, j’étais prêt pour accepter la perte d’un objet, parce que même si c’était précieux, les souvenirs qui me restent de mes tantes, le sont plus.

Ils sont écrits dans un livre dans un autre livre dans un autre livre, qui est mon corps.

 

quatrième traversée

Seven. It is always the tricky one.

Either you come to a center or you are back at the exit of your labyrinth, ready to enter the next one,

More complicated, like a never ending treasure hunt.

Seven times seven until adulthood and then any number of more cycles to solve all the unsolved riddles of your present life.

I went in this afternoon with the strong desire to be quiet and gentle to my body which felt tired, but then who can resist a punk revival or some kinky, silver linings.

So we went on the treasure hunt, found a tree, which turned into an avalanche.

And when it finally was over, I really felt I had to puke.

 

cinquième traversée

I lied down and tried to sleep on stage, but then I had this nightmare of my parents fighting or maybe it were the pirate and his parrot practicing swearing and insults:

• You, fucking asshole.
• Je fais suçoter tes plumes.
• Je brule ta jambe de bois avec des allumettes, trompées dans le sucre.
• Je te pelle tes cacahuètes avec du dentifrice.
• Je te rase ta barbe avec une petite cuillère.

 

Ma gorge. Ta gorge.

Mon espace. Ton espace.

Mes mots. Tes mots.

Ma voix. Ta voix.

Comme le poète aveugle et le père de Lin qui manque d’entendre sa propre voix qui lit.

 

traversée six jusqu’à 10 (les spectacles).

Une avalanche des mots. A word fall of images. Summarized with a couple of words a spectator left on a piece of shredded paper:

Une douce rupture.

Je vais bien.

 

notes

lin snelling

first day

“Perplexed” … this is the perfect word for now.

It means “completely baffled, very puzzled”

 

(so many stories)

 

his story

her story

fascia story

new born story

saint story

skipping story

pant story

hand story

rope story

paper story

writing story

grandmother story

old story

future story

umbilical story

room story

girl story

mad story

sock story

sound story

science story

castle story

 

inside a story

is unborn / born

dying, living

 

these energies are rhythmic

and

inside a mouth

that might,

or might not,

shape them.

 

Short story

 

day two

The way we find and lose a thought

The flow of drama

The beauty of watching someone run

The thrill of being exhausted

The desire to unroll the scroll

 

How a square canvas frame can be tossed into the air

And become a whirring circle,

Landing hard on its edge and possibly dent the floor …

 

… a straight-line curves to a circle,

then an ellipse … swerving into the

lineage of running …

 

all these ages, and all this room,

echos surround us,

sound is colour.

 

day 3

I swear …

 

this

word

on

each

foot

step

is

a

pathway,

why

write

horizontal?

 

I

reach

down

into

the

drama

of

a

page

with

a

vertical

lift   … dive

depending

on

your

approach.

 

perhaps this is another day, hard to tell

The notebook has stopped listing the days …

 

Patterns for Dancing

 

(Dance as if in a roomful of sleepers …)

 

This view of the end

The cabin

Then Peter climbing

To a place he wanted to be

So satisfying ….

 

Dancing while

Guy and Catherine are sleeping   ….

 

Feeling the weight of

Sound while moving …

 

Perplexing question number one,

“if no one is in the witness chair; did anyone see it?”

 

la traversée … passing through

 

The cost of food

And the

Appearance of an urban forager

 

The shells, nests and pathways of paper

 

The very first view today

Catherine inside a scroll

Standing and unrolling

And moving

Backward,

 

It was a page and a movie score

A woman

It was Catherine moving

Back in space

 

Inside

Outside

The conversation

On-going

 

How does one person

Hear another sound? …

The one that is ever present

The rattling

The flag rattling

The scrolling animal

This is snail time

 

The slowness of the dark

And the way the positions

Of this story

Keep shifting

 

The book is dancing

The dance is sleeping

 

The scrolling into

Offers incredible views

Of time

 

(I liked dancing to the rhythm of this voice,

Stopping and starting with its endings and beginnings —

And the middles of sighing)

 

Threading a needle

Letting the tongue fall like a carpet

The room is colour and sound

The eyes

Blink open

Blink close

 

Peter’s thought “the rhythm of disruption”

 

Nashi said “the big universe is in the body”.

 

more writing from an untitled page

 there was a game

I missed the rules

Tried to play it in

A circle,

But the game remains

A secret

The ending is declared …

What was the beginning?

It started before we all

Had gathered,

There was some confusion

That clarified quickly

With the story of a grandmother

And an embrace that

Disappeared

Into Catherine dancing

The drama of

“milieu”

(the place of me)

Is a word

And a place

And a person.

 

How time flies

When you begin at the end

And end in the middle

 

Keep the faith.

 

untitled again

Tea is a beginning, thanks to Peter

Cookies are a middle, thanks to Catherine

 

This view is so satisfying

Guy takes the desk out

Places the book

Some pencils, crayons

Then his glasses, on the desk

 

Then walks backwards into the pile of paper

And falls down into it.

 

Catherine takes the witness chair

And places it close

To Guy in the pile

And then Guy rolls into / closer to her.

 

She sees from this place his hand

And his wedding ring …

“by somebody do you mean us?”

 

Then Peter walks directly

To the desk and begins to write …

His is not looking at Guy and Catherine

They are having an intimate conversation

Guy is standing now,

Rolling his foot on a piece of cardboard

Resembling the action of a foot massage

 

“put your heart in your foot”
Don’t speak the story

That “they” aren’t ready for …

By “they” do you mean us, or me?

 

The painting is a comedy of a cock and pussy.

With bright colours

Some people like to watch

The witness chair,

Kinky.

 

another page from somewhere

And I do have a vague memory

Of flying a parchment paper kite

In a turbulent story

My faith in fascia

Gives me courage to believe

Without ever know why.

 

The edge of placing a chair on top of a desk,

Inverting a hierarchy to become a sculpture

It’s an accident

Of electricity

And the way a man, is that me?

Or a woman,

Is that her?

Dissolves binaries to betweens …

The quiet of a hand

The words of silence

Eyes that shame …

 

A dance so gentle

What is an undance?

What is guilty dancing?

 

My arms go up in the air …

Am I innocent?

 

What is the crime

Of a pirate, …

A book with a story?

 

2^nd ½-hour practice

Finally, a song has come along

I am an anarchist opera siren,

Singing into tin foil

Warning the sailors

And following the lyrics

 

To a story with

No beginning

Sounds of ravelling and unravelling,

Piling and unpiling

Throwing and whirling

Climbing and handing

With glasses

Captured into a painting

Suspending into

The book with the

Left behind markings

That bring Cy Twombly to mind

All these retro painters

Retro songs

Going back into

This labyrinth

“it’s a walk into a treasure trail”

An image of things going up,

Paper travelling up

Against the black of the wall …

Swearing into a microphone

Of paper,

How many different ways can we

Re-invent amplification?

 

These are quotes and I do not know who said them …

 

“the feeling of movement/people changing lights, atmospheres”

 

“I love the way Peter ties knots into a line of knots”

 

“the writing table would like to write more”

 

This quote I know,

 

“in the broadest sense, the drawings have an imprint character” Joseph Beuys.

 

This one too,

“la main n’est que le prolongement de la sensibilité et l’intelligence.” Henri Matisse

 

Drawing is dancing.

 

from another page with no title

Why was the white crayon there?

The one we were not to write with,

And will it come off the wall?

 

When are the marks

Permanent?

 

(when my dad went blind … he missed the sound of his own voice

reading)

 

Walking a scroll

Going for an unrolling

Needing (wait) for the ends (wait)

It’s a “stop” thing …

 

Is anything a “stop” thing?

 

Andrew Simms in The Guardian

“in campaigning for change, the art of storytelling has too often been replaced with a reliance on facts.”

 

notes

peter trosztmer

 

rewriting distance –

 

#1

It feels really good to watch someone

run for a long time – It feels really

good to feel you breathe.

It seems that the fountain of youth

is the young… and it costs a lot so it

is only for the rich.

#2

The opening sets the stage

running and holding

light and shadow

shapes.

Desire – wishes – things to work

on – SET YOUR Desire on the

stage on the wood add your desires.

 

You cannot have your cake and eat it.

– It is really nice to have friends

 

propositions

are proposed

are accepted

are rejected are…

Moisture and ageing. Apparently

it is not good to put your coffee

grounds down the sink.

 

Back to running

staying alive –

You need to run to

stay alive – You

need to be able to get

off the floor without

using your hands… You need

to be able to catch a pencil

to get old.

 

don’t

scratch the floor

unless you are adjusting

the lighting.

 

I enjoy to say unroll the scroll.

I would like to remember to speak more

in other languages.

#3

What is what is What is. What is

a fact   a feeling   a false

I don’t understand (estonian)

J’ai mis mon corps sur le papier

J’ai mis le papier autours de mon corps.

J’aime ta petite jupette.

 

Catherine est un journaliste qui est capable d’utiliser les esti mauvais mots.

C’est vraiment bon que Guy m’a mis sur son épaule.

 

Why did it

wait to happen   to arrive

once I put on my shirt.

 

Drawing is dancing

Drawing is writing

It is always good to change

the lights.

 

I made Lin swear 9 years ago.

#4

natural desire to find meaning

#5

don’t check your facts?

It still sometimes feels

good to dance.

 

– I am sad I no longer

need to. hang from the pole

 

my pen

 

Sleep.

#6

– I started before we were supposed

to…

– I wanted to be sure to have

my way so I started

I imagined I ran to the table – did not want it.

– Rope is useful in this

room and this room is where

we are. I now hear more

sound. Je pense que les

lumières augmentent le niveau du

son.

 

Peut-être ça change le fascia

de la chambre, la connectivité

des vagues de son… qui

étaient le fascia.

 

J’ai touché le visage

de Guy – il a touché mon

foie

 

Je pense que Catherine a eu le

meilleur plan pour lancer la table

le rythme of disruption

#7

– Who is in the witness chair?

 

– If there is too much

discord I am frightened

that there will our

power,   our ability,

the possibility of focus.

 

Dramatic – theographic

cliché.

 

This is a nice pen.

 

– Memory –

#8

New York performance artist who goes

too far and just keeps going – she

wears a wig and does a web series

kind of thing   character named

Cherry.   I find it hard to keep going

 

– I still don’t know what Lin’s story

was –

– When we use the vertical space   I feel like

I am expanding or stretching my radius

my vibration, the connective tissue of

the room – the funk and spook of

our environment.

 

– Listening to the sound of my writing

the sound of my drawing – trying

to draw something offensive.

 

I could not hear what Catherine

was saying over the sound of my pencil writing –

 

I should really try to spend some

time in the witness chair and while I

am at it   I could try to arrive a little

earlier

#9

The baking paper is precious, It

takes pencil and marker and

pastel   but not pen.

 

My desire to make the lance w

the roll was fulfilled right away

and therefore was no more.

 

I like it a lot when I am prevented

or called out or… It is just another

form of attention and the lion likes

the sun to shine

 

Building blocks and cards with

ribbons, small dots moving around

changing things.

#10

Piled up, supporting

tandem, duet, Bicycle built for

two –

 

Shiny sparkles   fish that

bite and flap

cannot see w out my

glasses – shiny skirt and dress

 

Treasure trail 1 2   1234. clean

and be cleaned.

Guy and Lin are punk

Rock.

MICKEY MOUSE.

Religious vomit.

 

Things that fly through the

AIR.

#11

I remember an attraction to

the lights and the big rolls but

no great desire to take them

 

Lights   Big rolls of Paper

Darkness, Sound,   many changes

lost track of sound

Lost track of activity

Lost track   over and over

Can not stay on tracke.

Crumple – gentle – sleepy – cold

Chalk, charcoal, dance, body

 

You are not supposed to draw

on wall,   you should not

use the charcoal.

 

excited     and want to

climb the walls.

 

Catherine and I need to

wrestle.

 

Hugs, shave lift

lance

 

ingrown hair.

#12

I think that a pencil is better

for the back side of the page

I think that cursive writing is

much like walking. I don’t do

enough.

#13

You are not heard the same

and it is not what you say but

rather just what you are.

It’s day 1 and we need to get

this stuff out. – I think that

it’s good to see what’s there

_________________________________

classical stories always involve

the killing of something you love

and eventual martyrdom.

____________________________________

You can cut an umbilical

cord w your teeth – and

perhaps you should – the

naked body is the right place

for the newborn to lay.

___________________________________

Guy Cools is not ashamed of

anything.

It is fun to make a

mess.

It is fun to have four things

 

The big beam at the back

is crooked –

– a crisis can make you

stop choreographing.

– I think it is better to

be late than miss this

part of the process.

– who are we talking to ?

– what are the positions ?

are we performing for anyone?

– throwing, playing games

is pleasurable.

We will get over our addiction.

#14

hands   sounds   like pants

Nature vs. Nurture

Fascia theory – collective

tissue.

#15

There remain several sheets

of white paper – sheets of

white sheets of white – we

woke this morning around 9:30

not much happened – made bacon

and eggs – w home fries –

Susie did some writing and

I did the breakfast prep.

It feels really good to write

like this. I have not enjoyed seeing

my thoughts like this on paper.

I am not sure that I have a

closing ceremony myself – I just

carry more and more as I move

forward. It is like collecting

scars from battle – if that can

make sense – there is nothing bad

to it, it is simply a way of

putting one thing on another –

and seeing as they are all people

and memories that I wish to keep.

Even if thay are memories that

mean much to me   I think

that they can become lost.

the thought of warming up the

body or warming up the voice

or of warming up the mind.

It feels staged to speak in

Estonian – I must ja valge – I think that I

will think about who I am

and what I am

What is writing and what

does it have to do with me

I want a new head shot –

I would like to have a head

shot – I need a shot in my

head – I felt like I started

yesterday, my foot my foot is

here in this chapter of the

way way way out here

 

Flintstones, Jeffersons, how my

people are here today with us in

this play that we are

seeking out – hospitality is

the number one reason for

hosting.

#16

If you take the time for

hospitality   you can find your

way back in the reference

points of the finger tips.

– we have yet to change

the set up to reflect

or use this couloir here.

– It is my hope that I

do not start this this this

time. – it is a super exciting

way to go.

 

-what is love – what is

love for – how do we bring

closure or how do we keep

things alive – I can spend time

together and I can spend time

apart   but it is difficult to know

how to deal w all at once.