I like that it’s windy today. Stark dark gusty with drapes of light shadow. Probably just clouds. fleetingly. just night. My windows would borrow the shape of it and winddown’n the blows. Whispa whistling. Went out a couple of times. To buy some hair conditioner, tomatoes.. yes, sometimes life support means .. just tomatoes. Next to the packs of buffala, this was the only thing missing in my bare fridge today. Outside. To send a postcard. Stepping into the windflow my hair all over. Smelling the road, the transparent afterrain. This feeling … of openness, cuts in the material of the day, masses of air slit apart to allow some form of alter-thought, of stepping out of the shell.. how do you call it.. shellpingout?.
Saturday 14th Nov. Woke up around 9 after some dream hassle around my twenties’ good friends.. re-invoking their presence somehow, travelling with them, past some ol’love. Maybe a subconscious overlapping of my fresh-into life years 15 markers back with my re-encounter with Lucas and Amy last weekend. Reliving layers of a former me with them, of our common past 1.5 years ago and of my own back before back. Yes… a full party last weekend, throwing me into a realm of relentless young utopia. A beautiful one.
Today a type of fast bulks of haze and rain stitched me to, into and around the bed. Wavering between wanting to edit my probably best day of film in the LFF festival and re-watching some dance treasures I keep scattered around my bed. Like the Sacre de Printemps rehearsals dvd with Pina. Ended up diving into youtube and discovering new stuff on dance, sharing some of it.
Befitting though I thought. As that day in October, that 8th day of London Film Fest was about dance, a dance OF life and one ABOUT life. And of course death, but with a sense of supraviving not just surviving. In both films. Poetically more so in the second, emphatically bold, imaginative and fervorously
sensual in the first, that I almost refused to reintegrate back into any other self after that.
Am not sure how.. but the news about the Paris violence slithered into my reality. Though I stubbornly kept the avalanche of media away. Gave in to it only in the evening. But folded my mind out of it and bent into this need of motion, a flight demeanour. A… spent about an hour and a half today trying to figure out a way to see a piece by Crystal Pite, to catch her live wherever she’d be staging something this weekend. Victoria, BC turns out to be… hence me checking the visa conditions, the process, the flighhh ahhh.. the other side of Canada.. Vancouver.. damn! Stuck here. Back to virtual dance.
A short walk around the Katherine Docks, set my mind to turn to that statue in front of waitrose and catch that melting HEART between the two figures. I often ride home circling them, and turning my eye so that I see that shape slide in and out of the couple.
14 Oct – BFI London Film Festival 2015 8th day
18:15 Mr Gaga by Tomer Heymann
Scriu la fel. Aceleasi cuvinte. Ori acum exact asta se schimba. Imi vin cuvinte mari in minte, dar ar trebui sa… respir. sa ma ridic si sa ma misc. Awaringly. sau sa iubesc. Mult!
Ar trebui sa reduc din forme. O remarca, a lui Ohad. About how a particular dancer needs to expand inside. Almost like explode I would chose to say, “but change nothing in the way you move”. Dance with that feeling!
A film about the harrowing poetry of life. Drawn out very close to that knock-you-in-the-chest poem I came across this summer:
Passionate! A maddening string of souls come and pass through this narrow alley of his choreographies. A raw creative impulse turning slowly, painfully into something more. As their life grows. There are pulses, understanding, discovering sense in much more than just the move, but how it weaves ideas into you. One of those films that makes you wanna turn your life around and live, really live!
I kept thinking of Gorgeus’ girls, of our group here, how we could build together a play, a rhythm of words. My mind reeled back to the idea the song “Do You Feel It” by Joe Cuba Sextet gave me. To take that rhythm, get either Ducsa, or me or the girls to come up with a text and rap on that rhythm. And then I veered into more complex story telling, acting. I do need to take 2Door out to see dance like this. Next time I see them I need a plan to change the game into this sort of stuff with them too.
Back to the film: A story twist in the beginning. Of Ohad actually having an autistic twin who he could only relate to and break into through dance. A strong metaphor.
I thought of it straight off as an unexpected way to resonate to himself and understand more. In the end the story proves its true identity. Unexpected. Painful but liberating, life enhancing story. He’s one of the guys I’d take classes with, for more feel to what and who I am. Where do I move and why. Self awareness.
Thought ofYas well.
The sanguine moments, the fall for each other, especially in the scene of Mari (Kajiwara) and Ohad dancing together,
curving under one another, then clinging and rising back to fall into the other’s arms. The rush with which she would run for him. Both. Then how a life like this would be like if we kept that energy alive and created ourselves that way, especially if we remained attached to dance that much, in that way.
A personal journal/essay film by a very creative mind. She’s a performance artist, composer, musician . Speaks lyrically and is very much about herself. Even when filming landscape (which she does a lot), waves, raindrops, or the amazing natural fractals of naked tree branches over a strange sky. A poem of living. Overcoming death. A map to herself. Very experimental. Reminded me of The Lipsett Diaries. The way graphics and reality weave together.
So much water in her film. Wanted to ask about that. A lot of feeling and the dog story line eventually used as a metaphor to a sort of an inner child that defies death.
A lot of questions derived from the film. Had a nice talk with two older ladies who sat next to me. After the film. About it. To my right sat a very beautiful Russian girl. She looked Russian, we didn’t talk, I just observed her and her long fingers on and off.
In mountaineering/tracking gear. Was partly mesmerised by having her next to me touching elbows and feet accidentally but barely watching her, that this feeling transferred onto the film. And the onscreen experience began to be more of a personal one to me too, as it identified a lot of silent loves/memories of love/memories of memories of love. Changes in how I am. Over the years.
I’ll see this film again when it comes out in March. Definitely. At least for the versatility of visual expression, for her storyability skills of all kind.
Left the evening echanted. Took my time before going to sleep. The best film day of the whole festival so far. Felt myself again. How I want to be. Beyond comfortable numbness. On the true side of the wall. I felt free again!