Forgeries, love and other matters

Meg Stuart, Hahn Rowe and Benoît Lachambre all took part in the art scene of New York in the mid-1980es. Since then their ways have crossed at several occasions. With Stuart and Lachambre on stage in the duet Forgeries, love and other matters accompanied y music by Hahn Rowe, the inner and outer geographies of the body are examined, in a reflection over our relationships to each other and the environment surrounding us.

Forgeries, love and other matters by Damaged Goods and par.b.l.eux had its world wide premiere in Zurich May 14 2004.

From the notes of rehearsal, by dramaturge Myriam Van Imschoot, April 25 2004:

"He says space, she thinks time. He says space, she thinks time. He rides the curve, she holds the line. He licks the fur, she points out it is fake. He takes his time, she needs time. He travels deep inside, she skirts the edge. They face the same circumstances. They are stranded. Catastrophe put them together. There is no exit in this piece.

She asks "are we there yet", he is the map. She has been dissecting, he is connecting. Did she hope this would happen, did he realize it occurred? She is interrupting, he is erupting. She is inflicted, he is inflicted. They meet in excess, in silences, in empty slots, in transit, in vain. There is no manual in this piece.

She explores anomaly, he lives the animal. She is a container, he is a receiver. He says no, he wants yes. Did she forge, has he lied? Would she give up, would he give in? They could be campers, drifters, scientists or guinea pigs, humans or animals. They could be a couple, a trio, friends, colleagues or strangers. There is no identity card in this piece.

He may have difficulty learning by heart, she knew she could not forget. He tells his dreams, she recalls childhood memories. He is wondering how desire is constructed, she desires construction. He insists, she resists. They persist. They rely on each other. They are surviving by degrees of love. There is no shame in this piece.

She is mothering, he is brothering. She spills the supplies, he doesn’t ask why. Her creed is waste, he prefers roaming to rummaging. She recycles, he regresses. She accumulates, he saturates. She reinvented herself every five minutes, and so did he. They knew they could switch roles any time. To say the least, they spoke less and less. There are no apologies in this piece.

He says landscape, she reads on the internet on environmental issues. He merges, she emerges. He speaks of multiple bodies, she has been morphing opposites. Her biology is her sociology. Micro-events in him equate her attachment to detail. They practice shaking on a burial ground. Will the repressed rest? They believe in earthquake as a sublime land art. There is no heaven in this piece.

She is sexy, he is sexual. She holds the torch, he is drawn to people who shine. She removes the trace, he moves into trace. She sighs, he yawns. She is picky, he is sticky. Temperature concerns her, he has warmed up for the rest of his life. Her empathy is his telepathy. Has she ever been this close, or is he less distant? They play for real. Little red riding hood eats the wolf. Their geography of intimacy is all recorded. There is no delete buttons in this piece.

He says "it’s ok here". He says "it’s just a bit flooded in there". He says "it’s supposed to work out". He asks "what kind of promise was that?". He feels "it does not make sense". He says he knows his rights. He says he is gonna call his lawyer. She replies "this language does not apply here". There is no one to blame in this piece.

She says "it’s too late". She says "I’ll be right back". She said it one month ago. She says "I like the way you move". She says "this is all useless information anyway". She complains "it doesn’t look like the picture". She says "I want my time back". He answers with delay. There is no linear time in this piece.

They broke down into the smallest units. From there they would seek to unite in new forms of cohesion. Were they looking for a vital geometry? They knew emotion was their focus. The ground was uneven. Experience would lead them. Adaptation was an option. Transformation a fact. Compassion stretched their tolerance. They accommodated change. They could always restart. There is no end in this piece."

-Notes on the rehearsals by Myriam Van Imschoot, April 25 2004.

Source:

BIT Teatergarasjen, Oktoberdans 2004. 23.11.2010: http://www.bit-teatergarasjen.no -arkiv