We continued with TRAJAL HARRELL / Maggie The Cat, by which we were unanimously underwhelmed. Maybe having read “Cat on a hot tin roof” would have helped. Maybe not. In the meantime we’ll practise our duck-walk …
The anti-climax came in the very end and was provided by MEG STUART / DAMAGED GOODS, supposedly one of the prime performances of the festival. Also the first ever Impulstanz performance I had to leave before the end, because it was so unbearably banal.
Funnily, others felt the same way apparantly (only I don’t stay until the end to “buh” them – the dancers are not responsible for bad choreography or lack of inspiration by the choreographer):
Not surprisingly, the highlight was to be found in what Impulstanz calls “[8:tension] Young Choreographers’ Series”, this time sampled through SOPHIA RODRÍGUEZ / Ostentation Project. 1,5h of pure fabulousness from 23:00-0:30 at Schauspielhaus, complete with life size inflatable jumping castle (with bunny head!) in the end (it’s in the golden bag, believe it or not 😉 ):
Category “hands” to stand for “legs/feet” in this case.
Nicht nur das Tragen, auch das Anfertigen von Hüten ist ein großartiges haptisches Erlebnis, wie ich seit einiger Zeit selbst bezeugen kann.
Wenngleich der Filzhut ja eher ein klassischer Winterhut ist, wie uns Massimiliano damals im Sommer erklärte, als wir seine Werkstatt besuchen durften, und momentan ja nun wirklich keine Wintertemperaturen herrschen, habe ich nun endlich die Zeit gefunden ein bisschen den mad hatter raushängen zu lassen! Diverse frühereAkquisitionen haben die initiale Kollektion von Urgroßvater Johanns Hüten anwachsen lassen, und naja, nun sieht sie so aus:
Filz, Shellack, blauer Architektenhartschaum, lederne Schweißbänder aus NYC, Deko aus diversen etsy-Untiefen und Straußenfedern aus Großbritannien, ein paar Stunden youtube und Arbeit, und schon kann man sich wieder zeigen im Adlon! Vergessen Pandemie und jogging Hosen! Karl Lagerfeld, du darfst wieder stolz sein. Und Josef und Barbara sowieso:
Man muss nicht unbedingt von der rohen Alpaca Wolle starten, obwohl, es geht schon auch: enjoy …
We all known the magic Ruby Slippers which transport Dorothy – who’s been ignorant of their magic powers while wearing them for the better part of her journey – back home at the end of “Wizard of Oz”:
A bit less known might be “The Red Shoes” of Hans Christian Andersen’s 1845 fable of that title, who bear their wearer – not home, but to their doom – ingeniously amalgamed into a ballet-themed movie by Powell & Pressburger in 1948:
Movie-makers of today: watch and learn, is all I can say.
The pope on the other hand (foot!) does not wear Prada, the pope wears Christ:
In yet another inspiring analysis on aeon.co, the question of how one of the oldest technologies of humankind acts as a symbolic foundation for human identity and has both enabled us to explore otherwise unattainable terrain as well as distanced and estranged us from earthly contact (“down to Earth”?) is discussed.
Personally, I prefer a fluffy approach to the ruby slippers. The home office movement has opened the possibility to a “fuck it” attitude towards work day fashion, for example like so:
“Men speaks many different languages, the king said
Children speak only one: the mother language
Mothers don’t speak; they hear
For men don’t know what to say, but this is okay
For older people don’t hear nor do they speak
For having come before, they learned how to see
How to decay, while they observe” 
I am therefor very happy that a centrepiece of that exhibit has found its way into my realm, where it can remind us of the most universal und powerful language of all: silence.
As Juan emphasized back then, the skull is a symbol of life, not of death. As we unearth it, layer by layer, we uncover and discover his-story, auf Deutsch: die Ge-schichte(n). Just as we ourselves are many-layered stacks of stories, some of them lost, some hidden, some fragile and fading, but some strong enough to provide us with a skeleton that supports us for some time.
Which stories will remain?
And those you fear neither Death nor Hell nor the Florence Foster Jenkins of Finnish Tango go back to www.petersch.at and make sure their browser doesn’t block audio autoplay. Qui vit sans folie … (category: Ears) 🙂
 from Juan Arata: “What makes us human? – A model of Migra Tion”, Booklet for Ruberoid Festival 25-26 Sep 2015, ACUD Kunsthaus, Berlin