BRUNO by Alix Eynaudi

This article is still under construction.

Credits

The fellowship of BRUNO is composed of Hugo Le Brigand, Mark Lorimer, Cécile Tonizzo, Alix Eynaudi Costumes An Breugelmans Light design Bruno Pocheron Sound design Paul Kotal

special thanks to Clara Amaral, Samuel Feldhandler, Sabina Holzer

production management mollusca productions for boîte de production

coproduction Tanzquartier Wien, Kaaitheater

residencies MDT Stockholm, Kunstencentrum BUDA

boîte de production is supported by Kulturabteilung der Stadt Wien, BMKOES / Bundesministerium für Kunst, Kultur, öffentlichen Dienst und Sport, ACT OUT, einem Projekt der IG Freie Theaterarbeit, gefördert aus Mitteln des BMEIA, co-funded by the Creative Europe Programme of the European Union through Life Long Burning

thanks to Bears in the Park for the gracious gift of a floor

Annoucement text

BRUNO, a follow spot, an anticipation, a point of dew, an erotic assembly, a blinking dance. À cheval between languages, BRUNO an oscillation, une figure qui disparaît, the displacement of a name, a dance of lights that light and dance: the sensuality of these dances crosses fields of picnics. BRUNO, a literary dance piece, un océan d’amour, a library, a choir, a cut, a pause, un bébé. A meditation, a fling, a house-hole, a house holder, a hold-up of a house. BRUNO strips the writing away from the dance, in chains, in lights, beaming, vaping, a somber extravaganza folded into a room.

BRUNO emerges from the mist like a stranded ship, a sigh left there. It cascades away into a pause. A piece of hole. Something that doesn’t happen. A breeze of what didn’t take place. A haunting. To let ourselves be haunted, to let ourselves be singed, to sigh, together, to stop, to blow, to turn around, to be sad, together. To not do much. To step aside, to let a rumbling moment pass, to weave our thoughts against a break, to nestle inside of a break. To brake, together. To rest, to be absent from an event, together. To caress a thought. To rest, to stay there. To not worry about a flow, to do things in vain. To not write scores, protocols, to wait, to cry, to stop, to not fill, to hold back the filling, to dance next to our shoes. To open a hand and let go, to not hold back, to lighten, to tenderly support, to relieve.

BRUNO is an emanation of a piece without an end, a cloth of friendships, of loves cobbled together. Located in a recently (or perhaps never) uninhabited linguistic space, BRUNO unfurls, unfolds its over-exposures.