joelle valterio9 artiste, Unwrap the Present, Berne
Post Performance Animal Triste
– Ecrire après une performance, c’est le matin, entre café, miettes et cigarette, se raconter le rêve de la nuit. Un rêve qu’on se serait jamais cru capable de rêver, tu vois, le rêve de quelqu’un d’autre qu’on a rêvé. C’est mentir un peu au fur et à mesure qu’on raconte. C’est lui être infidèle, au rêve et à l’autre. C’est pas grave, mais c’est pas rien non plus. C’est se sentir beaucoup encore un peu absente du réel. C’est s’avouer obstinément vaincue.I didn’t understand a word she was saying but the word “performance”.– Vein Q?She smiles at me and nods.– Yes: vain cul.– So back to my question. And in English please this time: Why do you even write about performance?She has this crazy look she had before when she spoke in French.– Because it makes me hungry.– Angry?– No. Hungry.– What do you mean?– It makes me want more.– More performance?– No not especially performance. Just more. More. More!She barks. And then there is a silence. And then she has this crazy look on her face again and she says:– When I write about performance I am like a dog chasing for a ball too big for his mouth. But I am chasing the ball anyway. Somehow I enjoy the impossibility of ever catching it, the crazy movements I do trying to anyway, fooling myself thinking maybe I could catch it if I find the right angle. It makes me wanting it more and it makes me mad.– So, you are a mad dog?She barks again and says:– Yes, maybe I am mad because of the ball or maybe I am mad to even chase the ball… Anyway. I am a mad dog, writing about performance and chasing for a ball too big for his mouth.
