Camille Desmarest, Greenwich Train Station One month has now passed since I have been postponing writing some lines about the performances I did for Silent Cacophony. I think it is enough waiting. I am still not sure what I have been waiting for, which sort of revelation I thought would happen to me? Practising writing anyway, I did write some notes straight after the performances, trying to capture some snapshots of what just happened. I was trying to put down the specificity of the dancing that had just happened, and how very different it was from the previous one. Each of them had its own characteristics, like family members, all different, but with a resemblance. Non-chronological random extracts:
“Felt stuck. Looking for my movements. I didn't know how to move anymore. Cramps at the worse moment.”
“The very first performance felt like someone is offering you a meal, but taking the cutlery away. I had a dance to do, but nobody to make it come to life. I felt surprised that I wasn’t able to do what I was meant or planned to.”
“High concentration makes me stable.”
“I felt like a tracked animal.”
“Dazzling sun. Full and empty space”.
“Everytime has been 30 mins to go. 10 mins to go. 5 mins to go. 1 min to go. And go. This very micro second before going “on stage”.”
“So it happened. Light Sunday, very peaceful and bright. No time. Monday: loaded and heavy. The air was charged and dense. Yellowish atmosphere by the end of the day. Humid and cold and rain.”
“More struggle. I accepted. It was what it was. This piece imposes itself on me more than I try to fight against it or to make something else out of it.”
“Each piece felt like a long walk where there is no option but to just put one foot in front of the other. Stop-less. And again. And again. It was like a long story you're telling once more. And once more. And another time. It was like diving in a pool for a swim. You are doing the same movements all the time but things evolve over time and you get out of the water in a different place you got in. And you go back in again.”
Although I am used to doing something over and over, I am amazed by how different it still is everytime, and how much it can vary from one time to another. If I concentrate, I can remember each performance precisely, its atmosphere and how it felt in the moment. But thinking generally about The Inhibition of Action, all the performances together have merged into one long dance, with different parts and intermissions. Silent Cacophony has become quite a big folder: several people, sketchbooks, photographs, drafts soundtracks, texts, videos...some lively material I am still dealing with. I like multi-aspects events, generating different outcomes. Silent Cacophony is still not entirely finished for me.