The piece was selected by our active spectators group, the qARTisans in the frame of the European project, Be SpectACTive! supported by the Creative Europe Programme and National Cultural Fund (NKA).

concept and interpretation:
➀ SPOOKY ACTIONS OF A SPOILED GIRL / Alexandra Balasoiu
➁ REALITY CHECK / Denis Bolborea
➂ BAD MAMMA / Valentina De Piante Niculae

Video projections: Cozlac Andrei
Foto-video: Lavinia Pollak
Sound design: Denis Bolborea
Light design and graphics: Alexandros Raptis

Producer: Indie Box
Supported by Linotip – Centru Independent Coregrafic, Romanian Cultural Institute in Budapest
Cultural project financed by the administration of the Romanian National Cultural Fund. This project does not necessarily represent the position of the Administration of the National Cultural Fund. AFCN is not responsible for the contents of the project or the way its results might be used further on. These issues are entirely the responsibility of the grant beneficiary.

SINGING BODIES’ TRILOGY is a contemporary dance performance in three acts, which encapsulates three choreographers’ sensory and kinesthetic experiences, correlated to the urban environment. It came to being through collective research experiences that did occur both in public space and indoors rehearsal spaces.

➀ SPOOKY ACTIONS OF A SPOILED GIRL ( Alexandra Balasoiu, 50’’)
➁ REALITY CHECK (Denis Bolborea, 40’’)
➂ BAD MAMMA (Valentina de Piante, 40’’)

This performance came to life out of our collective history.
Did you ever wonder: could anybody be the answer to whoever’s question?

➀ SPOOKY ACTIONS OF A SPOILED GIRL (50’’)

I grew up and I have nothing. Yes, no, maybe. Those stories, they go on and on. Sparks, smiles and shouts, hitting down the floor, hiding in ignored seconds – fast, quick, breathless. Oh, dear God, please do not make our meeting be meaningful. Oh, dear God, please spare me from love when love is not what I seek, keep shouts away from me when I’m tired and please don’t always uncover the truth because I do find pleasure to sink in filth, listen to TV commercials and hide at dawn behind curtains. My bags are filled with noise, so nicely illustrated, and I am strong. Nobody knows how heavy they are

Each glance stops somewhere, each breath that I have within emerges from the public space and bounces back into it. Reflecting, arguing, composing. Each of my gestures contribute to the build-up or dismantling of a reference hierarchy. Each of my words enhances or encumbers our speech.

What is it, that you really want?
Did you ever get a chance to question yourself before you answer?

➁ REALITY CHECK (30’’)

Hi, I’m Denis! While you read this, the voice that you hear inside your head is actually mine. Or is it yours?
                              Why don’t you try shouting? Now, whisper________________ What’s the voice intensity, there, in your mind? Now, visualize it, stretched in space. The soundtrack is forever there, but we only get parts of it. Is there a way to rearrange the city’s white noise? Could we, by chance, find a way to up-cycle the environmental noise, by transposing it to another dimension?

Sometimes, the glance reaches no further than the eyelashes and the inner noise overcomes the city voice. Data has to wonder, regardless of our carelessness. We build up, we propagate, we transmutate.

What’s your wave frequency?

➂ BAD MAMMA (40’’)

I’m a stranger in my own body, in my own thoughts, and a stranger to the tongue from a book improperly read. Projections is what I do spit on, as well as lies and fears. Mistakes, done and undone. Sometimes I’m what I wish I were. Being a woman, singer, artist, psychotherapist, this makes me visible. By augmenting perception, I listen to all senses, I become a collection of simultaneous things, I have 4 brains and claws. I try to be at ease with all and everything surrounding me, soul resonates with others’ soul. Let the unconsciousness articulate, breathe throughout the flesh. Viscerally impregnated by all previous meetings’ identities. You, all, others, symbols within me. in this day-night race, where sense of time gets stranded, I shall leave all behind, die, in order to rebirth, in this day-night race of my resonating soul.

How could we accept the unknown to be a part of ourselves, while thinking that we control our lives?
There is no such thing as a zero kilometre. we breathe in an invisible field of emotions, thoughts and sounds.