Closer To Everything
Linnea Martinsson and Andrea Csaszni Rygh, recidency and showing at Moderna Dansteatern, 2012.
A show that belongs to the future, and a future that longs for everything. By Linnéa Martinsson and Andrea Csaszni Rygh
X-faktor — star quality, the thing you can’t put your finger on. It’s the unexplainable attraction, the magic you feel when you meet someone special; it’s when you see a performance and all you can say afterward is oh my god. It’s the combination of clothes that makes your stomach tickle. It’s the glimmer in the eyes that gives you goosebumps. It mesmerizes you and puts you in a state where you are vulnerable and ready for injection.
Passion — strong emotion that drives you. It’s pure engagement without reflection: you want something and you do it, or you keep it inside, waiting. Passion comes and goes. It’s all the things you would like to do on a stage but don’t always have a reason to. Your passion does not necessarily interest anyone else, but it can engage others in unexpected ways. There are few limitations to what and how one feels passion. The motorbike dude, for instance, can experience passion toward his bike—driving away into something like freedom, a sense of detachment, and true happiness.
Everything — this generation is not easily satisfied. We want to be and do everything. We don’t identify with a profession; we are no longer what we do, especially when we change our working titles every other week. We want to be a part of everything, and we want everything to be a part of us. We are lost, and the possibilities are endless. Everything is the way we see the world; we embrace everything in order to find happiness. We believe that we can do anything, and will do so until the day we die. Everything is a way to understand the present world—its chaos and limitlessness. It is a tool for survival. We use the “everything” of our minds to make the mystical visible.
2012: End of the World — Is/was the year of life-changing events, hangouts, love crises, happy endings, reading half of books, realizing this is the last chance to do everything we ever wanted. It’s time to make a performance as if it were the last one—which it is—without holding back even the slightest. So that if we ever survived yet another End of the World, maybe the sense of urgency or sacrifice the performance offers would put us in an unrecognizable state. Because what do you do when you don’t have long to live? You change your haircut, you leave your boring marriage, you set hearts on fire, you refuse chit-chat and boring conversations, and you don’t waste time trying to convince anyone about anything anymore. You do.
This gives us a reason to massacre all our desires to be on stage in front of our closest lovers: the audience. Fearless but full of fear, we celebrate and dismiss performance at the same time. Fast and furious — forever yours — until the end.
