Goli odziv / Naked response 2022
Intro: Ponovna srečanja
Rdeča nit letošnjega Golega odra so bližine in povezave. Če je lanskoletna edicija festivala izražala nujo po ohranjanja prostorov, kjer se srečujemo, vztrajanju pri živem kontaktu in o-hranjanju kulture izražanja, kotičkov za diskurz ter priložnost za odziv, se letos potapljamo v intenziteto naših srečanj.
Ko takole pomislim na čas, ki je minil od razhoda na lanskem in ponovnega srečanja na letošnjem festivalu, si tudi sama ne morem kaj, da ne bi razmišljala o odnosih. Kdo so ljudje, ki jih srečam izključno na festivalu Goli oder in kdo tisti, s katerimi ohranjam stik tudi v medčasju festivala.
Prazniki, rituali, festivali so posebno dobra priložnost za refleksijo. Zato se festivala vedno znova veselim. Kot neodprtega pisma ali pikic še neprispelega sporočila, ki jih piše oseba, ki ti je všeč in upaš, da te bo v naslednjem mehurčku, ki se nariše na zaslonu, povabila na pivo in ocvrt krompirček. Ti se v času do dogovorjenega srečanja sprašuješ kako se boš počitil_a, ko boš s to osebo sedela za mizo, kar ponuja priložnost za nov vrtiljak čustev.
Festival pa to ne naredi sam, to naredijo improvizatorji, skupnost, ki se vedno znova gradi in razkraja, vse obenem. Je živa snov, ki se iz leta v leto spreminja. So spoznanja o sebi in trenutki, ko preprosto sobivamo (v vsej svoji raznolikosti). Ker je srž improvizacije trenutek in minljivost le-tega, se včasih vendarle zdi nujno oprijeti niti, po kateri se kot snovalci orientiramo, ko skušamo razumeti kaj je med nami.
Čar Golega odra pa niso le predstave, ki nastajajo, marveč tudi gledalci, gledalke in obodrske aktivnosti. To so drobne puhaste dlačice, ki jih ni moč osvetliti z reflektorji, a so vendarle pripoznan sopotnik festivala. Vse od organizacijskih, aranžerskih, fotografskih, mentorskih in pisateljskih veščin pa tudi kondicije, da, ob koncu festivalskega dne, ponoči peš odneseš vrečico organskih odpadkov do centra Ljubljane, v kanto, ki ti je pač na poti (domov).
Veselim se teh srečanj.
Tanja Matijašević,
gola odzivnica
Ko takole pomislim na čas, ki je minil od razhoda na lanskem in ponovnega srečanja na letošnjem festivalu, si tudi sama ne morem kaj, da ne bi razmišljala o odnosih. Kdo so ljudje, ki jih srečam izključno na festivalu Goli oder in kdo tisti, s katerimi ohranjam stik tudi v medčasju festivala.
Prazniki, rituali, festivali so posebno dobra priložnost za refleksijo. Zato se festivala vedno znova veselim. Kot neodprtega pisma ali pikic še neprispelega sporočila, ki jih piše oseba, ki ti je všeč in upaš, da te bo v naslednjem mehurčku, ki se nariše na zaslonu, povabila na pivo in ocvrt krompirček. Ti se v času do dogovorjenega srečanja sprašuješ kako se boš počitil_a, ko boš s to osebo sedela za mizo, kar ponuja priložnost za nov vrtiljak čustev.
Festival pa to ne naredi sam, to naredijo improvizatorji, skupnost, ki se vedno znova gradi in razkraja, vse obenem. Je živa snov, ki se iz leta v leto spreminja. So spoznanja o sebi in trenutki, ko preprosto sobivamo (v vsej svoji raznolikosti). Ker je srž improvizacije trenutek in minljivost le-tega, se včasih vendarle zdi nujno oprijeti niti, po kateri se kot snovalci orientiramo, ko skušamo razumeti kaj je med nami.
Čar Golega odra pa niso le predstave, ki nastajajo, marveč tudi gledalci, gledalke in obodrske aktivnosti. To so drobne puhaste dlačice, ki jih ni moč osvetliti z reflektorji, a so vendarle pripoznan sopotnik festivala. Vse od organizacijskih, aranžerskih, fotografskih, mentorskih in pisateljskih veščin pa tudi kondicije, da, ob koncu festivalskega dne, ponoči peš odneseš vrečico organskih odpadkov do centra Ljubljane, v kanto, ki ti je pač na poti (domov).
Veselim se teh srečanj.
Tanja Matijašević,
gola odzivnica
Goli odziv / Naked response 2021
Intro: Festival. Ja, in?
Pozdravljen_a tako ljubitel_ica impra,
kot tudi ti, ki si pripravljen_a tej performativni obliki dati priložnost prvič.
Kot ljubiteljica dolgih formatov, se vsakič znova veselim programske pestrosti, ki jo nudi Goli oder, mednarodni festival improvizacijskega gledališča, ki nam bo letos že petnajstič serviral raznolikost pod skupnim imenovalcem improvizacije. Zaradi koronskih razmer smo ga čakali kar leto dni dlje kot sicer. Letos se, v nekoliko bolj domači zasedbi, vendarle odvija na način kot smo ga vajeni - v živo.
V času, odkar smo si imeli_e možnost ogledati predstave zadnjega festivala (leta 2018), se zdi, da je improvizacija postala še nujnejši element vsakdana. Znotraj skupnosti pa so, kot posledica zaprtja gledališč, vzcveteli razni nalinijski formati, ki so vendarle ustvarjali priložnosti, da se improvci_ke srečamo, igramo, delamo naprej in ustvarjamo podporno okolje v World Wide Webu, sproti pa razmrežimo umetnost improviziranja med vse geeke ali redne uporabnike socialnih omrežij, ki se iz različnih razlogov zadržujejo v tam. Improvizatorji_ke so uporabljali različne načine, s katerimi so skušali_e prebijati četrto steno in v svoje predstave vključiti ostale prebivalce_ke internetnega sveta. Največkrat se je to dogajalo v obliki pisane besede t.j. komentarjev, drugi_e spet so pred predstavo zbirali_e sporočila, nekateri so z dovoljenjem dotične_ga vključili v svoj show instagram profile ali pa celo ponudili dodatno okence na enkranu za tehnično usposobljeno osebo, ki si želi postati del virtualne izkušnje.
Sčasoma so se nekateri performerji_ke naveličali doprsnega impranja, drugi_e pa so razvijali nove formate za spopadanje z 2D okoljem, tretji_e spet so vztrajali pri miselnosti, da improvizacijsko gledališče brez žive publike in soigralcev_k enostavno ni za njih. Kakorkoli že, spremembe so del ustvarjalnega procesa, ta pa nas je pripeljal nazaj v javen prostor. In zdaj smo spet tu: na odru, pred odrom, ob odru žive festivalske izkušnje.
Obogatena z občutki vezane na te nore čase, se letos še posebej veselim živih teles v skupnem prostoru in opazovanja interakcije med njimi. Kot del impro publike pa vedno znova rada raziskujem lasten proces in prav po Sherlockovsko ugotavljam, v katerem momentu so me performerji_ke najbolj vpeli v predstavo. Kot ponosna rezidentka virtualnih kotičkov te s pisano besedo vabim v podaljšek predstav, ki s pomočjo tehnologije vstopa skozi virtualne prostore nazaj v fizična telesa. Če bo katera od zapisanih misli ostala s tabo, vedi, da je prišla iz skupnosti, ki jo imenujemo mednarodni festival gledališke improvizacije - Goli oder.
Za vse geeke_ice, gejmerje_ke, naključne ali občasne prebivalce_ke virtualij bomo svoje letošne vtise delile gole odzivnice: Eva Jus, Nina Vombergar, Špela Setničar, Tina Tomšič, Corinne Brenko in
Tanja Matijašević,
koordinatorica Golega odziva.
kot tudi ti, ki si pripravljen_a tej performativni obliki dati priložnost prvič.
Kot ljubiteljica dolgih formatov, se vsakič znova veselim programske pestrosti, ki jo nudi Goli oder, mednarodni festival improvizacijskega gledališča, ki nam bo letos že petnajstič serviral raznolikost pod skupnim imenovalcem improvizacije. Zaradi koronskih razmer smo ga čakali kar leto dni dlje kot sicer. Letos se, v nekoliko bolj domači zasedbi, vendarle odvija na način kot smo ga vajeni - v živo.
V času, odkar smo si imeli_e možnost ogledati predstave zadnjega festivala (leta 2018), se zdi, da je improvizacija postala še nujnejši element vsakdana. Znotraj skupnosti pa so, kot posledica zaprtja gledališč, vzcveteli razni nalinijski formati, ki so vendarle ustvarjali priložnosti, da se improvci_ke srečamo, igramo, delamo naprej in ustvarjamo podporno okolje v World Wide Webu, sproti pa razmrežimo umetnost improviziranja med vse geeke ali redne uporabnike socialnih omrežij, ki se iz različnih razlogov zadržujejo v tam. Improvizatorji_ke so uporabljali različne načine, s katerimi so skušali_e prebijati četrto steno in v svoje predstave vključiti ostale prebivalce_ke internetnega sveta. Največkrat se je to dogajalo v obliki pisane besede t.j. komentarjev, drugi_e spet so pred predstavo zbirali_e sporočila, nekateri so z dovoljenjem dotične_ga vključili v svoj show instagram profile ali pa celo ponudili dodatno okence na enkranu za tehnično usposobljeno osebo, ki si želi postati del virtualne izkušnje.
Sčasoma so se nekateri performerji_ke naveličali doprsnega impranja, drugi_e pa so razvijali nove formate za spopadanje z 2D okoljem, tretji_e spet so vztrajali pri miselnosti, da improvizacijsko gledališče brez žive publike in soigralcev_k enostavno ni za njih. Kakorkoli že, spremembe so del ustvarjalnega procesa, ta pa nas je pripeljal nazaj v javen prostor. In zdaj smo spet tu: na odru, pred odrom, ob odru žive festivalske izkušnje.
Obogatena z občutki vezane na te nore čase, se letos še posebej veselim živih teles v skupnem prostoru in opazovanja interakcije med njimi. Kot del impro publike pa vedno znova rada raziskujem lasten proces in prav po Sherlockovsko ugotavljam, v katerem momentu so me performerji_ke najbolj vpeli v predstavo. Kot ponosna rezidentka virtualnih kotičkov te s pisano besedo vabim v podaljšek predstav, ki s pomočjo tehnologije vstopa skozi virtualne prostore nazaj v fizična telesa. Če bo katera od zapisanih misli ostala s tabo, vedi, da je prišla iz skupnosti, ki jo imenujemo mednarodni festival gledališke improvizacije - Goli oder.
Za vse geeke_ice, gejmerje_ke, naključne ali občasne prebivalce_ke virtualij bomo svoje letošne vtise delile gole odzivnice: Eva Jus, Nina Vombergar, Špela Setničar, Tina Tomšič, Corinne Brenko in
Tanja Matijašević,
koordinatorica Golega odziva.
Intro: Festival. Yes, and?
Hello to improv fan and to you who are ready to give this performative form a chance for the first time!
As a fan of long improve formats, I was always drawn to what Goli oder/Naked stage, an international festival of improvisational theater, has to offer. This year’s edition will serve us diverse improv shows for the fifteenth time already. Due to the corona conditions, we waited for it a year longer than usual. This year, in a slightly more homely line-up, it takes it’s usual live form.
In the time since we had the opportunity to see the performances of the last festival (in 2018), improvisation seemed to have become an even more necessary element of everyday life. Within the community, because of the closure of theaters, various "online formats" flourished, which nevertheless created opportunities for improvisers to meet, play, work on and create a supportive environment on the World Wide Web, while distributing the art of improvisation to users of social networks who stay on the Internet for various reasons.
The improvisers used various means to try breaking down “the fourth wall” and involving other residents of the Internet world in their performances. Usually it happened in the form of a written word such as comments between or messages before the show. Some included (by permission of users) Instagram profiles or even offered an additional box on the screen for a technically qualified person who wanted to become part of the virtual experience.
Eventually, some performers got tired of upper body (bust) improvisation, others developed new formats to deal with the 2D environment better, and some insisted on mentality improvisational theater without a live audience and live actors was simply not for them. Either way, the changes are a part of the creative process and have brought us all back to the public space. Here we are again: on stage, in front of the stage, next to the stage in live festival experience with audience.
Enriched with feelings tied to these “crazy times”, this year I am especially looking forward to living bodies in a public space and observing the interaction between them. As part of the improv audience, I always like to explore my own process affected by the show. After it ends, I Sherlock myself on detecting the moment performers hooked me to the show. Alternatively, if they did not, search where the reasons lie.
As a proud resident of virtual corners, I will invite you in a written word to the extension of the performances, which, with the help of technology, enters back into physical bodies through virtual spaces. If any of the written thoughts stay with you, know the Naked Stage festival inspired them.
For all geeks, gamers, random or occasional residents of virtuals, impressions of this year's Naked stage will be shared by Eva Jus, Nina Vombergar, Špela Setničar, Tina Tomšič, Corinne Brenko and
Tanja Matijašević,
Naked response Coordinator
As a fan of long improve formats, I was always drawn to what Goli oder/Naked stage, an international festival of improvisational theater, has to offer. This year’s edition will serve us diverse improv shows for the fifteenth time already. Due to the corona conditions, we waited for it a year longer than usual. This year, in a slightly more homely line-up, it takes it’s usual live form.
In the time since we had the opportunity to see the performances of the last festival (in 2018), improvisation seemed to have become an even more necessary element of everyday life. Within the community, because of the closure of theaters, various "online formats" flourished, which nevertheless created opportunities for improvisers to meet, play, work on and create a supportive environment on the World Wide Web, while distributing the art of improvisation to users of social networks who stay on the Internet for various reasons.
The improvisers used various means to try breaking down “the fourth wall” and involving other residents of the Internet world in their performances. Usually it happened in the form of a written word such as comments between or messages before the show. Some included (by permission of users) Instagram profiles or even offered an additional box on the screen for a technically qualified person who wanted to become part of the virtual experience.
Eventually, some performers got tired of upper body (bust) improvisation, others developed new formats to deal with the 2D environment better, and some insisted on mentality improvisational theater without a live audience and live actors was simply not for them. Either way, the changes are a part of the creative process and have brought us all back to the public space. Here we are again: on stage, in front of the stage, next to the stage in live festival experience with audience.
Enriched with feelings tied to these “crazy times”, this year I am especially looking forward to living bodies in a public space and observing the interaction between them. As part of the improv audience, I always like to explore my own process affected by the show. After it ends, I Sherlock myself on detecting the moment performers hooked me to the show. Alternatively, if they did not, search where the reasons lie.
As a proud resident of virtual corners, I will invite you in a written word to the extension of the performances, which, with the help of technology, enters back into physical bodies through virtual spaces. If any of the written thoughts stay with you, know the Naked Stage festival inspired them.
For all geeks, gamers, random or occasional residents of virtuals, impressions of this year's Naked stage will be shared by Eva Jus, Nina Vombergar, Špela Setničar, Tina Tomšič, Corinne Brenko and
Tanja Matijašević,
Naked response Coordinator
Posebna izdaja
sreda, 10. novembra ob 19. uri (Stara mestna elektrarna, Ljubljana)
Koncept in izvedba projekta: Andreja Rauch Podrzavnik
Zasedba: Zlatko Kaučič, Eduardo Raon, Giorgia Belotti, Luke Thomas Dunne, Tomaž Lapajne Dekleva, Andreja Rauch Podrzavnik
Luč: Borut Cajnko
Produkcija: Zavod Federacija
Koprodukcija: DUM društvo umetnikov, Moderna galerija
V otvoritveni predstavi letošnjega festivala so se v Posebni izdaji združili glasbena improvizatorja Zlatko Kaučič in Eduardo Raon, plesni improvizatorji Giorgia Belotti, Luke Thomas Dunne in Andreja Rauch Podrzavnik ter gledališki improvizator Tomaž Lapajne Dekleva. Ob umirjeni pozornosti, ki so jo namenjali drug drugemu, so s kratkimi elementi in motivi zlagali med seboj prepletajoče zgodbe in stanja. Oder so uspešno zapolnjevali s svojimi telesi, pogledi, nekaj besedami in mehkimi zvoki harfe Eduarda Raona, ki so se slikovito igrali s kontrastnimi ritmičnimi in tolkalnimi vložki Zlatka Kaučiča.
Kot je v uvodnem nagovoru občinstvu izpostavila Maja Dekleva Lapajne (umetniška vodjinja festivala), so pomembni elementi improvizacije trenutki spodletelih poskusov in izražene ranljivosti improvizatorjev. To so trenutki, ki pri gledalcih vzbudijo zanimanje, poistovetenje in simpatijo do nastopajočih. Prav zato so bili morda najbolj vznemirljivi deli predstave tisti, ko so si mojstri svoje veščine (gledališča, plesa ali glasbe) drznili vstopiti v zanje bolj negotov prostor njim ne primarne izrazne veščine. Kot je na primer znotraj predstave komentiral Tomaž Lapajne Dekleva, je bilo sicer zares lepo opazovati plesne vložke Andreje Rauch Podrzavnik in Luka Thomasa Dunna ter njune duete, a posebej privlačno je bilo opazovati trenutke onkraj lepega, ko so si nastopajoči drznili vstopiti v njim manj varen izrazni prostor (npr. besedni vložki Luka Thomasa Dunna in vstop Andreje Rauch Podrzavnik v besedno improvizacijo s Tomažem Lapajnetom Deklevo, gibalne improvizacije Tomaža Lapajneta Dekleve z Giorgio Belotti, poskus Giorgie Belotti na harfi, vskok Zlatka Kaučiča v besedno improvizacijo itd.). Igrivost in lahkotna samoironija, ki sta se vzpostavila ob sproščenem preizkušanju nepoznanega terena, je bila posebej opazna pri Tomažu Lapajne Deklevi, ki je z raznovrstnimi pobudami tudi sicer v največji meri izvabljal vključenost celotne ekipe v raziskovanje in dogajanje.
Improvizatorji so drug drugemu dajali jasno pozornost in prostor za izraz. Tekom predstave so razvili nekatere vzorce in elemente, ki so jih kot rdeče niti na različnih točkah ponavljali in obujali v novih situacijah. Ena najbolj zapomnljivih je bila beseda oziroma komentar Tomaža Lapajneta Dekleve - »lepo« - in iz tega izpeljanka vprašanja so-improvizatorjem, ali se jim zdi lepo, kar vidijo. Zdi se, kot da je improvizator s tem skušal vzpostavljati močnejšo interakcijo med sodelujočimi, ki je bila včasih bolj zamejena na tiste, ki so si po vrsti izraznosti bliže. V prvem delu predstave je bilo precej osvetljeno tudi občinstvo, kar je običajno za improvizirane predstave, ki spodbujajo sodelovanje občinstva, kar pa se v tem primeru ni zgodilo, zato se je takšna luč zdela manj učinkovita. Osredotočena energija nastopajočih je vzdržala celotno predstavo, a kljub temu se je zdel ritem nekoliko monoton. Zanimivo si je zamisliti, kaj bi se zgodilo v trenutku, ko bi jasni fokusi (na solo ali duet) za nekaj trenutkov zbledeli v skupinsko, morda celo kaotično sliko kombinacije vseh elementov, ki so se preigravali, in se nato znova ohladili v bolj strukturirano formo.
Koncept predstave, ki ga je zasnovala Andreja Rauch Podrzavnik, in se vsakokrat zgodi v drugačni zasedbi, zares sledi principom spontanosti, negotovosti in hipnosti improvizacije. Improvizatorji se med seboj ne poznajo nujno več kot nekaj ur, predstava se zgodi brez v naprej določenih trenutkov, kjer se nastopajoči »srečajo« v dogovorjenih »opornih točkah«, prav tako zaradi vsakič unikatne zasedbe ne omogoča zanašanje na izkušnje iz preteklih skupnih prizorov in izgrajen slog skupine. V takšnih razmerah je posebej pomembna osredotočenost in sproščenost nastopajočih, kar je v tokratni zasedbi zagotovo bilo moč opaziti. Lahko bi si želeli le, da bi si vsak njen član v še večji meri drznil podati v neznano.
O predstavi je razmišljala Nina Vombergar.
Koncept in izvedba projekta: Andreja Rauch Podrzavnik
Zasedba: Zlatko Kaučič, Eduardo Raon, Giorgia Belotti, Luke Thomas Dunne, Tomaž Lapajne Dekleva, Andreja Rauch Podrzavnik
Luč: Borut Cajnko
Produkcija: Zavod Federacija
Koprodukcija: DUM društvo umetnikov, Moderna galerija
V otvoritveni predstavi letošnjega festivala so se v Posebni izdaji združili glasbena improvizatorja Zlatko Kaučič in Eduardo Raon, plesni improvizatorji Giorgia Belotti, Luke Thomas Dunne in Andreja Rauch Podrzavnik ter gledališki improvizator Tomaž Lapajne Dekleva. Ob umirjeni pozornosti, ki so jo namenjali drug drugemu, so s kratkimi elementi in motivi zlagali med seboj prepletajoče zgodbe in stanja. Oder so uspešno zapolnjevali s svojimi telesi, pogledi, nekaj besedami in mehkimi zvoki harfe Eduarda Raona, ki so se slikovito igrali s kontrastnimi ritmičnimi in tolkalnimi vložki Zlatka Kaučiča.
Kot je v uvodnem nagovoru občinstvu izpostavila Maja Dekleva Lapajne (umetniška vodjinja festivala), so pomembni elementi improvizacije trenutki spodletelih poskusov in izražene ranljivosti improvizatorjev. To so trenutki, ki pri gledalcih vzbudijo zanimanje, poistovetenje in simpatijo do nastopajočih. Prav zato so bili morda najbolj vznemirljivi deli predstave tisti, ko so si mojstri svoje veščine (gledališča, plesa ali glasbe) drznili vstopiti v zanje bolj negotov prostor njim ne primarne izrazne veščine. Kot je na primer znotraj predstave komentiral Tomaž Lapajne Dekleva, je bilo sicer zares lepo opazovati plesne vložke Andreje Rauch Podrzavnik in Luka Thomasa Dunna ter njune duete, a posebej privlačno je bilo opazovati trenutke onkraj lepega, ko so si nastopajoči drznili vstopiti v njim manj varen izrazni prostor (npr. besedni vložki Luka Thomasa Dunna in vstop Andreje Rauch Podrzavnik v besedno improvizacijo s Tomažem Lapajnetom Deklevo, gibalne improvizacije Tomaža Lapajneta Dekleve z Giorgio Belotti, poskus Giorgie Belotti na harfi, vskok Zlatka Kaučiča v besedno improvizacijo itd.). Igrivost in lahkotna samoironija, ki sta se vzpostavila ob sproščenem preizkušanju nepoznanega terena, je bila posebej opazna pri Tomažu Lapajne Deklevi, ki je z raznovrstnimi pobudami tudi sicer v največji meri izvabljal vključenost celotne ekipe v raziskovanje in dogajanje.
Improvizatorji so drug drugemu dajali jasno pozornost in prostor za izraz. Tekom predstave so razvili nekatere vzorce in elemente, ki so jih kot rdeče niti na različnih točkah ponavljali in obujali v novih situacijah. Ena najbolj zapomnljivih je bila beseda oziroma komentar Tomaža Lapajneta Dekleve - »lepo« - in iz tega izpeljanka vprašanja so-improvizatorjem, ali se jim zdi lepo, kar vidijo. Zdi se, kot da je improvizator s tem skušal vzpostavljati močnejšo interakcijo med sodelujočimi, ki je bila včasih bolj zamejena na tiste, ki so si po vrsti izraznosti bliže. V prvem delu predstave je bilo precej osvetljeno tudi občinstvo, kar je običajno za improvizirane predstave, ki spodbujajo sodelovanje občinstva, kar pa se v tem primeru ni zgodilo, zato se je takšna luč zdela manj učinkovita. Osredotočena energija nastopajočih je vzdržala celotno predstavo, a kljub temu se je zdel ritem nekoliko monoton. Zanimivo si je zamisliti, kaj bi se zgodilo v trenutku, ko bi jasni fokusi (na solo ali duet) za nekaj trenutkov zbledeli v skupinsko, morda celo kaotično sliko kombinacije vseh elementov, ki so se preigravali, in se nato znova ohladili v bolj strukturirano formo.
Koncept predstave, ki ga je zasnovala Andreja Rauch Podrzavnik, in se vsakokrat zgodi v drugačni zasedbi, zares sledi principom spontanosti, negotovosti in hipnosti improvizacije. Improvizatorji se med seboj ne poznajo nujno več kot nekaj ur, predstava se zgodi brez v naprej določenih trenutkov, kjer se nastopajoči »srečajo« v dogovorjenih »opornih točkah«, prav tako zaradi vsakič unikatne zasedbe ne omogoča zanašanje na izkušnje iz preteklih skupnih prizorov in izgrajen slog skupine. V takšnih razmerah je posebej pomembna osredotočenost in sproščenost nastopajočih, kar je v tokratni zasedbi zagotovo bilo moč opaziti. Lahko bi si želeli le, da bi si vsak njen član v še večji meri drznil podati v neznano.
O predstavi je razmišljala Nina Vombergar.
Choose your shoes
Thursday, November 11 at 9pm
Venue: Old Power Station - Elektro Ljubljana
Concept and performing: Billy Kissa, Elvira Lingris
Music: Goran Završnik
Lights: Borut Cajnko
Production: BE
Don’t be sorry!
Dear Robyn!
You will probably never understand why I had to go away from you. Why I had to separate myself from you physically for longer than just an afternoon activity once a week. I really needed time and space away from you. I need to figure out who I am without you. You will probably never understand what a horrible feeling it is to realize one day, one does not even know who she is on her own. I hope separation from you will help me figure out whether I am just your vision of myself or pure reflection of your version of myself or some kind of twisted version of you. It cut me deeply when you said I follow you like a puppy. It hurts me how you use the knowledge of my vulnerabilities to hurt me. For that same reason, I have difficulties trusting anyone. The experience of our relationship has been so intense I could not even imagine myself without you. Everywhere I went I tried to behave as if you were watching me, even if you were not there. By the time I realized how unsettling that feels you already got a grip on this weird dynamics of our relationship. Your voice resonated in my head at all time. Seemed like I was never alone. I felt so suffocated. And jet you dare to yell at me it is me who has to realize we are not a couple. Please, stop obsessing with me. I am so tired of fighting. I am also tired of you explaining yourself for all the foul behaviours. Just act kinder. I am sick of trying to understand why you tend to hurt people who you feel the closest to. And jet I am still doing it.
That is it. Say hi to your aunt. I really like her. She knows how to listen. Goodbye Robyn. I WILL miss you, but I need to do this for myself. About my shoes: you can keep them. I know you like to wear them with your red coat. I think the reason I bought them in the first place was that I knew you would like them.
Yours Lisa
Lisa!
U know I am right when I say you are such a pussy for not staying and fighting for yourself. I never wanted anything else for u than to become what u wanted. That is why I said all those things. I challenged u. Don’t u understand: I challenged you all the time! But u always just shut down. Stopped speaking. Then I always needed to reach u somehow. Find kind words to get u out of that dark place you loved so much. U always blamed me for you sadness but somehow I can’t take responsibilities for everything that happens in ur life. It feels like I know all of your buttons but I always push the wrong ones. I always try so much to pick the right word to explain situations that trigger u but at the end, I keep on failing. That is sad. I don’t wanna censor myself on how I express and feel just to make u feel comfortable at all times. It makes me sad u don’t accept me for who I am. I am also angry. Angry that u let me be that bitch. I don’t wanna always be the bitch. The big bad strong bitch, while u act so cute all the time. I want for u to be the bitch sometimes and stop whinning! I love you so much. I am crying like rain these days. However, I know I need to let u go. This is not healthy for neither of us. U know I don’t like to write letters, but it seems I don’t want my last words be that shitty argument we had. Again, I wanna make sure u are not in some dark place right now. Nevertheless, u should’t be. You are the best person in this world. Very strong. Although I didn’t tell u that very often. I think u are strong. I know I should get my act together and let people breathe.
Thanks for baring with me all these years. My hand still hurts and so does my heart. I know it is all cheesy. I am afraid everybody will leave me. That is why I walked out of that door. So it wouldn’t be me who was left behind. It saddens me u never came after me. Now I am stuck with myself.
I am exhausted. I am so sorry Lisa. I will know better next time. I need to know better next time. I hope there is next time.
Love, Robyn
p.s.: I am sending you my green sweater. I know you like to wear it when u go for your late night walks.
p.s.s: I am going to therapy now.
I am so bad with goodbyes
The performers Elvira and Billy bring us straight to the moment when relationship between the two characters is getting so uncomfortable the urge to make a change, any change, is pressuring down on them. They enter the stage with bodily expression of anger, one clutching the marker pen and the other one playing angrily with the slinky toy . As they are pacing up and down the space defined by table and chairs, they are trying to find the right time to speak up about how they feel. They let us have more than a moment to observe before the words fill the space. What we witnessed in next hour or so was a personal, toned up, conversation between two very close friends. How they reacted to each other’s words and body language defined them as characters. The pacing, stillness, throwing objects (yes, you've guessed it: that useless slinky toy flew across the stage at one point of the show), begging and explaining oneself all somehow triggered by the presence of other, but deeply connected to the inner self.
The musician Goran Zavašnik who, in moments of calm conversation or silence, created a repeating beats or pieces of music and smoothly constructed tense atmosphere also added great dimension to the show. By musically defining the storyline of anger seeded and growing in one’s body as a very intimate feeling, which one tries to cope with, he helped us understand the unspoken between the characters. As human beings, we try to avoid uncontrollable expression that dictated by it and only show it to the ones dearest to us, which often leads to the point where we need to rebuild our relationship. By recognizing and changing our behavioural patterns, we avoid total destruction, otherwise the best thing we can do for ourselves is sashay away.
For me as a spectator this was like a laboratory of Gestalt therapy or reflection on the history of my arguments. I often looked around the crowd and realized people were nodding as a sign of recognition: »I go to theatre to get away from the shitty way we talk to each other at home on a daily basis, and here I am reliving all of it, « I hear someone say just as the show ends.
This is just what it is. Finding the way to express ourselves on a daily basis. Trying to detect our anger, fear, sadness, love or whatever pushes us to connect with people around us. I ask myself quite oftenly which patterns I adopted in a desperate need to be seen, valued and recognized. Moreover, how often do I hurt people dear to me, just to protect myself?
After the show I felt the desprete need to talk to the person I last fought with. Therefore, I guess we need to see more anger on stage. To reflect, detect it and be kinder to each other. The actresses were consumed by the feelings of separation as we saw tears coming down their cheeks, when the show was finished. As one of the characters surely wanted this friendship to land more into the couple’s zone, they ended up going their separate ways.
Going deep into the fights and characters,
the thoughts on this show were shared with you by
Tanja Matijašević
Venue: Old Power Station - Elektro Ljubljana
Concept and performing: Billy Kissa, Elvira Lingris
Music: Goran Završnik
Lights: Borut Cajnko
Production: BE
Don’t be sorry!
Dear Robyn!
You will probably never understand why I had to go away from you. Why I had to separate myself from you physically for longer than just an afternoon activity once a week. I really needed time and space away from you. I need to figure out who I am without you. You will probably never understand what a horrible feeling it is to realize one day, one does not even know who she is on her own. I hope separation from you will help me figure out whether I am just your vision of myself or pure reflection of your version of myself or some kind of twisted version of you. It cut me deeply when you said I follow you like a puppy. It hurts me how you use the knowledge of my vulnerabilities to hurt me. For that same reason, I have difficulties trusting anyone. The experience of our relationship has been so intense I could not even imagine myself without you. Everywhere I went I tried to behave as if you were watching me, even if you were not there. By the time I realized how unsettling that feels you already got a grip on this weird dynamics of our relationship. Your voice resonated in my head at all time. Seemed like I was never alone. I felt so suffocated. And jet you dare to yell at me it is me who has to realize we are not a couple. Please, stop obsessing with me. I am so tired of fighting. I am also tired of you explaining yourself for all the foul behaviours. Just act kinder. I am sick of trying to understand why you tend to hurt people who you feel the closest to. And jet I am still doing it.
That is it. Say hi to your aunt. I really like her. She knows how to listen. Goodbye Robyn. I WILL miss you, but I need to do this for myself. About my shoes: you can keep them. I know you like to wear them with your red coat. I think the reason I bought them in the first place was that I knew you would like them.
Yours Lisa
Lisa!
U know I am right when I say you are such a pussy for not staying and fighting for yourself. I never wanted anything else for u than to become what u wanted. That is why I said all those things. I challenged u. Don’t u understand: I challenged you all the time! But u always just shut down. Stopped speaking. Then I always needed to reach u somehow. Find kind words to get u out of that dark place you loved so much. U always blamed me for you sadness but somehow I can’t take responsibilities for everything that happens in ur life. It feels like I know all of your buttons but I always push the wrong ones. I always try so much to pick the right word to explain situations that trigger u but at the end, I keep on failing. That is sad. I don’t wanna censor myself on how I express and feel just to make u feel comfortable at all times. It makes me sad u don’t accept me for who I am. I am also angry. Angry that u let me be that bitch. I don’t wanna always be the bitch. The big bad strong bitch, while u act so cute all the time. I want for u to be the bitch sometimes and stop whinning! I love you so much. I am crying like rain these days. However, I know I need to let u go. This is not healthy for neither of us. U know I don’t like to write letters, but it seems I don’t want my last words be that shitty argument we had. Again, I wanna make sure u are not in some dark place right now. Nevertheless, u should’t be. You are the best person in this world. Very strong. Although I didn’t tell u that very often. I think u are strong. I know I should get my act together and let people breathe.
Thanks for baring with me all these years. My hand still hurts and so does my heart. I know it is all cheesy. I am afraid everybody will leave me. That is why I walked out of that door. So it wouldn’t be me who was left behind. It saddens me u never came after me. Now I am stuck with myself.
I am exhausted. I am so sorry Lisa. I will know better next time. I need to know better next time. I hope there is next time.
Love, Robyn
p.s.: I am sending you my green sweater. I know you like to wear it when u go for your late night walks.
p.s.s: I am going to therapy now.
I am so bad with goodbyes
The performers Elvira and Billy bring us straight to the moment when relationship between the two characters is getting so uncomfortable the urge to make a change, any change, is pressuring down on them. They enter the stage with bodily expression of anger, one clutching the marker pen and the other one playing angrily with the slinky toy . As they are pacing up and down the space defined by table and chairs, they are trying to find the right time to speak up about how they feel. They let us have more than a moment to observe before the words fill the space. What we witnessed in next hour or so was a personal, toned up, conversation between two very close friends. How they reacted to each other’s words and body language defined them as characters. The pacing, stillness, throwing objects (yes, you've guessed it: that useless slinky toy flew across the stage at one point of the show), begging and explaining oneself all somehow triggered by the presence of other, but deeply connected to the inner self.
The musician Goran Zavašnik who, in moments of calm conversation or silence, created a repeating beats or pieces of music and smoothly constructed tense atmosphere also added great dimension to the show. By musically defining the storyline of anger seeded and growing in one’s body as a very intimate feeling, which one tries to cope with, he helped us understand the unspoken between the characters. As human beings, we try to avoid uncontrollable expression that dictated by it and only show it to the ones dearest to us, which often leads to the point where we need to rebuild our relationship. By recognizing and changing our behavioural patterns, we avoid total destruction, otherwise the best thing we can do for ourselves is sashay away.
For me as a spectator this was like a laboratory of Gestalt therapy or reflection on the history of my arguments. I often looked around the crowd and realized people were nodding as a sign of recognition: »I go to theatre to get away from the shitty way we talk to each other at home on a daily basis, and here I am reliving all of it, « I hear someone say just as the show ends.
This is just what it is. Finding the way to express ourselves on a daily basis. Trying to detect our anger, fear, sadness, love or whatever pushes us to connect with people around us. I ask myself quite oftenly which patterns I adopted in a desperate need to be seen, valued and recognized. Moreover, how often do I hurt people dear to me, just to protect myself?
After the show I felt the desprete need to talk to the person I last fought with. Therefore, I guess we need to see more anger on stage. To reflect, detect it and be kinder to each other. The actresses were consumed by the feelings of separation as we saw tears coming down their cheeks, when the show was finished. As one of the characters surely wanted this friendship to land more into the couple’s zone, they ended up going their separate ways.
Going deep into the fights and characters,
the thoughts on this show were shared with you by
Tanja Matijašević
Midva med nama: Improviser's cut
Sreda, 10. novembra 2021
Zamisel in igra: Luka Piletič, Sara Šoukal
Glasba: Rok Zalokar
Luč: Borut Cajnko
Producentka: Eva Jus
Kakšna sem med rjuhami
Usedem se na stol, tretja vrsta, in vznemirjeno čakam na začetek. Z osebo, s katero sva si dokaj blizu, se v nerodni telesni govorici sporazumeva, da bova sedeli skupaj. Medtem ko čakam na predstavo, razmišljam zakaj je minilo toliko časa odkar sva se nazadnje pogovarjali, šli na kosilo , vzeli čas za naju. Zavem se razdalje, nevezane na stol, ki je, skladno z zakonom, postavljen med naju. V tistem mi na glavo sede muha, zamahnem z roko in …
Pssst. Predstava se začenja.
Vrvi. Na vrveh rjuhe. Svetloba. Igra silhuet. Tipanje. Spoznavanje. Negotovost. Dve različni telesi.
Scenografija, ki definira prostor deluje kot nekakšna glazura, ki ne želi vsebine razkriti takoj. Telesi se gibljeta med obešenimi rjuhami, se srečujeta in odmikata. Kot da je vse skupaj ples med njima, hkrati pa tudi nami in njima. Vznemirjenje naraste, ko pride do (naključnih) stikov ter izmenjave besed. Skozi dotike iščeta način kako se umestiti drug zraven drugega. Že na prvi pogled sta telesi različni, tisto večje, z lahkoto pogleda čez rjuhe, drugega opazimo skozi špranje in obrise, ki nam jih nudi premišljeno postavljena luč v ozadju. Počasi dobivamo občutek za dinamiko odnosa, ki je v fazi raziskovanja. Srečanja, provokacije, občasni postanki.
Ker nas impro razvaja z dejstvom, da so karakterji in telesa definirani v procesu predstave si za par sekund domišljam, da ne gledam nujno heteronormativnega odnosa, in čeprav se hitro izpostavi, da gre dejansko za moško in žensko telo, ostajam pri radovednosti kako se bosta lika razvijala in spopadala s stereotipi, ki jih prelistavamo že od Adama in Eve.
Njemu so ravnokar padle dol hlače. Kaj pa zdaj?
Ranljivost, ki jo človek čuti, kot nepričakovan je spotik, padec v neznano. On se odloči, da bo v tem konkretnem primeru igral skulirano igro. Ona se mu opraviči (ker mu je potegnila hlače z bokov) in, da bo fer, dvigne svojo majico. Zdaj sta pred publiko enako razgaljena, zdaj je stvar rešena in lahko se premaknemo naprej. Še vedno se skrivata pod tančico, majico, kavbojkami. Cel segment prizorov spominja na vse nerodne poskuse, s katerimi želiš očarati osebo na začetku veze. Scena s hlačami pa na tiste zabave, kjer pari zatrjujejo vsem, hkrati pa eden drugemu, da se imata neznansko fajn, čeprav vsi vidimo da sta se v resnici v tistem trenutku prvič vprašala ali jima je taka dinamika všeč. Zavedata se, da sta malček nerodna eden z drugim, a se s pogledom sporazumeta in živita naprej in vztrajata za tisti magičen košček intime, ki ga sta ga nepričakovano našla, ko sta enkrat nehala opletati z besedami in frajerskimi pozami. V seriji prizorov, ki so se zgodili med rjuhami, čakam, kdaj bosta prebila mehurček, ki ju bo še bolj zbližal.
Glasba mi žal ne ustvarja povabila v scene, le še bolj reže in trga njun odnos, ustvarja razdaljo med njima, med mano in prizori, ki jih gledam in še preden si ustvarim mnenje ali sta človeka, ki ju gledam vedno isti osebi, ali gre za serijo nepovezani prizorov tančice padejo.
Rjuhe so na tleh. Luč se spremeni. Zdaj ni več skrivanja. Telesi sta se primorani soočiti eno z drugim v isti dimenziji. Dogajajo primiki in odmiki. Telesi sta skupaj, eno reagira na drugega, kolažirata vsebino. Občutek imam, da skupaj z njima pregledujem album s slikami. In čeprav so slike, ki jih gledam podobne slikam parov, ki hodijo na počitnice, ubija mravlje, in …
… muha je preživela. Zdaj sedi na njegovem čelu in on jo naslavlja z mimiko obraza. Oči škilijo, telo se mu zvija v strahu in skuša se osredotočiti na besede, ki mu jih govori ona. Ona čez čas opazi, da je ne posluša, čeprav mu je ravno želela nekaj pomembnega razložiti. Podrobi mu, da besede včasih pač odletijo in s tem naslovi muho med njima.
… grajenju skupnega, se zavem, da je namerno vnesen element nepovezanosti in občutka samote. Ko ona orgazmira in se zlaže, da je sanjala njega, je jasno, da še vedno odmikata, zagrinjata misli in resnico, saj so soočenja nevzdržna. Med njima je neprebojna snov stkana iz nenaslovljenih čustev, neizgovorjenih misli in neopaženih grimas. Glasba potencira besede, ki razdvajajo, včasih je vse na kar se lahko osredotočimo odmev izgovorjenih besed. Zdi se, da se še vedno zatekata v prostore, ki so enemu ali drugemu varni. Ona diktira tempo, on se odziva. Čakam na prosti pad.
»Zakaj me imaš rad?« Voila.
Seveda jo mora imeti rad. Daj reči kaj dobrega.
Seveda jo ima rad. Rad jo ima. Toliko razlogov je naštel.
Ona mu ne verjame.
Zakaj mu ne verjame. On se res trudi, ampak bolj kot se trudi, bolj je…
Nevzdržno ji je poslušati razloge, zakaj jo ima nekdo rad, če pa se ne počuti ljubljene. In je vsaka beseda razlog, da se skrije, za še eno, in še eno in še eno, tančico, opravilo, igrico, pesem, romantično večerjo, vse te geste, skupne počitnice, opazovanje mravelj. Kako razložiti, fenomen, ko se v paru, v dvojini počutiš osamljeno. Kako doseči, da bi oba uživala, živela, dihala, seksala v odnosu, da le ne bi postala…
…rutina. Zlaganje rjuh. Rutine so lahko zelo raznolike. Kot zlaganje rjuh.
Na koncu bo vse pospravljeno. Oder bo prazen. Lahko bomo odšli domov v svoja skrivališča. In razmišljali o svojih odnosih. Morda o njih celo spregovorili.
Medtem, ko zlagata vse rjuhe na kup (še nikoli nisem videla tako fascinantne opravilne koreografije) spoznavamo Saro in Luko. »17 sem bila stara, ko sem izgubila nedolžnost. « Medtem, ko on reflektira tudi mi, predvidevam večina, reflektiramo in se primerjamo, kot to pač ljudje počnemo.
Čutim se povabljeno, da stopim v ta prostor v katerem prelistavam tudi lastne intimne odnose. Vstop med rjuhe, tipanje, raziskovanje, nerodnosti in igre moči, razmišljanje o tem kdo daje pobude in zakaj so se nekateri odnosi, ki so funkcionirali med rjuhami, v vsakodnevni rutini končali. Ko ob robu odra čaka lično zložen kupček, razumem, da me odprte strukture vedno malček zmedejo, saj so kot vsak ponoven vstop v odnos, ko misliš, da te bo izkušenost zavarovala pred neznanim, ki ga prinesejo trki individualnih zgodb, spominov in pogledov na ljubezen.
Midva med nama: Improviser’s cut je riziko, ki ga za nas sprejmeta improvizatorka in improvizator (kateremu na čelu piše: ja, tudi klovn sem, res je). Cel format je prosti pad v prepletu žanrov, izkušenj, provokacij, preobračaja stereotipov in struktur. Je neponovljiva izkušnja, saj ni jasno kaj bo priplavalo na povšje naslednjič, katera tančica bo najbolj prosojna in kje se bomo zataknili gledalci. S to predstavo je podobno kot z nekaterimi odnosi. Čeprav je zaključena, z njo še nismo opravili, ko so se ugasnile luči ali ko smo videli priklon glasbenika in dveh performerjev. S seboj nosimo slike in vprašanja, ki si jih sproti zastavljamo. Kot na primer tisto: ali sem tudi sama kdaj svoj dopustniški užitek naprtila na pleča drugih in: kako težko sprejmem izraz ljubezni. Ali pa: s kom se lahko odkrito pogovarjam o seksu?
Predstave je konec. Obrnem se proti osebi, s katero sva se pred predstavo v okornem telesnem jeziku dogovorili, da si jo ogledava skupaj. »Ej, jst sem na isti datum prvič seksala kt Luka,« rečem. Ona pa: »A ni zanimivo v kakšnih stvareh se ljudje povežemo.« Greva v preddverje in v trenutku in se veselim, ker vem da predstava odpira prostor za pogovor, refleksijo, možnost, da smo drugačne in enaki.
Svoja razmišljanja sem z vami delila Tanja Matijašević.
Zamisel in igra: Luka Piletič, Sara Šoukal
Glasba: Rok Zalokar
Luč: Borut Cajnko
Producentka: Eva Jus
Kakšna sem med rjuhami
Usedem se na stol, tretja vrsta, in vznemirjeno čakam na začetek. Z osebo, s katero sva si dokaj blizu, se v nerodni telesni govorici sporazumeva, da bova sedeli skupaj. Medtem ko čakam na predstavo, razmišljam zakaj je minilo toliko časa odkar sva se nazadnje pogovarjali, šli na kosilo , vzeli čas za naju. Zavem se razdalje, nevezane na stol, ki je, skladno z zakonom, postavljen med naju. V tistem mi na glavo sede muha, zamahnem z roko in …
Pssst. Predstava se začenja.
Vrvi. Na vrveh rjuhe. Svetloba. Igra silhuet. Tipanje. Spoznavanje. Negotovost. Dve različni telesi.
Scenografija, ki definira prostor deluje kot nekakšna glazura, ki ne želi vsebine razkriti takoj. Telesi se gibljeta med obešenimi rjuhami, se srečujeta in odmikata. Kot da je vse skupaj ples med njima, hkrati pa tudi nami in njima. Vznemirjenje naraste, ko pride do (naključnih) stikov ter izmenjave besed. Skozi dotike iščeta način kako se umestiti drug zraven drugega. Že na prvi pogled sta telesi različni, tisto večje, z lahkoto pogleda čez rjuhe, drugega opazimo skozi špranje in obrise, ki nam jih nudi premišljeno postavljena luč v ozadju. Počasi dobivamo občutek za dinamiko odnosa, ki je v fazi raziskovanja. Srečanja, provokacije, občasni postanki.
Ker nas impro razvaja z dejstvom, da so karakterji in telesa definirani v procesu predstave si za par sekund domišljam, da ne gledam nujno heteronormativnega odnosa, in čeprav se hitro izpostavi, da gre dejansko za moško in žensko telo, ostajam pri radovednosti kako se bosta lika razvijala in spopadala s stereotipi, ki jih prelistavamo že od Adama in Eve.
Njemu so ravnokar padle dol hlače. Kaj pa zdaj?
Ranljivost, ki jo človek čuti, kot nepričakovan je spotik, padec v neznano. On se odloči, da bo v tem konkretnem primeru igral skulirano igro. Ona se mu opraviči (ker mu je potegnila hlače z bokov) in, da bo fer, dvigne svojo majico. Zdaj sta pred publiko enako razgaljena, zdaj je stvar rešena in lahko se premaknemo naprej. Še vedno se skrivata pod tančico, majico, kavbojkami. Cel segment prizorov spominja na vse nerodne poskuse, s katerimi želiš očarati osebo na začetku veze. Scena s hlačami pa na tiste zabave, kjer pari zatrjujejo vsem, hkrati pa eden drugemu, da se imata neznansko fajn, čeprav vsi vidimo da sta se v resnici v tistem trenutku prvič vprašala ali jima je taka dinamika všeč. Zavedata se, da sta malček nerodna eden z drugim, a se s pogledom sporazumeta in živita naprej in vztrajata za tisti magičen košček intime, ki ga sta ga nepričakovano našla, ko sta enkrat nehala opletati z besedami in frajerskimi pozami. V seriji prizorov, ki so se zgodili med rjuhami, čakam, kdaj bosta prebila mehurček, ki ju bo še bolj zbližal.
Glasba mi žal ne ustvarja povabila v scene, le še bolj reže in trga njun odnos, ustvarja razdaljo med njima, med mano in prizori, ki jih gledam in še preden si ustvarim mnenje ali sta človeka, ki ju gledam vedno isti osebi, ali gre za serijo nepovezani prizorov tančice padejo.
Rjuhe so na tleh. Luč se spremeni. Zdaj ni več skrivanja. Telesi sta se primorani soočiti eno z drugim v isti dimenziji. Dogajajo primiki in odmiki. Telesi sta skupaj, eno reagira na drugega, kolažirata vsebino. Občutek imam, da skupaj z njima pregledujem album s slikami. In čeprav so slike, ki jih gledam podobne slikam parov, ki hodijo na počitnice, ubija mravlje, in …
… muha je preživela. Zdaj sedi na njegovem čelu in on jo naslavlja z mimiko obraza. Oči škilijo, telo se mu zvija v strahu in skuša se osredotočiti na besede, ki mu jih govori ona. Ona čez čas opazi, da je ne posluša, čeprav mu je ravno želela nekaj pomembnega razložiti. Podrobi mu, da besede včasih pač odletijo in s tem naslovi muho med njima.
… grajenju skupnega, se zavem, da je namerno vnesen element nepovezanosti in občutka samote. Ko ona orgazmira in se zlaže, da je sanjala njega, je jasno, da še vedno odmikata, zagrinjata misli in resnico, saj so soočenja nevzdržna. Med njima je neprebojna snov stkana iz nenaslovljenih čustev, neizgovorjenih misli in neopaženih grimas. Glasba potencira besede, ki razdvajajo, včasih je vse na kar se lahko osredotočimo odmev izgovorjenih besed. Zdi se, da se še vedno zatekata v prostore, ki so enemu ali drugemu varni. Ona diktira tempo, on se odziva. Čakam na prosti pad.
»Zakaj me imaš rad?« Voila.
Seveda jo mora imeti rad. Daj reči kaj dobrega.
Seveda jo ima rad. Rad jo ima. Toliko razlogov je naštel.
Ona mu ne verjame.
Zakaj mu ne verjame. On se res trudi, ampak bolj kot se trudi, bolj je…
Nevzdržno ji je poslušati razloge, zakaj jo ima nekdo rad, če pa se ne počuti ljubljene. In je vsaka beseda razlog, da se skrije, za še eno, in še eno in še eno, tančico, opravilo, igrico, pesem, romantično večerjo, vse te geste, skupne počitnice, opazovanje mravelj. Kako razložiti, fenomen, ko se v paru, v dvojini počutiš osamljeno. Kako doseči, da bi oba uživala, živela, dihala, seksala v odnosu, da le ne bi postala…
…rutina. Zlaganje rjuh. Rutine so lahko zelo raznolike. Kot zlaganje rjuh.
Na koncu bo vse pospravljeno. Oder bo prazen. Lahko bomo odšli domov v svoja skrivališča. In razmišljali o svojih odnosih. Morda o njih celo spregovorili.
Medtem, ko zlagata vse rjuhe na kup (še nikoli nisem videla tako fascinantne opravilne koreografije) spoznavamo Saro in Luko. »17 sem bila stara, ko sem izgubila nedolžnost. « Medtem, ko on reflektira tudi mi, predvidevam večina, reflektiramo in se primerjamo, kot to pač ljudje počnemo.
Čutim se povabljeno, da stopim v ta prostor v katerem prelistavam tudi lastne intimne odnose. Vstop med rjuhe, tipanje, raziskovanje, nerodnosti in igre moči, razmišljanje o tem kdo daje pobude in zakaj so se nekateri odnosi, ki so funkcionirali med rjuhami, v vsakodnevni rutini končali. Ko ob robu odra čaka lično zložen kupček, razumem, da me odprte strukture vedno malček zmedejo, saj so kot vsak ponoven vstop v odnos, ko misliš, da te bo izkušenost zavarovala pred neznanim, ki ga prinesejo trki individualnih zgodb, spominov in pogledov na ljubezen.
Midva med nama: Improviser’s cut je riziko, ki ga za nas sprejmeta improvizatorka in improvizator (kateremu na čelu piše: ja, tudi klovn sem, res je). Cel format je prosti pad v prepletu žanrov, izkušenj, provokacij, preobračaja stereotipov in struktur. Je neponovljiva izkušnja, saj ni jasno kaj bo priplavalo na povšje naslednjič, katera tančica bo najbolj prosojna in kje se bomo zataknili gledalci. S to predstavo je podobno kot z nekaterimi odnosi. Čeprav je zaključena, z njo še nismo opravili, ko so se ugasnile luči ali ko smo videli priklon glasbenika in dveh performerjev. S seboj nosimo slike in vprašanja, ki si jih sproti zastavljamo. Kot na primer tisto: ali sem tudi sama kdaj svoj dopustniški užitek naprtila na pleča drugih in: kako težko sprejmem izraz ljubezni. Ali pa: s kom se lahko odkrito pogovarjam o seksu?
Predstave je konec. Obrnem se proti osebi, s katero sva se pred predstavo v okornem telesnem jeziku dogovorili, da si jo ogledava skupaj. »Ej, jst sem na isti datum prvič seksala kt Luka,« rečem. Ona pa: »A ni zanimivo v kakšnih stvareh se ljudje povežemo.« Greva v preddverje in v trenutku in se veselim, ker vem da predstava odpira prostor za pogovor, refleksijo, možnost, da smo drugačne in enaki.
Svoja razmišljanja sem z vami delila Tanja Matijašević.
Glasovi
četrtek, 11. novembra ob 19.00
v Stari mestni elektrarni - Elektro Ljubljana
Zamisel in igra: Mistral Majer, Olivija Grafenauer, Sara Šoukal, Urša Strehar Benčina
Glasba: Luka Seliškar
Luč: Veronika Hana Grubič
Produkcija: Improške, Društvo Impro
GLASOVI
Kje tiči moč nekega glasu? V njegovi vzdržljivosti, samovoljnosti, jakosti? Je ta odkrita v kolektivnem kriku glasov, ki se zlijejo v eno samo željo, zahtevo, sporočilo?
Improške s predstavo Glasovi začnejo sunkovito, dinamično, gledalcu skoraj vsiljeno. Še preden uspemo zasesti svoje mesto na neoznačenih fiksnih stolih, se znajdemo v srčiki predstave. Nastopajoče, ki se od gledalcev razlikujejo po svojem lila kostumu, so del konglomerata posedajočih se gledalcev. Ogovarjajo jih, vendar ne z namenom konstruktivnega pogovora, njihovo žlobudranje ni smiselno. Govorijo po telefonu, glasno, nepovezano z okolico, z nesmiselnimi stavki ogovarjajo gledalce. Poganjajo kaos predstave, ki se je že začela, čeprav ne moremo verjeti da se je, ker je oder pred nami še vedno prazen. Gledalci zgolj postopoma spoznavajo, da je to to, da se je predstava že začela, kakofonija glasov pa se polega - postopoma slišimo le še “lahko nekaj poveste, test za snemanje imamo,” ene izmed nastopajočih, ki skrbi, da bomo pred pravim začetkom zares pripravljeni na predstavo.
In nato se dogajanje na odru prične. Nerazpoznavni kriki nastopajočih se razlegajo po dvorani, ko se same kričeč premikajo na vseh štirih plazeč ali kako drugače iščejo središče odra, ki ga naposled najdejo. Končajo skupaj. Tako predstava steče in se začne - nastopajoče končajo v skupni figuri, improvizirani prizori pa lahko stečejo. Glas je dobil svojo obliko, predstava pa formo.
Prevladujoč element predstave je - brez pretiranega presenečenja - glas nastopajočih. Njihov besedni izraz, mnenje, komunikacija (med seboj in s publiko). Poleg glasu pa prevlada tudi izrazna moč telesa. Natančneje teles. Beseda brez telesa, ki jo izreka ne more pomeniti veliko. Nekje na sredi predstave smo bili lahko priča epizodi, ki povzema njeno celotno bistvo. Igralke izrekajo besede, vendar z nezadostno mero vloženega čustva, na kar jih ena izmed Improšk opozarja. Prizor postane že rahlo komičen, ko 3 članice pojejo Parole Dalide, vendar bistvo je doseženo - besede dobijo svoje čustvo, s tem pa potencial da se prelevijo v dogodek.
Besedo moramo reči z občutkom. Jo izgovoriti, kot da jo zares tudi mislimo - vendar besedo misliti pomeni, da besedo pravzaprav občutimo. Šele tedaj lahko udejanjijo svoj potencial in se sprevržejo v dejanje. Izražamo se tako z verbalno kot s telesno govorico, a le skupaj sta razumljiva, smiselna celota. Prav to Improške vzpostavljajo tekom predstave - skozi vsako epizodo, končano s skupno figuro, ki se razkadi v tek štirih teles po odru objetih v temo predaha med igro. Igra telesnosti je skoraj tako izrazito prisotna kot igra z lastnim glasom in možno rabo besed. Telesa igralk se ne le oglašajo, njihova srečanja postanejo postopoma vse bolj fizična, neposredna, zlita v skupno gibanje znotraj dane figure, dotiki prerastejo v spontane poljube … in nato se telesa razidejo in preidejo v naslednjo epizodično dejanje. S telesom beseda postane mesena.[1]
Publika, ki je v začetni fazi eden izmed ključnih elementov predstave, kasneje kot integralni del dogajanja izgine - s skupinskim vzklikanjem ti! zavoljo krepljenja občutka krivde nastopajoče, je element publike uporabljen še zadnjič, nato pa izgine. Predvsem zaradi izhodiščno vzpostavljenega odnosa bi lahko pričakovali, da bo porušeni zid med publiko in nastopajočimi prevladujoč element predstave. Žal ni, vendar nas predstava vseeno vztrajno drži v svojih krempljih - vsaka nova slika se prične in odvije sunkovito in udarno. Nastopajoče nas soočijo z lastnimi negotovostmi, predstavljenimi skozi njihovo lastno perspektivo. Vsaka slika je ravno prav dolga, ko pa postane predolga se prelije v tek v krogu ali drugo izključno gibalno aktivnost.
Prizori so razgalili teme s katerimi se improvizatorska skupina sicer ukvarja. Skupnost, prijateljstvo, sodelovanje, vloga posameznice, ki jo igra vsakodnevno v odnosu s svojim okoljem zavzamejo svoj prostor na odru v obliki epizodnih prizorov, ki se z občasnimi humoresknimi vložki navežejo na pretekle, povečini pa ostanejo odigrani in pozabljeni. Vsaka posameznica ima svoj glas, ki ne ostane neizkoriščen. Vsaka se sooči s sebi lastnim problemom, vendar rešitev poiščejo skupaj.
Med vpraševanjem vloge posameznice v družbi vznikne tudi povsem naravna potreba po samorefleksiji - sebe, pa tudi skupine same. V predstavo se tako prikrade vprašanje - sem jaz dovolj? in ali moram biti res vedno jaz gonilo te skupine? Impro predstva postane polje, ko nastopajoče izrečejo kar jim leži na duši, kot skupina pa bodo vrženo temo primorane predelati. Posamezna nastopajoča ni nikoli povsem prepuščena sama sebi, vedno je del skupine. Vprašanje sebe v predstavi je neizogibno povezano z vprašanjem kaj pomeni biti del skupine in delovati skupaj. Odgovor Improšk ponazarja moč skupnosti - sistema opore najbližjih, ki te vedno izvlečejo iz tebi lastnega dna in nad tabo ne obupajo.
Razmišljanja o predstavi je zapisala Tina Tomšič.
v Stari mestni elektrarni - Elektro Ljubljana
Zamisel in igra: Mistral Majer, Olivija Grafenauer, Sara Šoukal, Urša Strehar Benčina
Glasba: Luka Seliškar
Luč: Veronika Hana Grubič
Produkcija: Improške, Društvo Impro
GLASOVI
Kje tiči moč nekega glasu? V njegovi vzdržljivosti, samovoljnosti, jakosti? Je ta odkrita v kolektivnem kriku glasov, ki se zlijejo v eno samo željo, zahtevo, sporočilo?
Improške s predstavo Glasovi začnejo sunkovito, dinamično, gledalcu skoraj vsiljeno. Še preden uspemo zasesti svoje mesto na neoznačenih fiksnih stolih, se znajdemo v srčiki predstave. Nastopajoče, ki se od gledalcev razlikujejo po svojem lila kostumu, so del konglomerata posedajočih se gledalcev. Ogovarjajo jih, vendar ne z namenom konstruktivnega pogovora, njihovo žlobudranje ni smiselno. Govorijo po telefonu, glasno, nepovezano z okolico, z nesmiselnimi stavki ogovarjajo gledalce. Poganjajo kaos predstave, ki se je že začela, čeprav ne moremo verjeti da se je, ker je oder pred nami še vedno prazen. Gledalci zgolj postopoma spoznavajo, da je to to, da se je predstava že začela, kakofonija glasov pa se polega - postopoma slišimo le še “lahko nekaj poveste, test za snemanje imamo,” ene izmed nastopajočih, ki skrbi, da bomo pred pravim začetkom zares pripravljeni na predstavo.
In nato se dogajanje na odru prične. Nerazpoznavni kriki nastopajočih se razlegajo po dvorani, ko se same kričeč premikajo na vseh štirih plazeč ali kako drugače iščejo središče odra, ki ga naposled najdejo. Končajo skupaj. Tako predstava steče in se začne - nastopajoče končajo v skupni figuri, improvizirani prizori pa lahko stečejo. Glas je dobil svojo obliko, predstava pa formo.
Prevladujoč element predstave je - brez pretiranega presenečenja - glas nastopajočih. Njihov besedni izraz, mnenje, komunikacija (med seboj in s publiko). Poleg glasu pa prevlada tudi izrazna moč telesa. Natančneje teles. Beseda brez telesa, ki jo izreka ne more pomeniti veliko. Nekje na sredi predstave smo bili lahko priča epizodi, ki povzema njeno celotno bistvo. Igralke izrekajo besede, vendar z nezadostno mero vloženega čustva, na kar jih ena izmed Improšk opozarja. Prizor postane že rahlo komičen, ko 3 članice pojejo Parole Dalide, vendar bistvo je doseženo - besede dobijo svoje čustvo, s tem pa potencial da se prelevijo v dogodek.
Besedo moramo reči z občutkom. Jo izgovoriti, kot da jo zares tudi mislimo - vendar besedo misliti pomeni, da besedo pravzaprav občutimo. Šele tedaj lahko udejanjijo svoj potencial in se sprevržejo v dejanje. Izražamo se tako z verbalno kot s telesno govorico, a le skupaj sta razumljiva, smiselna celota. Prav to Improške vzpostavljajo tekom predstave - skozi vsako epizodo, končano s skupno figuro, ki se razkadi v tek štirih teles po odru objetih v temo predaha med igro. Igra telesnosti je skoraj tako izrazito prisotna kot igra z lastnim glasom in možno rabo besed. Telesa igralk se ne le oglašajo, njihova srečanja postanejo postopoma vse bolj fizična, neposredna, zlita v skupno gibanje znotraj dane figure, dotiki prerastejo v spontane poljube … in nato se telesa razidejo in preidejo v naslednjo epizodično dejanje. S telesom beseda postane mesena.[1]
Publika, ki je v začetni fazi eden izmed ključnih elementov predstave, kasneje kot integralni del dogajanja izgine - s skupinskim vzklikanjem ti! zavoljo krepljenja občutka krivde nastopajoče, je element publike uporabljen še zadnjič, nato pa izgine. Predvsem zaradi izhodiščno vzpostavljenega odnosa bi lahko pričakovali, da bo porušeni zid med publiko in nastopajočimi prevladujoč element predstave. Žal ni, vendar nas predstava vseeno vztrajno drži v svojih krempljih - vsaka nova slika se prične in odvije sunkovito in udarno. Nastopajoče nas soočijo z lastnimi negotovostmi, predstavljenimi skozi njihovo lastno perspektivo. Vsaka slika je ravno prav dolga, ko pa postane predolga se prelije v tek v krogu ali drugo izključno gibalno aktivnost.
Prizori so razgalili teme s katerimi se improvizatorska skupina sicer ukvarja. Skupnost, prijateljstvo, sodelovanje, vloga posameznice, ki jo igra vsakodnevno v odnosu s svojim okoljem zavzamejo svoj prostor na odru v obliki epizodnih prizorov, ki se z občasnimi humoresknimi vložki navežejo na pretekle, povečini pa ostanejo odigrani in pozabljeni. Vsaka posameznica ima svoj glas, ki ne ostane neizkoriščen. Vsaka se sooči s sebi lastnim problemom, vendar rešitev poiščejo skupaj.
Med vpraševanjem vloge posameznice v družbi vznikne tudi povsem naravna potreba po samorefleksiji - sebe, pa tudi skupine same. V predstavo se tako prikrade vprašanje - sem jaz dovolj? in ali moram biti res vedno jaz gonilo te skupine? Impro predstva postane polje, ko nastopajoče izrečejo kar jim leži na duši, kot skupina pa bodo vrženo temo primorane predelati. Posamezna nastopajoča ni nikoli povsem prepuščena sama sebi, vedno je del skupine. Vprašanje sebe v predstavi je neizogibno povezano z vprašanjem kaj pomeni biti del skupine in delovati skupaj. Odgovor Improšk ponazarja moč skupnosti - sistema opore najbližjih, ki te vedno izvlečejo iz tebi lastnega dna in nad tabo ne obupajo.
Razmišljanja o predstavi je zapisala Tina Tomšič.
Goli odziv / Naked response 2018
Čaka Čaka
petek, 23. 11. 2018 ob 21h
3. festivalski dan
Prizorišče: Stara mestna elektrarna - Elektro Ljubljana
Zamisel in igra: Alenka Marinič, Hannu Risku, Julie Doyelle, Matthieu Loos
Glasba: Hannu Risku
Luč: Borut Cajnko
Večina slovenskih odrov, ki gosti improvizirane predstave, se ne ponaša z ogromnimi dimenzijami.
Ponavadi gre za manjše ali srednje velike odre, ki so sicer za tovrstne predstave ravno pravšnji.
Vsaki dve leti, ko se impro ustavi v Stari mestni elektrarni, pa velja prostor, ki je na voljo, dobro izkoristiti.
In tega so se dobro lotili Julie Doyelle, Matthieu Loos, Alenka Marinič in Hannu Risku v predstavi Čakačaka.
Že sama odločitev, da so glasbenika postavili na sredino odra, je nakazala, da bo prostor igral pomembno vlogo v predstavi. Začetno divje raziskovanje prostora ob ritmih bobnov je fokus bolj kot na karkoli drugega usmerilo na telesa improvizatorjev, ne njihovo gibanje in na odnose med njimi. Energija je omogočila napetost prvi zgodbi, ta se je elegantno prepletla z drugo, ta s tretjo in tako naprej. Kolaž zgodb se je pred našimi očmi odvijal organsko, vse so se stekale v isto reko. V zgodbah so si upali biti grdi, drznili so si odkriti prizore, ki so gledalcem težko prijetni, čeprav iz njih morda izzovejo smeh. Smešno se je stopilo s tragičnim.
Kdo ima moč? Kdo je zatirani in kdo zatiralec? To sta vprašanji, ki sta se vračali iz prizora v prizor, pa najsi bo to moč v ljubezenskem razmerju, politična moč ali pa totalna oblast nad človekom. Improvizator in improvizatorki so se v tem ping pongu moči izmenjevali, enkrat je bil na začetku (in na koncu) prehranjevalne verige en, drugič drug. Pri tem je bilo vsakič razvidno, da si med seboj zaupajo in da se bo še iz najmanjše ponudbe lahko razvila akcija. Vzeli so si čas, zgodbe so gradili počasi, občinstvo pa stalno držali vključeno.
Na koncu je kača kača ugriznila v svoj rep, Hannu in improvizatorji so se zgodb otresli. Koščke njih pa smo vendarle odnesli s seboj. Čaka čaka!
- Jošt Jesenovec
3. festivalski dan
Prizorišče: Stara mestna elektrarna - Elektro Ljubljana
Zamisel in igra: Alenka Marinič, Hannu Risku, Julie Doyelle, Matthieu Loos
Glasba: Hannu Risku
Luč: Borut Cajnko
Večina slovenskih odrov, ki gosti improvizirane predstave, se ne ponaša z ogromnimi dimenzijami.
Ponavadi gre za manjše ali srednje velike odre, ki so sicer za tovrstne predstave ravno pravšnji.
Vsaki dve leti, ko se impro ustavi v Stari mestni elektrarni, pa velja prostor, ki je na voljo, dobro izkoristiti.
In tega so se dobro lotili Julie Doyelle, Matthieu Loos, Alenka Marinič in Hannu Risku v predstavi Čakačaka.
Že sama odločitev, da so glasbenika postavili na sredino odra, je nakazala, da bo prostor igral pomembno vlogo v predstavi. Začetno divje raziskovanje prostora ob ritmih bobnov je fokus bolj kot na karkoli drugega usmerilo na telesa improvizatorjev, ne njihovo gibanje in na odnose med njimi. Energija je omogočila napetost prvi zgodbi, ta se je elegantno prepletla z drugo, ta s tretjo in tako naprej. Kolaž zgodb se je pred našimi očmi odvijal organsko, vse so se stekale v isto reko. V zgodbah so si upali biti grdi, drznili so si odkriti prizore, ki so gledalcem težko prijetni, čeprav iz njih morda izzovejo smeh. Smešno se je stopilo s tragičnim.
Kdo ima moč? Kdo je zatirani in kdo zatiralec? To sta vprašanji, ki sta se vračali iz prizora v prizor, pa najsi bo to moč v ljubezenskem razmerju, politična moč ali pa totalna oblast nad človekom. Improvizator in improvizatorki so se v tem ping pongu moči izmenjevali, enkrat je bil na začetku (in na koncu) prehranjevalne verige en, drugič drug. Pri tem je bilo vsakič razvidno, da si med seboj zaupajo in da se bo še iz najmanjše ponudbe lahko razvila akcija. Vzeli so si čas, zgodbe so gradili počasi, občinstvo pa stalno držali vključeno.
Na koncu je kača kača ugriznila v svoj rep, Hannu in improvizatorji so se zgodb otresli. Koščke njih pa smo vendarle odnesli s seboj. Čaka čaka!
- Jošt Jesenovec
I Am an Envelope
1st Day of the festival
Wednesday, 21 November 2018
Venue: Stara mestna elektrarna - Elektro Ljubljana
Concept and directing: Matthieu Loos
Performers: Alenka Marinič, Julie Doyelle, Ladislav Karda, Lee White, Michaela Puchalková,
Urša Strehar Benčina, Vanda Gabrielova, Vid Sodnik
Music: Goran Završnik, Hannu Risku
Lights: Borut Cajnko
I am an envelope was a show full of captivating atmospheres, positive support and uncomfortable confusion. Building on the idea of territorial identity, the format draw a very interesting line by separating the improvisers into opposite-identity groups: I am European & I am Non-European, I am an English native speaker & I am an English non-native speaker, etc. Although the countries of origin were mentioned, the audience was unaware of who exactly was from where, which made the improvisators’ answers to the questions even more personal and maybe less pressured by the stereotypes.
Surprisingly, the improvisers almost never built upon the opposition proposed by the questions, leading to very positive scenes where support among the performers was one of the main pillars. Such a non-confrontational approach to the format gave the improvisers the opportunity to play with their identities as a form on inclusion instead of exclusion. Ironically, the ten improvisers did not balance their appearances along the show: some of them were too present, some of them were not given the space to participate. On the other hand, making the musicians, Goran Završnik and Hannu Risku, adhere to the format rules was a very wise choice, as it made the audience more aware of their presence or absence as they are also part of the improvising group.
The little instructions given by director Matthieu Loos gave all scenes a very interesting starting point that was supported by the division of the space created by the light technician. Most of the time the improvisers managed to create very interesting atmospheres by playing with the contrasts. However, a lot of times the lights failed to support the improvisers’ decision to change places or the ambient of the scene. In addition, a lot of the scenes did lack a clear background story that would have helped the audience understand the relationships, the decisions, the change of emotions, etc., leading to confusing scenes for both the audience and the improvisers. As a consequence, the concept of identity seemed to get lost in many of the scenes, disconnecting them from the overall idea of the show and failing to communicate to the public the connection between the format, the improvisers, the show and the festival in general.
Nevertheless, taking into account the little rehearsal time the ten amazing improvisers from such different backgrounds had, the show was built upon a very interesting tension based on silence, space division and lights’ atmosphere that kept the audience engaged. And even when all ten improvisers were on stage, there was a clear commitment to listen to each other, support each other’s ideas and have fun together as envelopes.
- Rocío Barquilla
Wednesday, 21 November 2018
Venue: Stara mestna elektrarna - Elektro Ljubljana
Concept and directing: Matthieu Loos
Performers: Alenka Marinič, Julie Doyelle, Ladislav Karda, Lee White, Michaela Puchalková,
Urša Strehar Benčina, Vanda Gabrielova, Vid Sodnik
Music: Goran Završnik, Hannu Risku
Lights: Borut Cajnko
I am an envelope was a show full of captivating atmospheres, positive support and uncomfortable confusion. Building on the idea of territorial identity, the format draw a very interesting line by separating the improvisers into opposite-identity groups: I am European & I am Non-European, I am an English native speaker & I am an English non-native speaker, etc. Although the countries of origin were mentioned, the audience was unaware of who exactly was from where, which made the improvisators’ answers to the questions even more personal and maybe less pressured by the stereotypes.
Surprisingly, the improvisers almost never built upon the opposition proposed by the questions, leading to very positive scenes where support among the performers was one of the main pillars. Such a non-confrontational approach to the format gave the improvisers the opportunity to play with their identities as a form on inclusion instead of exclusion. Ironically, the ten improvisers did not balance their appearances along the show: some of them were too present, some of them were not given the space to participate. On the other hand, making the musicians, Goran Završnik and Hannu Risku, adhere to the format rules was a very wise choice, as it made the audience more aware of their presence or absence as they are also part of the improvising group.
The little instructions given by director Matthieu Loos gave all scenes a very interesting starting point that was supported by the division of the space created by the light technician. Most of the time the improvisers managed to create very interesting atmospheres by playing with the contrasts. However, a lot of times the lights failed to support the improvisers’ decision to change places or the ambient of the scene. In addition, a lot of the scenes did lack a clear background story that would have helped the audience understand the relationships, the decisions, the change of emotions, etc., leading to confusing scenes for both the audience and the improvisers. As a consequence, the concept of identity seemed to get lost in many of the scenes, disconnecting them from the overall idea of the show and failing to communicate to the public the connection between the format, the improvisers, the show and the festival in general.
Nevertheless, taking into account the little rehearsal time the ten amazing improvisers from such different backgrounds had, the show was built upon a very interesting tension based on silence, space division and lights’ atmosphere that kept the audience engaged. And even when all ten improvisers were on stage, there was a clear commitment to listen to each other, support each other’s ideas and have fun together as envelopes.
- Rocío Barquilla
Childhood in Flashbacks
2nd Day Of The Festival
Thursday, 22rd November at 7pm
Venue: Stara mestna elektrarna - Elektro Ljubljana
Concept and directing: Michaela Puchalková
Performers: Julie Doyelle, Ladislav Karda, Matthieu Loos, Sara Šoukal,
Tomaž Lapajne Dekleva, Vanda Gabrielova
Music: Goran Završnik
Lights: Borut Cajnko
There was a certain boldness in the air on the second night of the Naked Stage. The setting was vast and impressive; two pairs of chairs on each side were engulfed by the broad blackness of the stage and curtains. This offered a lot of room and freedom from the very beginning. What is more, it opened up the question: Where are the boundaries of this playing field and how will they be pushed? Before the lights went down, the director of the show urged the performers to go with their impulses, giving them even more flexibility to explore – and so, this was the time to begin.
Filling such a space is no small task. But there really was a certain boldness in the air and thus, the stage was immediately challenged by a solo performance. This very first scene already explored the space behind the curtain, representing only an introduction to what was yet to come. The openness of the format allowed for anything to happen and the ensemble truly made good use of this. The audience was offered a variety of characters, emotions, intense movements and stories that were loosely pieced together. Some were even reinterpreted, offering a different viewpoint to a previous scene. Such references were especially appreciated in those cases, where loose ends of an earlier story were woven together into a whole. Seeing the actors work together to make sense of the storyline was a pleasant sight, despite some of the narration remaining enigmatic.
It was apparent that the ensemble was discovering its artistic expression in the moment, which was undoubtably led by inspirational music. The latter was a key component to the evolution of most scenes, as audience suggestions played no role that night. This might have been one of the reasons for a certain feeling of disconnectedness with the spectators. They were certainly watching an inventive performance, yet they were not invited to take part in it. On the other hand, this could also be seen as a bold move by the director, who only asked the audience members to clap when an impulse calls for it. Sometimes, one must leave the inspiration to the stage itself, so the actors can uncover a more inward approach to their performance. Such acts shed a light on the importance of cooperation, support and timing in the cast and deserve their praise. Unfortunately, in some cases, the puzzle fit so neatly together on stage, but wasn't followed by an equally impressive reaction on the lights, which would have been the cherry on top. However, this goes to show the complexity and risk of the artform and the immense satisfaction one gets when everything aligns. We were privileged to have experienced some of these moments that evening. In the end, the cast rightfully aligned one final time to bow their heads to art, freedom and boldness.
-Teja Goli
Thursday, 22rd November at 7pm
Venue: Stara mestna elektrarna - Elektro Ljubljana
Concept and directing: Michaela Puchalková
Performers: Julie Doyelle, Ladislav Karda, Matthieu Loos, Sara Šoukal,
Tomaž Lapajne Dekleva, Vanda Gabrielova
Music: Goran Završnik
Lights: Borut Cajnko
There was a certain boldness in the air on the second night of the Naked Stage. The setting was vast and impressive; two pairs of chairs on each side were engulfed by the broad blackness of the stage and curtains. This offered a lot of room and freedom from the very beginning. What is more, it opened up the question: Where are the boundaries of this playing field and how will they be pushed? Before the lights went down, the director of the show urged the performers to go with their impulses, giving them even more flexibility to explore – and so, this was the time to begin.
Filling such a space is no small task. But there really was a certain boldness in the air and thus, the stage was immediately challenged by a solo performance. This very first scene already explored the space behind the curtain, representing only an introduction to what was yet to come. The openness of the format allowed for anything to happen and the ensemble truly made good use of this. The audience was offered a variety of characters, emotions, intense movements and stories that were loosely pieced together. Some were even reinterpreted, offering a different viewpoint to a previous scene. Such references were especially appreciated in those cases, where loose ends of an earlier story were woven together into a whole. Seeing the actors work together to make sense of the storyline was a pleasant sight, despite some of the narration remaining enigmatic.
It was apparent that the ensemble was discovering its artistic expression in the moment, which was undoubtably led by inspirational music. The latter was a key component to the evolution of most scenes, as audience suggestions played no role that night. This might have been one of the reasons for a certain feeling of disconnectedness with the spectators. They were certainly watching an inventive performance, yet they were not invited to take part in it. On the other hand, this could also be seen as a bold move by the director, who only asked the audience members to clap when an impulse calls for it. Sometimes, one must leave the inspiration to the stage itself, so the actors can uncover a more inward approach to their performance. Such acts shed a light on the importance of cooperation, support and timing in the cast and deserve their praise. Unfortunately, in some cases, the puzzle fit so neatly together on stage, but wasn't followed by an equally impressive reaction on the lights, which would have been the cherry on top. However, this goes to show the complexity and risk of the artform and the immense satisfaction one gets when everything aligns. We were privileged to have experienced some of these moments that evening. In the end, the cast rightfully aligned one final time to bow their heads to art, freedom and boldness.
-Teja Goli
Jaz, ovojnica
Prizorišče: Stara mestna elektrarna - Elektro Ljubljana
Zamisel in režija: Matthieu Loos
Igra: Alenka Marinič, Julie Doyelle, Ladislav Karda, Lee White, Michaela Puchalková, Urša Strehar Benčina, Vanda Gabrielova, Vid Sodnik
Glasba: Goran Završnik, Hannu Risku
Luč: Borut Cajnko
Pisemska ovojnica je predmet, ki predvsem vzbuja pričakovanje. V nostalgičnem smislu pričakovanje pisma - zgodb, vtisov in čustev nečesa kar sami_e nismo doživeli_e, a nas dragi_e osebe želijo v njih vključiti. Jaz, ovojnica kot format ne želi ugoditi našim nostalgičnim pričakovanjem, želji po tem da bi se udobno zleknili_e v naslanjač in se potopili_e v udobno sentimentalno zgodbo, se povezali_e z liki in uživali_e v naraciji. Subjekti predstave so improvizatorji_ke, njihova vloga v okviru mednarodnih festivalov, fokus pa je na nas, na občinstvu, na soigralcih, na članih skupnosti. Fokus je na vprašanju zakaj želimo uokviriti drugega v model pričakovanj na podlagi nacionalnega ozadja, zakaj želimo ljudi reducirati na kratke anekdotične zgodbe, ki nam nudijo udobje v vedenju, da smo imeli prav v svojih pričakovanjih.
Mathieu Loos je s svojimi režiserskimi vložki posegal v udobje tega, da bi vsi počeli to kar znamo in poznamo – pripovedovali zgodbe, se poigravali s stereotipi in uživali v doseganju pričakovanj in občasni nevarnosti nesporazuma. Vendar s formatom v tem ni radikalen – dal je prostor nacionalnim stereotipom, se poigraval s pričakovanimi in preizkušenimi prijemi predstav z mednarodno zasedbo – kot je prizor v katerem vsak govori svoj materni jezik. V skladu s projektom Our Lives je bilo sredstvo preseganja stereotipov, ukalupljanju impovizatork_jev v kategorije narodnosti, povezovanje na ravni osebnih izkušenj in prepričanj. Tako smo lahko videli, kako koncepti, ki se pogosto razumejo kot samoumevni – npr. delitve Evrope na vzhod-zahod, v živetih človeških izkušnjah niso tako jasni oziroma zadobijo ambivalentne oblike. V tem smislu je bila uvodna predstava 14. festivala Goli oder zelo pogumno zastavljena – izpostaviti stereotipe, samoumevnosti in pričakovanja kot nekaj kar nam omejuje pristen stik tako med igralci kot igralci in publiko, ter iskanje novih poti za vzpostavljanje stika – preko bolj osebnih komponent. Kar se je z lupljenjem stereotipom izkazalo je, da se pod vsako simplifikacijo skrivajo nove in nove plasti s katerimi se uokvirjamo. Nihče vpleten v predstavo ni izvzet iz ideologije, ki subjekt posplošuje na (nacionalnie) stereotipe, zato so se ti vedno znova prikradli v prizore, v glasbeno podlago, v režiserjeva vprašanja. Včasih dobesedno, včasih implicitno, a Jaz, ovojnica si kot predstava že spočetka ni delala utvar, da lahko ukine okvirje, ki utesnjujejo posameznika.
Ravno zato smo imeli_e možnost doživeti resnično velik razpon vsega kar impro lahko ponuja. Od skupinskih kompoziciji, kot je bil uvodni prizor, ki so se prostorsko in čustveno igrale z razdaljami in bližino ter pojmi naši_e-njihovi_e, do prizorov dvojic s kompleksno čustveno dinamiko, generacijski razkol, strast in nelagodje in kompleksnih skupinskih prizorov in solo prizora. Dotaknili_e smo se več zahtevnih tako osebnih kot političnih tem, šli_e v zahtevne stvari kot od kje izvira fašizem, tudi pekel nam ni ušel. Improvizatorji_ke so se spretno poigravali z vsemi elementi, ki jih prostor določa in predstavo zaključili na najbolj evropski možen način – z »eurotrash« plesom. Tudi če je bila predstava na trenutke raztresena in smo se vsi malo iskali_e, je izkušenost popeljala improvizatorje_ke do zaključka, ki smo ga vsi_e potrebovali_e in vedno znova spaja evropske narode na njihov najmanjši skupni imenovalec – prepustitev slabi plesni glasbi.
Velika prednost koncepta s katerim se Jaz, ovojnica in širše »Our Lives« igra je, da marsikaj česar ne maramo ali celo sovražimo (odtujenost, nacionalizem, stereotipizacija, trpjenje) vendarle je nesporen del naše izkušnje in si s tem zasluži pripoznanje in reprezentacijo. Pri predstavi Jaz, ovojnica gre v marsičem za iskanje strategij sobivanja konceptov, ki jih razumemo kot binarna nasprotja – zahod/vzhod, ljubezen/sovraštvo, skupnost/posameznik, bližina/distanca,.. Tak proces ni vedno naraven, organski in lahkoten in ne da vedno rešitev ali zaključkov s katerimi bi se vsi strinjali, zato tudi za gledalca_ko, ni vedno prijetna in udobna. Element ugodja je zabrisan s tem, da je trud viden in ne porodi vedno rezultatov. Ta proces igre z binarnimi nasprotji je posebno podčrtala tudi luč, ki je ustvarjala na videz hermetično zaprta polja in smo lahko videli nelagodje igralcev, ki so zavoljo zgodbe, zavoljo stika, želeli_e izstopiti iz svojega polja, a so se pri tem morali_e boriti s formalnimi omejitvami – tako je prizor med sestrama/sosedama zadobil dodatno simbolno težo – premiki so težki in se ne zgodijo vedno tako zlahka. Naša življenja se ne odvijajo na jasnih binarnih razmejitvah, a to ne pomeni da nismo z njimi močno zaznamovane_i. Bolj kot jasna enotna zgodba o lepoti raznolikosti, ki bi jo lahko prodajal uvodni večer 14. Golega odra, nam je predstava ponudila vpogled v to, da je iskanje stika delo, ki zahteva investicijo in ta proces ni preprost in lahkotno spontan. Improvizacija potrebuje tudi distanco, tudi nesporazume, oklevanja in stereotipizacije, da lahko ustvari trenutke ko se zgodijo »čarobne povezave«.
-Eva Jus
Zamisel in režija: Matthieu Loos
Igra: Alenka Marinič, Julie Doyelle, Ladislav Karda, Lee White, Michaela Puchalková, Urša Strehar Benčina, Vanda Gabrielova, Vid Sodnik
Glasba: Goran Završnik, Hannu Risku
Luč: Borut Cajnko
Pisemska ovojnica je predmet, ki predvsem vzbuja pričakovanje. V nostalgičnem smislu pričakovanje pisma - zgodb, vtisov in čustev nečesa kar sami_e nismo doživeli_e, a nas dragi_e osebe želijo v njih vključiti. Jaz, ovojnica kot format ne želi ugoditi našim nostalgičnim pričakovanjem, želji po tem da bi se udobno zleknili_e v naslanjač in se potopili_e v udobno sentimentalno zgodbo, se povezali_e z liki in uživali_e v naraciji. Subjekti predstave so improvizatorji_ke, njihova vloga v okviru mednarodnih festivalov, fokus pa je na nas, na občinstvu, na soigralcih, na članih skupnosti. Fokus je na vprašanju zakaj želimo uokviriti drugega v model pričakovanj na podlagi nacionalnega ozadja, zakaj želimo ljudi reducirati na kratke anekdotične zgodbe, ki nam nudijo udobje v vedenju, da smo imeli prav v svojih pričakovanjih.
Mathieu Loos je s svojimi režiserskimi vložki posegal v udobje tega, da bi vsi počeli to kar znamo in poznamo – pripovedovali zgodbe, se poigravali s stereotipi in uživali v doseganju pričakovanj in občasni nevarnosti nesporazuma. Vendar s formatom v tem ni radikalen – dal je prostor nacionalnim stereotipom, se poigraval s pričakovanimi in preizkušenimi prijemi predstav z mednarodno zasedbo – kot je prizor v katerem vsak govori svoj materni jezik. V skladu s projektom Our Lives je bilo sredstvo preseganja stereotipov, ukalupljanju impovizatork_jev v kategorije narodnosti, povezovanje na ravni osebnih izkušenj in prepričanj. Tako smo lahko videli, kako koncepti, ki se pogosto razumejo kot samoumevni – npr. delitve Evrope na vzhod-zahod, v živetih človeških izkušnjah niso tako jasni oziroma zadobijo ambivalentne oblike. V tem smislu je bila uvodna predstava 14. festivala Goli oder zelo pogumno zastavljena – izpostaviti stereotipe, samoumevnosti in pričakovanja kot nekaj kar nam omejuje pristen stik tako med igralci kot igralci in publiko, ter iskanje novih poti za vzpostavljanje stika – preko bolj osebnih komponent. Kar se je z lupljenjem stereotipom izkazalo je, da se pod vsako simplifikacijo skrivajo nove in nove plasti s katerimi se uokvirjamo. Nihče vpleten v predstavo ni izvzet iz ideologije, ki subjekt posplošuje na (nacionalnie) stereotipe, zato so se ti vedno znova prikradli v prizore, v glasbeno podlago, v režiserjeva vprašanja. Včasih dobesedno, včasih implicitno, a Jaz, ovojnica si kot predstava že spočetka ni delala utvar, da lahko ukine okvirje, ki utesnjujejo posameznika.
Ravno zato smo imeli_e možnost doživeti resnično velik razpon vsega kar impro lahko ponuja. Od skupinskih kompoziciji, kot je bil uvodni prizor, ki so se prostorsko in čustveno igrale z razdaljami in bližino ter pojmi naši_e-njihovi_e, do prizorov dvojic s kompleksno čustveno dinamiko, generacijski razkol, strast in nelagodje in kompleksnih skupinskih prizorov in solo prizora. Dotaknili_e smo se več zahtevnih tako osebnih kot političnih tem, šli_e v zahtevne stvari kot od kje izvira fašizem, tudi pekel nam ni ušel. Improvizatorji_ke so se spretno poigravali z vsemi elementi, ki jih prostor določa in predstavo zaključili na najbolj evropski možen način – z »eurotrash« plesom. Tudi če je bila predstava na trenutke raztresena in smo se vsi malo iskali_e, je izkušenost popeljala improvizatorje_ke do zaključka, ki smo ga vsi_e potrebovali_e in vedno znova spaja evropske narode na njihov najmanjši skupni imenovalec – prepustitev slabi plesni glasbi.
Velika prednost koncepta s katerim se Jaz, ovojnica in širše »Our Lives« igra je, da marsikaj česar ne maramo ali celo sovražimo (odtujenost, nacionalizem, stereotipizacija, trpjenje) vendarle je nesporen del naše izkušnje in si s tem zasluži pripoznanje in reprezentacijo. Pri predstavi Jaz, ovojnica gre v marsičem za iskanje strategij sobivanja konceptov, ki jih razumemo kot binarna nasprotja – zahod/vzhod, ljubezen/sovraštvo, skupnost/posameznik, bližina/distanca,.. Tak proces ni vedno naraven, organski in lahkoten in ne da vedno rešitev ali zaključkov s katerimi bi se vsi strinjali, zato tudi za gledalca_ko, ni vedno prijetna in udobna. Element ugodja je zabrisan s tem, da je trud viden in ne porodi vedno rezultatov. Ta proces igre z binarnimi nasprotji je posebno podčrtala tudi luč, ki je ustvarjala na videz hermetično zaprta polja in smo lahko videli nelagodje igralcev, ki so zavoljo zgodbe, zavoljo stika, želeli_e izstopiti iz svojega polja, a so se pri tem morali_e boriti s formalnimi omejitvami – tako je prizor med sestrama/sosedama zadobil dodatno simbolno težo – premiki so težki in se ne zgodijo vedno tako zlahka. Naša življenja se ne odvijajo na jasnih binarnih razmejitvah, a to ne pomeni da nismo z njimi močno zaznamovane_i. Bolj kot jasna enotna zgodba o lepoti raznolikosti, ki bi jo lahko prodajal uvodni večer 14. Golega odra, nam je predstava ponudila vpogled v to, da je iskanje stika delo, ki zahteva investicijo in ta proces ni preprost in lahkotno spontan. Improvizacija potrebuje tudi distanco, tudi nesporazume, oklevanja in stereotipizacije, da lahko ustvari trenutke ko se zgodijo »čarobne povezave«.
-Eva Jus
Povabilo na ples
3. festivalski dan
petek, 23. november ob 19.00
Prizorišče: Stara mestna elektrarna - Elektro Ljubljana
Zamisel: Maja Dekleva Lapajne
Igra: Julie Doyelle, Ladislav Karda, Lee White, Michaela Puchalková, Peter Frankl, Rok Bohinc,
Tomaž Lapajne Dekleva, Urša Strehar Benčina, Vanda Gabrielova in drugi
Glasba: Hannu Risku
Luč: Borut Cajnko
Povabilo na ples je format, ki navidezno steno med igralkami in gledalkami prebija še veliko bolj, kot smo tega vajeni pri pogosteje videnih improvizacijskih formatih. Pri njem se dogajanje na odru ne zgodi na podlagi navdiha iz besednih predlogov, ki jih podajo gledalke, sedeče na svojih sedežih, temveč se v njem vloga igralk preliva z vlogami gledalk – seveda le, če slednje sprejmejo povabilo na ples, ki je pravzaprav povabilo k soustvarjanju odrskega dogodka.
S tem se zmanjšuje distanca med improvizatorkami in gledalkami, a dejstvo, (ki je bilo tudi poudarjeno v začetku predstave) da lahko kot gledalka kadarkoli sprejmeš ali zavrneš povabilo na oder, hkrati vzpostavlja varen prostor, kjer lahko ostaneš zgolj opazovalka, lahko pa se vključiš v ustvarjanje zgodb na odru.
Prizori, ki jih omogoča format, so sicer kratki in med seboj vsebinsko nepovezani ali ne nujno povezani,
a vsebinska povezanost ali globlja raziskovanja likov tudi niso njegov namen.
Zdi se, da je glavni namen tovrstnega formata spodbujanje igrivosti. S prizori, ki so se razprostirali od kratkih iger z enostavnimi in v naprej določenimi pravili, do daljših in bolj čustveno nabitih prizorov, so improvizatorke spodbujale skoke v spontanost, kjer pravzaprav nič ni prav ali narobe. Oder je tako deloval kot igrišče, kjer priložnostne igralke ne igrajo, temveč se igrajo. Oder se je tako vzpostavil kot intimen prostor, kjer je potrebno stvari brez strahu pred tem, da smo opazovane, preprosto preizkusiti.
Prizori, ki so se začeli s pravim povabilom na ples, in nato prešli v raziskovanje glasu, telesa, kratkih zgodb različnih žanrov, čustvenih stanj itn., so vzpostavljali dinamično vzdušje, pri čemer je bilo vsekakor prijetno spremljati odrski proces, ki se ni varno zatekal le v besede, ki jih večina ljudi prepoznava kot najbolj konvencionalno obliko interakcij, temveč je med prizore v nezanemarljivi meri vnašal tudi telesno govorico in raziskovanje zvokov, tako s pomočjo inštrumentov, kot s pomočjo glasu.
Predstava se je po številnih duetih zaokrožila z zadnjim skupinskim povabilom na ples mnogih gled-igralk. Skozi celoten potek dogodka je bilo vzpostavljano varno vzdušje za raziskovanje predlaganih iger in prizorov, zato bi bilo morda tako priložnost dobro izkoristiti za vključitev še več gledalk, ki sicer niso del improvizacijskih krogov. Celoten dogodek pa je sicer pustil prijeten vtis, kakor da spodbuja k temu, da medosebne zgodbe izgrajujemo tudi onkraj meja jezika in da opustimo težnjo po izražanju le skozi besede, ko pa lahko zgodbe gradimo tudi z zvočno ali telesno izraznostjo.
-Nina Vombergar
petek, 23. november ob 19.00
Prizorišče: Stara mestna elektrarna - Elektro Ljubljana
Zamisel: Maja Dekleva Lapajne
Igra: Julie Doyelle, Ladislav Karda, Lee White, Michaela Puchalková, Peter Frankl, Rok Bohinc,
Tomaž Lapajne Dekleva, Urša Strehar Benčina, Vanda Gabrielova in drugi
Glasba: Hannu Risku
Luč: Borut Cajnko
Povabilo na ples je format, ki navidezno steno med igralkami in gledalkami prebija še veliko bolj, kot smo tega vajeni pri pogosteje videnih improvizacijskih formatih. Pri njem se dogajanje na odru ne zgodi na podlagi navdiha iz besednih predlogov, ki jih podajo gledalke, sedeče na svojih sedežih, temveč se v njem vloga igralk preliva z vlogami gledalk – seveda le, če slednje sprejmejo povabilo na ples, ki je pravzaprav povabilo k soustvarjanju odrskega dogodka.
S tem se zmanjšuje distanca med improvizatorkami in gledalkami, a dejstvo, (ki je bilo tudi poudarjeno v začetku predstave) da lahko kot gledalka kadarkoli sprejmeš ali zavrneš povabilo na oder, hkrati vzpostavlja varen prostor, kjer lahko ostaneš zgolj opazovalka, lahko pa se vključiš v ustvarjanje zgodb na odru.
Prizori, ki jih omogoča format, so sicer kratki in med seboj vsebinsko nepovezani ali ne nujno povezani,
a vsebinska povezanost ali globlja raziskovanja likov tudi niso njegov namen.
Zdi se, da je glavni namen tovrstnega formata spodbujanje igrivosti. S prizori, ki so se razprostirali od kratkih iger z enostavnimi in v naprej določenimi pravili, do daljših in bolj čustveno nabitih prizorov, so improvizatorke spodbujale skoke v spontanost, kjer pravzaprav nič ni prav ali narobe. Oder je tako deloval kot igrišče, kjer priložnostne igralke ne igrajo, temveč se igrajo. Oder se je tako vzpostavil kot intimen prostor, kjer je potrebno stvari brez strahu pred tem, da smo opazovane, preprosto preizkusiti.
Prizori, ki so se začeli s pravim povabilom na ples, in nato prešli v raziskovanje glasu, telesa, kratkih zgodb različnih žanrov, čustvenih stanj itn., so vzpostavljali dinamično vzdušje, pri čemer je bilo vsekakor prijetno spremljati odrski proces, ki se ni varno zatekal le v besede, ki jih večina ljudi prepoznava kot najbolj konvencionalno obliko interakcij, temveč je med prizore v nezanemarljivi meri vnašal tudi telesno govorico in raziskovanje zvokov, tako s pomočjo inštrumentov, kot s pomočjo glasu.
Predstava se je po številnih duetih zaokrožila z zadnjim skupinskim povabilom na ples mnogih gled-igralk. Skozi celoten potek dogodka je bilo vzpostavljano varno vzdušje za raziskovanje predlaganih iger in prizorov, zato bi bilo morda tako priložnost dobro izkoristiti za vključitev še več gledalk, ki sicer niso del improvizacijskih krogov. Celoten dogodek pa je sicer pustil prijeten vtis, kakor da spodbuja k temu, da medosebne zgodbe izgrajujemo tudi onkraj meja jezika in da opustimo težnjo po izražanju le skozi besede, ko pa lahko zgodbe gradimo tudi z zvočno ali telesno izraznostjo.
-Nina Vombergar
Chaka Chaka
3rd festival day
Friday, 23rd November, 9pm
Venue: Stara mestna elektrarna - Elektro Ljubljana
Concept and performing: Alenka Marinič, Hannu Risku, Julie Doyelle, Matthieu Loos
Music: Hannu Risku
Lights: Borut Cajnko
When the foundation of a show is to convey feelings, the audience cannot help to give it meaning on their own. For me, Chaka chaka was a show where four playful kids confronted big human passions: jealousy, complicity, lust, rejection, disdain, satisfaction, hope, humiliation, despair, etc. Delightedly, these passions also turned into very strong power dynamics between the characters that forced the audience to get invested.
Brilliantly, the beginning and the ending of the show was full of passion and energy: a sick shaking drum session that forced the improvisers to explode by running, jumping, twisting, trembling and freezing in exhaustion. As a consequence, during the show the improvisers interacted with the stage by moving around a lot, getting in/out or even playing from behind the curtains. Moreover, this explosive beginning seemed to set up a structure for the rest of the show based on the change of tempos (like going from running to lying still on the floor) and on the causal interaction among the improvisers (like moving around in complete disconnection until they bump into each other).
Julie Doyelle, Matthieu Loos and Alenka Marinič did not lose their playfulness even when the scenes seemed to come to a confusing dead end. Instead, they managed to listen to each other carefully, build tension trough strong physicality, take advantage of the silence and confront each other’s feelings. In several occasions, such complicity materialized into a level of absurdity that made the audience laugh.
Because the show was built on impulsive sensations, a lot of scenes did not have a clear idea behind them and the transition between them was somehow confusing. Part of the audience was engaged in this abstraction, but the rest may have gotten lost. However, the improvisers managed to recycle previous movements, punch lines and content, which established some kind of continuity along this collage of scenes.
Last but not least, one of the main attractions of Chaka chaka was precisely to place the musician in the center of the stage, allowing him to face the audience from the spotlight -a place rarely handed over to impro musicians-. Despite this daring decision, Hannu Risku was not always given the space to play in the spotlight along the rest of the improvisers. Nevertheless, he managed to surprise the audience by bringing up not only one, but two hidden instruments in the middle of the show: a melodica and a small guitar. A pleasant surprise that chaka chaka things up!
-Rocío Barquilla
Friday, 23rd November, 9pm
Venue: Stara mestna elektrarna - Elektro Ljubljana
Concept and performing: Alenka Marinič, Hannu Risku, Julie Doyelle, Matthieu Loos
Music: Hannu Risku
Lights: Borut Cajnko
When the foundation of a show is to convey feelings, the audience cannot help to give it meaning on their own. For me, Chaka chaka was a show where four playful kids confronted big human passions: jealousy, complicity, lust, rejection, disdain, satisfaction, hope, humiliation, despair, etc. Delightedly, these passions also turned into very strong power dynamics between the characters that forced the audience to get invested.
Brilliantly, the beginning and the ending of the show was full of passion and energy: a sick shaking drum session that forced the improvisers to explode by running, jumping, twisting, trembling and freezing in exhaustion. As a consequence, during the show the improvisers interacted with the stage by moving around a lot, getting in/out or even playing from behind the curtains. Moreover, this explosive beginning seemed to set up a structure for the rest of the show based on the change of tempos (like going from running to lying still on the floor) and on the causal interaction among the improvisers (like moving around in complete disconnection until they bump into each other).
Julie Doyelle, Matthieu Loos and Alenka Marinič did not lose their playfulness even when the scenes seemed to come to a confusing dead end. Instead, they managed to listen to each other carefully, build tension trough strong physicality, take advantage of the silence and confront each other’s feelings. In several occasions, such complicity materialized into a level of absurdity that made the audience laugh.
Because the show was built on impulsive sensations, a lot of scenes did not have a clear idea behind them and the transition between them was somehow confusing. Part of the audience was engaged in this abstraction, but the rest may have gotten lost. However, the improvisers managed to recycle previous movements, punch lines and content, which established some kind of continuity along this collage of scenes.
Last but not least, one of the main attractions of Chaka chaka was precisely to place the musician in the center of the stage, allowing him to face the audience from the spotlight -a place rarely handed over to impro musicians-. Despite this daring decision, Hannu Risku was not always given the space to play in the spotlight along the rest of the improvisers. Nevertheless, he managed to surprise the audience by bringing up not only one, but two hidden instruments in the middle of the show: a melodica and a small guitar. A pleasant surprise that chaka chaka things up!
-Rocío Barquilla
Z vdanostjo in lepimi pozdravi
Prizorišče: Layerjeva hiša Kranj
Zamisel in igra: Hannu Risku, Lee White, Maja Dekleva Lapajne
Glasba: Hannu Risku
Luč: Borut Cajnko
Bova že kako
(Kaj pa odnos do sebe?)
Občinstvo je že pred vhodom v dvorano povabljeno naj na veliko tablo, napiše nekaj o ljubezni. Lastne izkušnje, misli, asociacije. Kasneje se namig, da bo šlo za predstavo, ki se ukvarja z odnosi na najbolj intimni ravni, realizira v seriji različnih prizorov.
Tablo bi lahko vzela kot metaforo za reprezentacijo odnosa, ki sta ga dva pripravljena deliti z okoljem. Dvodimenzionalno sliko, ki je primerno umeščena v socialni okvir. Kar sta improvizatorja kasneje manifestirala na oder (ob izjemni glasbeni podpori) je bila 4D izkušnja, ki je naslavljala vse odnose v katerih sem se kdaj koli znašla, vključujoč lasten odnos do sebe.
Spremljamo like, ki se pojavijo na odru, hkrati pa lastne meje in kako daleč bi bili pripravljeni iti, da ostanemo zvesti dinamiki odnosa. V imenu ljubezni in intime, morda v imenu strahu pred tem, da ostanemo sami. V seriji prizorov tako ves čas spremljamo tudi lasten odnos do situacij v katerih se liki znajdejo.
Kljub naši poziciji opazovalca, smo, kot publika, povabljeni v zgodbe, saj improvizatorja gradita prizore na način, da nam nenehno ponuja možnosti identifikacije z liki.
Ko se ugasnejo luči, ugotavljamo, kaj bi kot določen lik spremenili in kaj obdržali. Kot se zgodi po tem, ko končamo intimen odnos in nam v telesu ostanejo le vtisi, ki nas vznemirjajo. Kaj bi naredili, da bi v zgodbo posamezni_ka_ce vnesli zagotovilo, da bo kot edinstven primerek človeške vrste podprti_a v lastnem izrazu?
Kot gledalki se mi odpre vrsta miselnih niti, ki jih skušam umestiti v lasten kontekst, v ušesih pa mi odzvanja zvok, ki je prihajal izpod rok fantastičnega Hannu Riskuja, kateremu je pripadal najbolj orgazmičen prizor letošnjega festivala.
Tanja Matijašević
Zamisel in igra: Hannu Risku, Lee White, Maja Dekleva Lapajne
Glasba: Hannu Risku
Luč: Borut Cajnko
Bova že kako
(Kaj pa odnos do sebe?)
Občinstvo je že pred vhodom v dvorano povabljeno naj na veliko tablo, napiše nekaj o ljubezni. Lastne izkušnje, misli, asociacije. Kasneje se namig, da bo šlo za predstavo, ki se ukvarja z odnosi na najbolj intimni ravni, realizira v seriji različnih prizorov.
Tablo bi lahko vzela kot metaforo za reprezentacijo odnosa, ki sta ga dva pripravljena deliti z okoljem. Dvodimenzionalno sliko, ki je primerno umeščena v socialni okvir. Kar sta improvizatorja kasneje manifestirala na oder (ob izjemni glasbeni podpori) je bila 4D izkušnja, ki je naslavljala vse odnose v katerih sem se kdaj koli znašla, vključujoč lasten odnos do sebe.
Spremljamo like, ki se pojavijo na odru, hkrati pa lastne meje in kako daleč bi bili pripravljeni iti, da ostanemo zvesti dinamiki odnosa. V imenu ljubezni in intime, morda v imenu strahu pred tem, da ostanemo sami. V seriji prizorov tako ves čas spremljamo tudi lasten odnos do situacij v katerih se liki znajdejo.
Kljub naši poziciji opazovalca, smo, kot publika, povabljeni v zgodbe, saj improvizatorja gradita prizore na način, da nam nenehno ponuja možnosti identifikacije z liki.
Ko se ugasnejo luči, ugotavljamo, kaj bi kot določen lik spremenili in kaj obdržali. Kot se zgodi po tem, ko končamo intimen odnos in nam v telesu ostanejo le vtisi, ki nas vznemirjajo. Kaj bi naredili, da bi v zgodbo posamezni_ka_ce vnesli zagotovilo, da bo kot edinstven primerek človeške vrste podprti_a v lastnem izrazu?
Kot gledalki se mi odpre vrsta miselnih niti, ki jih skušam umestiti v lasten kontekst, v ušesih pa mi odzvanja zvok, ki je prihajal izpod rok fantastičnega Hannu Riskuja, kateremu je pripadal najbolj orgazmičen prizor letošnjega festivala.
Tanja Matijašević
Your 15 Minutes of Fame
Thursday, November 22 at 9pm
Venue: Stara mestna elektrarna - Elektro Ljubljana
Concept and performing: Lee White
Music: Hannu Risku
Lights: Borut Cajnko
Star of the Playground
Picture this: a tropical fish who knows jack shit about improv and who’s been invited to write about it.
“Come and give us a fresh perspective”, they said. “It would be useful for us to get some feedback from someone who is a complete outsider”, they said. And I, the newborn baby that I am - said yes.
So, I get into the theatre and sit in the audience at Star Elektrarna for Lee White’s Your 15 minutes of fame with a live score by Hannu Risku.
I have no idea what to expect when Risku and his music magically appear in the left of the stage. White
strolls in and addresses the audience directly getting us to sit up and clap. No problem, I think, as I clap vigorously, I can do this. Just as long as I am not asked to walk on stage - I’am golden.
And then, naturally, everything spirals out of control.
White, who looks like a very tall feral deer/elf/crow/Goblin King taken out of a Terry Pratchett’s novel, unceremoniously asks all those who have any kind of experience with improv to sit down in what could be described as the fastest game of “Guess who” in the world.
When the weeding is over, I find myself still standing with 4 or 5 other comrades among the audience.
That’s when White declares in all his Canadianess: “Congratulations, you are the stars of the show.”
Dude, what?
Fuck no.
As I am standing there, singled out for skills and knowledge I do not possess, I feel unease, awkwardness, a little bit of betrayal.
But I am intrigued beyond my better judgement, so I don’t leave.
Instead, I sit down and start to take notice of the pressure I feel. Ok, so how long’s the show?
How many people were standing exactly? 4 or 5? Maybe I can just weather this thing out?
White takes a sip of wine and waits for the first tribute.
Several minutes go by before the first volunteer stands up an comes on stage. It’s a woman. White greets her, asks for some suggestions from the audience, gives a couple of words of reassurance and the lights go out.
When they come back on, we are looking at a couple. A man realizes what sacrifices his partner has done for him. She is shy in a way that can be mistaken for harshness. He is an easily irritated fluffy bunny. They’re at a fish market, and there is a not-so-fresh salmon involved. People are entertained and laugh. Lights go out. Applause.
Then, an another stretch of uncomfortable waiting slowly picks up. At some point, another woman says: ”Fuck it”, and comes on stage. White performs the same procedure: greeting, reassurance, suggestion from the volunteer and the audience. Lights go out. Back on.
We are looking at a couple again; they are about to make a big step in their relationship. Also, there are snow-globes and pregnancy jokes. It’s fun. Lights go out. It works again. Applause.
At this point I am wondering why the scene turned out to be a romantic relationship again, and at which point it took form and whose decision was it to establish it as such. I am entertained, but I also want to find out how White and Risku create their magic.
This is what I am thinking as I am watching another volunteer take the stage. It’s a girl this time. It’s not a romantic relationship, they are both trees. As White and the girl swing gently in the breeze, the girl-tree makes a chilling prophecy: “It’s Black Friday”, she says. And it could have become a hilarious story about witches and Black Sabbaths and dancing devils, but - unfortunately - capitalism has invaded even the most sacred of spaces, so the scene unspools as a tragic echo of rampant consumerism. The trees are only slightly bothered, though - so that’s cool.
The lights go out.
There’s an applause, then another stretch of waiting for volunteers.
Naturally, that’s when I reach my ‘fuck it!’ moment and march onto the stage, hating everything and everyone.
I am anxious as White tells me the audience already loves me - and I want to smack him and run away. People clap.
We take suggestions from the audience - I pick a food: watermelon. Lights out.
When they come back on, White is confrontational: “Did you bring this watermelon?”, he asks.
My mind goes straight to a Dirty Dancing montage (I can’t believe I am writing this), and then goes - for lack of a better word - blank.
My self-perception shifts.
I don’t really know what and how I am, you know?
So I say: “I cannot really answer that question”.
And White goes with it. The scene - for me - becomes an exercise in avoiding giving him the information he wants, by employing a very clumsy “confuse and run away” tactic. I cannot keep a straight face. Half-way through he foils my attempt to reach for some safety in the back of the stage. Step by step, however, he becomes more exasperated and I start to have more fun. The audience laughs.
I am having the time of my life (kill me with the Dirty Dancing references). When the lights go out
I don’t know exactly what White does to hold the space while shouldering all the responsibility, not only for the outcome of the show, but also for the well-being of the people he’s on stage with. But it works.
And it has to do with safety, attention, and generosity. And fun. It feels like play.
It feels like play because even at those times when White gets pushed into a tight space and needs to take tight control over the narrative, Hannu sweeps in with his music to give him a boost when needed, and a melodious smack on the head when he’s being a nob. I love Hannu. He’s great.
Corinne Brenko
Venue: Stara mestna elektrarna - Elektro Ljubljana
Concept and performing: Lee White
Music: Hannu Risku
Lights: Borut Cajnko
Star of the Playground
Picture this: a tropical fish who knows jack shit about improv and who’s been invited to write about it.
“Come and give us a fresh perspective”, they said. “It would be useful for us to get some feedback from someone who is a complete outsider”, they said. And I, the newborn baby that I am - said yes.
So, I get into the theatre and sit in the audience at Star Elektrarna for Lee White’s Your 15 minutes of fame with a live score by Hannu Risku.
I have no idea what to expect when Risku and his music magically appear in the left of the stage. White
strolls in and addresses the audience directly getting us to sit up and clap. No problem, I think, as I clap vigorously, I can do this. Just as long as I am not asked to walk on stage - I’am golden.
And then, naturally, everything spirals out of control.
White, who looks like a very tall feral deer/elf/crow/Goblin King taken out of a Terry Pratchett’s novel, unceremoniously asks all those who have any kind of experience with improv to sit down in what could be described as the fastest game of “Guess who” in the world.
When the weeding is over, I find myself still standing with 4 or 5 other comrades among the audience.
That’s when White declares in all his Canadianess: “Congratulations, you are the stars of the show.”
Dude, what?
Fuck no.
As I am standing there, singled out for skills and knowledge I do not possess, I feel unease, awkwardness, a little bit of betrayal.
But I am intrigued beyond my better judgement, so I don’t leave.
Instead, I sit down and start to take notice of the pressure I feel. Ok, so how long’s the show?
How many people were standing exactly? 4 or 5? Maybe I can just weather this thing out?
White takes a sip of wine and waits for the first tribute.
Several minutes go by before the first volunteer stands up an comes on stage. It’s a woman. White greets her, asks for some suggestions from the audience, gives a couple of words of reassurance and the lights go out.
When they come back on, we are looking at a couple. A man realizes what sacrifices his partner has done for him. She is shy in a way that can be mistaken for harshness. He is an easily irritated fluffy bunny. They’re at a fish market, and there is a not-so-fresh salmon involved. People are entertained and laugh. Lights go out. Applause.
Then, an another stretch of uncomfortable waiting slowly picks up. At some point, another woman says: ”Fuck it”, and comes on stage. White performs the same procedure: greeting, reassurance, suggestion from the volunteer and the audience. Lights go out. Back on.
We are looking at a couple again; they are about to make a big step in their relationship. Also, there are snow-globes and pregnancy jokes. It’s fun. Lights go out. It works again. Applause.
At this point I am wondering why the scene turned out to be a romantic relationship again, and at which point it took form and whose decision was it to establish it as such. I am entertained, but I also want to find out how White and Risku create their magic.
This is what I am thinking as I am watching another volunteer take the stage. It’s a girl this time. It’s not a romantic relationship, they are both trees. As White and the girl swing gently in the breeze, the girl-tree makes a chilling prophecy: “It’s Black Friday”, she says. And it could have become a hilarious story about witches and Black Sabbaths and dancing devils, but - unfortunately - capitalism has invaded even the most sacred of spaces, so the scene unspools as a tragic echo of rampant consumerism. The trees are only slightly bothered, though - so that’s cool.
The lights go out.
There’s an applause, then another stretch of waiting for volunteers.
Naturally, that’s when I reach my ‘fuck it!’ moment and march onto the stage, hating everything and everyone.
I am anxious as White tells me the audience already loves me - and I want to smack him and run away. People clap.
We take suggestions from the audience - I pick a food: watermelon. Lights out.
When they come back on, White is confrontational: “Did you bring this watermelon?”, he asks.
My mind goes straight to a Dirty Dancing montage (I can’t believe I am writing this), and then goes - for lack of a better word - blank.
My self-perception shifts.
I don’t really know what and how I am, you know?
So I say: “I cannot really answer that question”.
And White goes with it. The scene - for me - becomes an exercise in avoiding giving him the information he wants, by employing a very clumsy “confuse and run away” tactic. I cannot keep a straight face. Half-way through he foils my attempt to reach for some safety in the back of the stage. Step by step, however, he becomes more exasperated and I start to have more fun. The audience laughs.
I am having the time of my life (kill me with the Dirty Dancing references). When the lights go out
I don’t know exactly what White does to hold the space while shouldering all the responsibility, not only for the outcome of the show, but also for the well-being of the people he’s on stage with. But it works.
And it has to do with safety, attention, and generosity. And fun. It feels like play.
It feels like play because even at those times when White gets pushed into a tight space and needs to take tight control over the narrative, Hannu sweeps in with his music to give him a boost when needed, and a melodious smack on the head when he’s being a nob. I love Hannu. He’s great.
Corinne Brenko
Goli odziv / Naked response 2016
Tik pred ...
Sedim v občinstvu in gledam prvi par, ki si zre v oči. Nič se ne dogaja, pa vendar se zdi, da se je vse že zgodilo, da se vse še bo zgodilo in da je ta trenutek poln vsega, kar je bilo in kar bo. Zrak je gost. Opazim, da zadržujem dih ... kot verjetno večina občinstva. Help them breathe. Globoko vdihnem in izdihnem.
Tandem za tandemom ustvari enako intenzivno napetost. Prizori so žanrsko in vsebinsko raznoliki, ustvarjajo raznovrstne odrske podobe in organsko gradijo svoje zgodbe. Liki so živi, odzivi spontani in iskrivi, smeh iz občinstva je smeh prepoznave. Zame najlepši smeh, ki ga lahko improvizator sliši – smeh, v katerem najdemo skupno človečnost.
Maja in Juš pripovedujeta zgodbe o nastopajočih improvizatorjih. Pomislim, kaj bosta povedala o meni, kaj sem kdaj delila s katerim od njiju. Juš zgodbo začne s komentarjem, da se že dolgo poznava, pred kratkim pa je ugotovil, da je z mano možno imeti prav zanimiv in kvaliteten pogovar. Smejim se, ker delim te občutke rahlega prijetnega presenečenja, da lahko preživiva prijeten večer en z drugim. Javno prizna celo, da sva skoraj v sorodu. Priženjenem in ločenem, pa vendar.
Z Gregorjem prvič deliva oder. Gledam ga v oči in opazim, da mi divja srce. Roke se mi potijo in stegenska mišica v moji desni nogi se počasi krči in sprošča. Kot da hoče narediti korak, pa si ne upa. Pomislim na eksperiment, ki so ga nekoč naredili psihologi. Dolg most. Visok. Moški, ki so hodili preko mostu, so morali oceniti privlačnost ženske na drugi strani. Če most ni imel ograje, se jim je ženska zdela privlačnejša; preprosto zato, ker so bili bolj vznemirjeni. Zavedam se, da mi srce divja, ker sem na odru, pod reflektorji, ker me gledajo, ker je to moj prvi nastop na mednarodnem festivalu, ker je situacija preprosto vznemirljiva. Ampak pred mano so oči, ki me gledajo nazaj - še eno telo v enaki napetosti, v enakem iskrivem pričakovanju.
Moja noga se krči, komaj opazno pleše na mestu. Bi, pa si ne upam. Hočem, pa me je strah. Napetost neizbežnega je hkrati privlačna in strašljiva. Fear is excitement without breath. Globoko vdihnem in izdihnem. Prizor se začne. Nedolžnost in radovednost, igrivost in zadržanost. Prvi seks? Prvi poljub? Prvi dotik? Vsekakor se igrava z enim prvič. Prvič, ki se mora zgoditi, ampak je napetost pred toliko vnemirljivejša od dogodka samega! Kot glavi, nagnjeni v poljub, tik preden se srečajo ustnice. Kot prsti, ki se skoraj dotikajo, kot toplina, ki seva iz dveh teles in krči zrak med kožo in kožo. Igra približevanja in oddaljevanja, ki podaljšuje trenutek pred.
Prizor se zaključi brez dotika, brez poljuba, brez seksa; Borut ugasne luč.
Nova zgodba. Naslednji prizor.
- Katarina Veselko
Tandem za tandemom ustvari enako intenzivno napetost. Prizori so žanrsko in vsebinsko raznoliki, ustvarjajo raznovrstne odrske podobe in organsko gradijo svoje zgodbe. Liki so živi, odzivi spontani in iskrivi, smeh iz občinstva je smeh prepoznave. Zame najlepši smeh, ki ga lahko improvizator sliši – smeh, v katerem najdemo skupno človečnost.
Maja in Juš pripovedujeta zgodbe o nastopajočih improvizatorjih. Pomislim, kaj bosta povedala o meni, kaj sem kdaj delila s katerim od njiju. Juš zgodbo začne s komentarjem, da se že dolgo poznava, pred kratkim pa je ugotovil, da je z mano možno imeti prav zanimiv in kvaliteten pogovar. Smejim se, ker delim te občutke rahlega prijetnega presenečenja, da lahko preživiva prijeten večer en z drugim. Javno prizna celo, da sva skoraj v sorodu. Priženjenem in ločenem, pa vendar.
Z Gregorjem prvič deliva oder. Gledam ga v oči in opazim, da mi divja srce. Roke se mi potijo in stegenska mišica v moji desni nogi se počasi krči in sprošča. Kot da hoče narediti korak, pa si ne upa. Pomislim na eksperiment, ki so ga nekoč naredili psihologi. Dolg most. Visok. Moški, ki so hodili preko mostu, so morali oceniti privlačnost ženske na drugi strani. Če most ni imel ograje, se jim je ženska zdela privlačnejša; preprosto zato, ker so bili bolj vznemirjeni. Zavedam se, da mi srce divja, ker sem na odru, pod reflektorji, ker me gledajo, ker je to moj prvi nastop na mednarodnem festivalu, ker je situacija preprosto vznemirljiva. Ampak pred mano so oči, ki me gledajo nazaj - še eno telo v enaki napetosti, v enakem iskrivem pričakovanju.
Moja noga se krči, komaj opazno pleše na mestu. Bi, pa si ne upam. Hočem, pa me je strah. Napetost neizbežnega je hkrati privlačna in strašljiva. Fear is excitement without breath. Globoko vdihnem in izdihnem. Prizor se začne. Nedolžnost in radovednost, igrivost in zadržanost. Prvi seks? Prvi poljub? Prvi dotik? Vsekakor se igrava z enim prvič. Prvič, ki se mora zgoditi, ampak je napetost pred toliko vnemirljivejša od dogodka samega! Kot glavi, nagnjeni v poljub, tik preden se srečajo ustnice. Kot prsti, ki se skoraj dotikajo, kot toplina, ki seva iz dveh teles in krči zrak med kožo in kožo. Igra približevanja in oddaljevanja, ki podaljšuje trenutek pred.
Prizor se zaključi brez dotika, brez poljuba, brez seksa; Borut ugasne luč.
Nova zgodba. Naslednji prizor.
- Katarina Veselko
All The Things We Can Do Just By Looking At Each Other
The International Festival Of Improvisational Theatre Naked Stage opened its 13th edition with a collection of duos, aptly titled Tandem, that presented us with different pairs of improvisers who inaugurated their scenes just by looking at each other and seeing where it takes them. While that may seem like a recipe for disaster, it was quite far from it. At the end of the presentation one was incredibly suprised at how a similar introduction, i.e. two people gazing at each other, could produce such a variety of outcomes and also how much of it subtly covered the contemporary global conundrum.
However, it didn't start with theatre improvisation, the music had the privilege of setting all that followed. Hannu Risku and Evren Gülseven did a sonic journey that went through different homages to the early 70's progressive rock and which anticipated the modus operandi for the entire evening with its arc – all of the performances evolved gradually, the participants slowly built them until they reached the peak. One is correct when one claims that is why things felt timid at first, even though once they got going, they transformed into snapshots of different vibes and tales.
For instance, Tomaž Lapajne Dekleva and Urša Strehar Benčina did a lyrical interlude about a couple in crisis, even though their introductory silence suggested a different approach. Nonetheless, the change was justified within the piece. Surprises were also in store for Sara Šoukal and Zeynep Özyurt Tarhan's expression of the disgust over the system. Speaking of the latter, Jacob Banigan and Rok Bohinc's two ragged soldiers mocked the power of hierarchy in a way of those old war movies about boot training did. Furthermore, Gregor Moder and Katarina Veselko's did a Chaplinesque romantic comedy, filtered through the slapstick of Tex Avery. They also dealt, obliquely, with the question of barriers and closeness. The grand finale was Vid Sodnik and Koray Bülent Tarhan's meeting of two identical people that had a tinge of Samuel Beckett, if he were more of an optimist. It also ended the production on the note about understanding one another and the similarities that unite us.
While all the episodes may appear to be random, they were consistent with the theme of this year's festival. Its motto is crossing over which could manifest itself in a multitude of ways. The most obvious instance of that is crossing over a border, although it could also refer to crossing over distinct art forms in order to combine them together. However, we could also say that the slogan of the current edition of Naked Stage asks us to go beyond our comfort zone. Each of the performances touched on that, the characters within them struggled with that and there is also a sense that the phrase of the festival has a huge resonance to the modernity. The thing is that the current situation across the globe, the issues are too numerous to mention, is a product of people not willing to go outside their bubbles. We live in a world, where going outside your usual parameters is considered to be something close to a treason, even though it is the way to better humanity.
This year's festival and its opening gambit therefore began from a position that wasn't seen as socially critical a few years ago, yet it became like that recently. It is an important statement to make, especially in this period where the storm is already here and we must cross over to find the shelter. Tandem showed us we cannot do this alone, we must do it together, but we have to start by looking into each other's eyes.
- Mitja Lovše
However, it didn't start with theatre improvisation, the music had the privilege of setting all that followed. Hannu Risku and Evren Gülseven did a sonic journey that went through different homages to the early 70's progressive rock and which anticipated the modus operandi for the entire evening with its arc – all of the performances evolved gradually, the participants slowly built them until they reached the peak. One is correct when one claims that is why things felt timid at first, even though once they got going, they transformed into snapshots of different vibes and tales.
For instance, Tomaž Lapajne Dekleva and Urša Strehar Benčina did a lyrical interlude about a couple in crisis, even though their introductory silence suggested a different approach. Nonetheless, the change was justified within the piece. Surprises were also in store for Sara Šoukal and Zeynep Özyurt Tarhan's expression of the disgust over the system. Speaking of the latter, Jacob Banigan and Rok Bohinc's two ragged soldiers mocked the power of hierarchy in a way of those old war movies about boot training did. Furthermore, Gregor Moder and Katarina Veselko's did a Chaplinesque romantic comedy, filtered through the slapstick of Tex Avery. They also dealt, obliquely, with the question of barriers and closeness. The grand finale was Vid Sodnik and Koray Bülent Tarhan's meeting of two identical people that had a tinge of Samuel Beckett, if he were more of an optimist. It also ended the production on the note about understanding one another and the similarities that unite us.
While all the episodes may appear to be random, they were consistent with the theme of this year's festival. Its motto is crossing over which could manifest itself in a multitude of ways. The most obvious instance of that is crossing over a border, although it could also refer to crossing over distinct art forms in order to combine them together. However, we could also say that the slogan of the current edition of Naked Stage asks us to go beyond our comfort zone. Each of the performances touched on that, the characters within them struggled with that and there is also a sense that the phrase of the festival has a huge resonance to the modernity. The thing is that the current situation across the globe, the issues are too numerous to mention, is a product of people not willing to go outside their bubbles. We live in a world, where going outside your usual parameters is considered to be something close to a treason, even though it is the way to better humanity.
This year's festival and its opening gambit therefore began from a position that wasn't seen as socially critical a few years ago, yet it became like that recently. It is an important statement to make, especially in this period where the storm is already here and we must cross over to find the shelter. Tandem showed us we cannot do this alone, we must do it together, but we have to start by looking into each other's eyes.
- Mitja Lovše
Objekt kot navdih
Improvizatorji_ke vedno iščemo navdih. Predlogi občinstva, odzivi soigralcev_k, smeh iz publike, ponudbe, gibi, prispevek glasbenika_ce, lapsusi in nesporazumi ... Za vse to radi_e rečemo, da so darila. Vendar vsa ta darila izhajajo od sočloveka. IGLU so si za navdih izbrali stole, natančneje kup stolov, kock in miz v sredini odra, ki so jih nastopajoči_e poljubno razporejali_e po odru in uporabljali_e v prizorih.
Kako torej izgleda improvizacija, ki si za navdih vzame objekt? V prvem prizoru smo videli_e očeta, ki je skozi okno opazoval golo sosedo in sedemnajstletnega sina, ki se mu je želel pridružiti. Na neki ravni se je torej vpletla tema objektifikacije. Vendar pa smo že kmalu doživeli_e preseganje scopofiličnega motiva, saj je glavni zaplet predstavljalo razkritje sina, da mu je nekoč soseda vrnila pogled. Motiv se je kasneje ponovil v prizoru kjer je Vid od daleč opazoval fatalno Zeynep, vendar ga je v tem primeru ona izpostavila, saj ga je direktno nagovorila in njegova voajerska vloga je bila izzvana.
Zaključni prizor je v tem smislu povezal in presegel temo. Juš je skozi kocki gledal Koraya, ki je padel v luknjo in tam obležal. Naravnost ganljivo sta uspela ustavriti izjemno močno vez med likoma, kljub temu, da so ju ločevali vsi ti predmeti med njima. Oziroma, lahko bi celo dejali_e, da so ravno predmeti pomagali_e ustavriti to vez.
Zanimivo je, kako lahko odnos do objekta in objektifikacijo oseb beremo kot temo, ki se je prepletala in razgrinjala tekom celotne predstave. Čeprav je osnovna tema za navdih igranje s stolom, neodzivnim in neživim objektom, nam natančnejši vpogled v predstavo pove, da je pravo gonilo impovizacije vedno v recipročnem odnosu med osebami. Šele prava človeška povezava nam nudi možnost za poglobljen prizor v katerega smo vpeti_e vsi od nastopajočih do občinstva. Objekt je tako manj sredstvo navdiha in bolj katalizator te vezi.
V končnem prizoru med Jušem in Korayem je bil v ospredju odnos med likoma in od tu je izviral navdih. Tu so stoli resnično našli svojo vlogo kot pripomočki, kot mediji preko katerih se je razpletala ganljiva zgodba. Stoli so odličen opomin, da ne glede na to, da si za navdih prizora izberemo predmete, je improvizacija vedno stvar odnosa med ljudmi.
- Eva Jus
Kako torej izgleda improvizacija, ki si za navdih vzame objekt? V prvem prizoru smo videli_e očeta, ki je skozi okno opazoval golo sosedo in sedemnajstletnega sina, ki se mu je želel pridružiti. Na neki ravni se je torej vpletla tema objektifikacije. Vendar pa smo že kmalu doživeli_e preseganje scopofiličnega motiva, saj je glavni zaplet predstavljalo razkritje sina, da mu je nekoč soseda vrnila pogled. Motiv se je kasneje ponovil v prizoru kjer je Vid od daleč opazoval fatalno Zeynep, vendar ga je v tem primeru ona izpostavila, saj ga je direktno nagovorila in njegova voajerska vloga je bila izzvana.
Zaključni prizor je v tem smislu povezal in presegel temo. Juš je skozi kocki gledal Koraya, ki je padel v luknjo in tam obležal. Naravnost ganljivo sta uspela ustavriti izjemno močno vez med likoma, kljub temu, da so ju ločevali vsi ti predmeti med njima. Oziroma, lahko bi celo dejali_e, da so ravno predmeti pomagali_e ustavriti to vez.
Zanimivo je, kako lahko odnos do objekta in objektifikacijo oseb beremo kot temo, ki se je prepletala in razgrinjala tekom celotne predstave. Čeprav je osnovna tema za navdih igranje s stolom, neodzivnim in neživim objektom, nam natančnejši vpogled v predstavo pove, da je pravo gonilo impovizacije vedno v recipročnem odnosu med osebami. Šele prava človeška povezava nam nudi možnost za poglobljen prizor v katerega smo vpeti_e vsi od nastopajočih do občinstva. Objekt je tako manj sredstvo navdiha in bolj katalizator te vezi.
V končnem prizoru med Jušem in Korayem je bil v ospredju odnos med likoma in od tu je izviral navdih. Tu so stoli resnično našli svojo vlogo kot pripomočki, kot mediji preko katerih se je razpletala ganljiva zgodba. Stoli so odličen opomin, da ne glede na to, da si za navdih prizora izberemo predmete, je improvizacija vedno stvar odnosa med ljudmi.
- Eva Jus
Theater im Bahnhof: Series Junkies
I fell in love with this show upon it's beginning, when Jacob and Beatrix came on stage. For me the first impression is very important, because you get to know the people who are going to engage you for the next two hours. And Jacob and Beatrix came to the stage relaxed, but focused. Ready, but not to hyped. Peaceful, but not boring. Overall they were very nice to look at and they treated us with love and respect.
After explaining a little about the show, we are about to experience together, they started by letting us pick the pictures that will inspire the show.
First we, the audience, picked a photo of SPAR, the market. My first thought was: “How capitalistic of us” then I thought: "I am not sure capitalistic is the right word for what I meant” and then my thought process went from: "Don't we all have enough of markets trying to get our attention outside?” , ”Why stain the theatre with it?" to the eureka moment of: "Of course - the recognition.” We all love moments, when we recognise something. We used to get to know the world like that when we were children. We got awarded every time we recognised something then. And when this happens in theatre, we experience that same warm and fuzzy feeling all over again and we all love it. We don't love SPAR, we just recognised it. What a relief.
After we picked the pictures, the show began with Jacob and Beatrix watching each other and telling a story. This was also the second time I fell in love with the show.
I am a huge geek for storytelling. I am also a huge geek for TV series. So they combined my two favourite elements in one show. How can you not fall in love?
The show was structured in two parts. We saw the PILOT episode in the first part, and the LAST episode in the second part, after the break. The piece also included audience by giving some audience members balls (I will not mention all the jokes that came out while giving the balls) that they could throw on stage anytime they wanted to suggest something about the story.
At the beginning we established three characters:
a sadistic historian Margaretha who is working in a market,
a nitter young waiter Johann who is working in a caffe and
a confident refugee Shalab Dah who happens to be in a church at the beginning.
Then the magic began. Jacob and Beatrix conducted the story by telling us what is happening and not acting everything out. The style reminded me of the Improv game Didaskalije (He said, She Said) combined with scene painting and some wonderful character work. They told the story in a way that every audience member could visualise characters in their own way. How often does a theatre play let every audience member create their own world, while watching one story? It was very magical and even though it was a little to long in my opinion and it got a little too complicated in the second part, I enjoyed watching the show very much.
I don't think Austrian television will buy the PILOT we created, but Jacob and Beatrix established a safe and positive environment for every audience member and created a lovely piece we all enjoyed and that is worth even more.
I will end with thanking the Naked Stage crew for letting improvisers take as much space and as much time as they need to make their stories come to life. Patience and respect are qualities our society lacks on so many levels. And it brings me great joy to see this qualities on stage.
Have fun.
- Veronika Hana Grubič
After explaining a little about the show, we are about to experience together, they started by letting us pick the pictures that will inspire the show.
First we, the audience, picked a photo of SPAR, the market. My first thought was: “How capitalistic of us” then I thought: "I am not sure capitalistic is the right word for what I meant” and then my thought process went from: "Don't we all have enough of markets trying to get our attention outside?” , ”Why stain the theatre with it?" to the eureka moment of: "Of course - the recognition.” We all love moments, when we recognise something. We used to get to know the world like that when we were children. We got awarded every time we recognised something then. And when this happens in theatre, we experience that same warm and fuzzy feeling all over again and we all love it. We don't love SPAR, we just recognised it. What a relief.
After we picked the pictures, the show began with Jacob and Beatrix watching each other and telling a story. This was also the second time I fell in love with the show.
I am a huge geek for storytelling. I am also a huge geek for TV series. So they combined my two favourite elements in one show. How can you not fall in love?
The show was structured in two parts. We saw the PILOT episode in the first part, and the LAST episode in the second part, after the break. The piece also included audience by giving some audience members balls (I will not mention all the jokes that came out while giving the balls) that they could throw on stage anytime they wanted to suggest something about the story.
At the beginning we established three characters:
a sadistic historian Margaretha who is working in a market,
a nitter young waiter Johann who is working in a caffe and
a confident refugee Shalab Dah who happens to be in a church at the beginning.
Then the magic began. Jacob and Beatrix conducted the story by telling us what is happening and not acting everything out. The style reminded me of the Improv game Didaskalije (He said, She Said) combined with scene painting and some wonderful character work. They told the story in a way that every audience member could visualise characters in their own way. How often does a theatre play let every audience member create their own world, while watching one story? It was very magical and even though it was a little to long in my opinion and it got a little too complicated in the second part, I enjoyed watching the show very much.
I don't think Austrian television will buy the PILOT we created, but Jacob and Beatrix established a safe and positive environment for every audience member and created a lovely piece we all enjoyed and that is worth even more.
I will end with thanking the Naked Stage crew for letting improvisers take as much space and as much time as they need to make their stories come to life. Patience and respect are qualities our society lacks on so many levels. And it brings me great joy to see this qualities on stage.
Have fun.
- Veronika Hana Grubič
Improške: Navdih na prvi (s)pogled
Srž predstave ‘Navdih na prvi (s)pogled’ ženskega impro kolektiva Improške leži v vzajemnem pogledu, očesnem stik, ki ustvari povezavo med dvema nastopajočima. In predstava je potrdila prav to, da ne glede na mnoštvo stikov, ki jih imamo vsakodnevno z ljudmi okoli sebe, le tisti, kjer se človeka iskreno zazreta drug drugemu v oči, prinesejo kvaliteten odnos. Obenem pa ravno ta iskreni
pogled spogledujočima omogoči, da se povežeta na načine, ki so drugače nezamisljivi, saj, ko nekomu pogledaš v ogledalo duše, nujno odstreš tudi svojo.
Nastopajoče, lično razporejene po odru, na znak zamižijo in ob njegovi ponovitvi svoj pogled usmerijo v eno izmed ostalih. V kolikor se pogleda ujameta se to osnovi v prizor, medtem ko neujeti pogledi še malo odmevajo in se porazgubijo. In prizori, ki smo jih videli, ne le da so pokazali na izmojstrenost nastopajočih v improvizaciji, temveč so tudi prinesli vpogled v improvizacijo, ki je morda nismo čisto vajeni. Prizori so bili mirni, iskrivi, igrivi in predvsem čisto človeški. Male in velike zgodbe malih in velikih ljudi. Brez dnevno-političnih, aktualnih in zabavljaških vložkov, a vseeno veselo in radoživo. Prizori so bili stabilni v smislu, da so nastopajoče zvesto ostajale v izgrajenih likih in se jim povsem predale. Obenem pa so bili tematsko tako vsakodnevno človeški, da je v njih vsak lahko našel drobce svojih izkušenj, doživetji in spoznanj. Prav tako pa se je z ustvarjenimi liki vsak lahko enostavno poistovetil ter v njih našel delček sebe.
Improške so pokazale predvsem, da niso kolektiv le po imenu, temveč tudi v dejanju. Nastopajoče so bile druga do druge obzirne, vzajemno so se podpirale, si v prizorih pomagale, se vzpodbujale ter si predvsem dale svobodo, da razvijejo svoje ujete poglede v izšiljene prizore. In prav take improvizacije bi na naših odrih osebno rad videl še več.
Naj še dodam, da so k odlični atmosferi prizorov pomembno prispevali tudi Hannu Risku in Evren Gülseven na glasbilih ter Borut Cajnko na lučeh. Odlično so glasbeno in svetlobno sodelovali v dogajanju na odru, mu kdaj sledili, ga dopolnjevali, in kdaj vodili.
Za zaključek naj povem le, da je bilo veselje videti iskrive improvizirane prizore, petje, ples, norenje po odru in otroško razigranost najvišjega formata. Bravo!
- Blaž Šteblaj
pogled spogledujočima omogoči, da se povežeta na načine, ki so drugače nezamisljivi, saj, ko nekomu pogledaš v ogledalo duše, nujno odstreš tudi svojo.
Nastopajoče, lično razporejene po odru, na znak zamižijo in ob njegovi ponovitvi svoj pogled usmerijo v eno izmed ostalih. V kolikor se pogleda ujameta se to osnovi v prizor, medtem ko neujeti pogledi še malo odmevajo in se porazgubijo. In prizori, ki smo jih videli, ne le da so pokazali na izmojstrenost nastopajočih v improvizaciji, temveč so tudi prinesli vpogled v improvizacijo, ki je morda nismo čisto vajeni. Prizori so bili mirni, iskrivi, igrivi in predvsem čisto človeški. Male in velike zgodbe malih in velikih ljudi. Brez dnevno-političnih, aktualnih in zabavljaških vložkov, a vseeno veselo in radoživo. Prizori so bili stabilni v smislu, da so nastopajoče zvesto ostajale v izgrajenih likih in se jim povsem predale. Obenem pa so bili tematsko tako vsakodnevno človeški, da je v njih vsak lahko našel drobce svojih izkušenj, doživetji in spoznanj. Prav tako pa se je z ustvarjenimi liki vsak lahko enostavno poistovetil ter v njih našel delček sebe.
Improške so pokazale predvsem, da niso kolektiv le po imenu, temveč tudi v dejanju. Nastopajoče so bile druga do druge obzirne, vzajemno so se podpirale, si v prizorih pomagale, se vzpodbujale ter si predvsem dale svobodo, da razvijejo svoje ujete poglede v izšiljene prizore. In prav take improvizacije bi na naših odrih osebno rad videl še več.
Naj še dodam, da so k odlični atmosferi prizorov pomembno prispevali tudi Hannu Risku in Evren Gülseven na glasbilih ter Borut Cajnko na lučeh. Odlično so glasbeno in svetlobno sodelovali v dogajanju na odru, mu kdaj sledili, ga dopolnjevali, in kdaj vodili.
Za zaključek naj povem le, da je bilo veselje videti iskrive improvizirane prizore, petje, ples, norenje po odru in otroško razigranost najvišjega formata. Bravo!
- Blaž Šteblaj
Ljubezen na prvi (s)pogled
Na prvi (s)pogled so improvizatorke kolektiva Improške odkrivale marsikaj, ne le ljubezni. Z enostavnim konceptom postavitve po odru in usmerjanja pogleda v eno od svojih soigralk ali pa naravnost v publiko, so odkrivale impulze, ki jih prinese neposredni očesni stik. In impulzov je bilo mnogo in bili so pestri.
Tako so nas popeljale skozi množico zgodb, začele so pri odnosu med oboževalko in medijsko izpostavljeno osebo, nato pa nadaljevale med drugim s šefico, pred katero vsi trepetajo, z rusko kirurginjo, z družno pesmijo in z akrobacijami, s srhljivo zgodbo o ugrabitvi, z zgodbo o ženski, ki je bila močno navezana na svojega pokojnega psa in zaključile s skupinsko gibalno improvizacijo.
V vsakem koščku tega mozaika pa so imenitno izpostavile tisto komponento improvizacije, ki je (vsaj po mnenju pisca tega prispevka) ključna – odnos. Šlo je bodisi za odnos med dvema improvizatorkama, bodisi za odnos, ki so ga vzpostavile z občinstvom, ali pa za nenehen odnos in igro med igralkami in glasbenikoma. Odkrivale so jih na vseh ravneh in v vseh oblikah, upale so si oddaljiti se od tistih nežnih in lepih in so zaplavale v ohlajene, v neprijetne in celo v patološke odnose.
Lastnost, ki ji gre nemara nameniti še največ pohval, pa je neprestano medsebojno podpiranje ter skupaj s tem ustvarjanje okolja, kjer je prav vsaka od njih lahko zasijala. Improvizatorke znajo poskrbeti druga za drugo in skupaj ustvariti imenitne zgodbe. Samo veselimo se lahko njihovih nadaljnjih (s)pogledovanj.
- Jošt Jesenovec
Tako so nas popeljale skozi množico zgodb, začele so pri odnosu med oboževalko in medijsko izpostavljeno osebo, nato pa nadaljevale med drugim s šefico, pred katero vsi trepetajo, z rusko kirurginjo, z družno pesmijo in z akrobacijami, s srhljivo zgodbo o ugrabitvi, z zgodbo o ženski, ki je bila močno navezana na svojega pokojnega psa in zaključile s skupinsko gibalno improvizacijo.
V vsakem koščku tega mozaika pa so imenitno izpostavile tisto komponento improvizacije, ki je (vsaj po mnenju pisca tega prispevka) ključna – odnos. Šlo je bodisi za odnos med dvema improvizatorkama, bodisi za odnos, ki so ga vzpostavile z občinstvom, ali pa za nenehen odnos in igro med igralkami in glasbenikoma. Odkrivale so jih na vseh ravneh in v vseh oblikah, upale so si oddaljiti se od tistih nežnih in lepih in so zaplavale v ohlajene, v neprijetne in celo v patološke odnose.
Lastnost, ki ji gre nemara nameniti še največ pohval, pa je neprestano medsebojno podpiranje ter skupaj s tem ustvarjanje okolja, kjer je prav vsaka od njih lahko zasijala. Improvizatorke znajo poskrbeti druga za drugo in skupaj ustvariti imenitne zgodbe. Samo veselimo se lahko njihovih nadaljnjih (s)pogledovanj.
- Jošt Jesenovec
Once Upon a Time
Once upon a time there was a sweet girl called Zeynep. She lived in Istanbul and had a loving husband Koray. They were very happy and did a lot of improvisational theatre together. Until one day they met Evren, the musician, with whom they instantly connected. But life separated them for a while. However, after meeting each other a couple years later, they instantly picked up where they left off. They became a happy impro family called Istanbulimpro. Until one day they were invited to the Improv festival far away called Naked stage.
Interested what adventure will bring them, they arrived to Slovenia and started doing their magic. At first, all of them were part of the initial show Tandem, where Evren's music fell in love with the music of Hannu Risku and for the time of the festival, they became inseparable. And the next day they were all part of the »Chairs«, where they joined their forces with Iglu and climbed the big mountain of great scenes until they came to the peak with the very last one, where Koray and Juš built a wonderful relationship between the characters.
Zey was a part of the dance of the witches with the troupe Improške and after the wonderful dance, the big moment finnaly came. It was their own adventure, on which they took us, together with the help of Alenka, Juš, Peter and Hannu. The show began with the audience's description of main characters, that they had to based on the objects given to some of them by Koray. The first scene started and the big forest slowly started to grow in front of us. There was a house, next to it there were awesome outside book shelves, trees, bonfire and of course there was the statue of the tree, that was made out of wood. There were some animals as well, which we instantly loved – the moose, the bear, the owl and later on even the dolphin, who had a wonderful, intense and passionate last dance with the fisherman. The depiction of the nature throughout the performance was for me one of the strongest points of the show as it really brought the magic of fairy tales to us – the stream that connected the woods with the sea, snowflakes, trees, falling leaves, animals, etc. - they all helped to create the scenery I would gladly visit for real.
There were some intense musical moments as well, especially the tragical sounds of sad Albert who could not find his inspiration until he had found love. But for me, the greatest superpower of the show was definitely playfulness of the players and musicians, which showed us that having fun on stage definitely can have a great effect on the audience as well. And after that they all lived happily ever after and never forgot the great adventure of the Naked stage.
- Urša Strehar Benčina
Interested what adventure will bring them, they arrived to Slovenia and started doing their magic. At first, all of them were part of the initial show Tandem, where Evren's music fell in love with the music of Hannu Risku and for the time of the festival, they became inseparable. And the next day they were all part of the »Chairs«, where they joined their forces with Iglu and climbed the big mountain of great scenes until they came to the peak with the very last one, where Koray and Juš built a wonderful relationship between the characters.
Zey was a part of the dance of the witches with the troupe Improške and after the wonderful dance, the big moment finnaly came. It was their own adventure, on which they took us, together with the help of Alenka, Juš, Peter and Hannu. The show began with the audience's description of main characters, that they had to based on the objects given to some of them by Koray. The first scene started and the big forest slowly started to grow in front of us. There was a house, next to it there were awesome outside book shelves, trees, bonfire and of course there was the statue of the tree, that was made out of wood. There were some animals as well, which we instantly loved – the moose, the bear, the owl and later on even the dolphin, who had a wonderful, intense and passionate last dance with the fisherman. The depiction of the nature throughout the performance was for me one of the strongest points of the show as it really brought the magic of fairy tales to us – the stream that connected the woods with the sea, snowflakes, trees, falling leaves, animals, etc. - they all helped to create the scenery I would gladly visit for real.
There were some intense musical moments as well, especially the tragical sounds of sad Albert who could not find his inspiration until he had found love. But for me, the greatest superpower of the show was definitely playfulness of the players and musicians, which showed us that having fun on stage definitely can have a great effect on the audience as well. And after that they all lived happily ever after and never forgot the great adventure of the Naked stage.
- Urša Strehar Benčina
Game of Death
Jacob Banigan is brilliant. His skills as an actor, portraying different characters with precision and clarity, his wits and memory, remembering all of the audiences inputs and weaving them into the story, his enchanting stories, that keep us all on our toes ... I could go on and on – Jacob is a virtuoso on the stage. Accompanied by the insightful and always tuned-in Hannu on the music, they created a perfectly magical evening for the audience in Prešernovo gledališče Kranj.
First, a note on the format. To me it seems like Jacob might get bored »just« playing improv, so he makes it insanely challenging. He starts with three fortune-telling cards, of which two are seen by him and one is left there for a surprising tilt in the story, triggered by a bell rang by an audience member. The main element of surprise, though, is the egg-timer of death. When it goes off, someone needs to die.
We witnessed a touching family story, placed in Iceland. A fisherman lost a son due to heart failure and resented the doctor who failed to save him for years to come. Seeking revenge, he puts the famous Icelandic curse on the doctor Gotmundsson – he shall never know how closely related he is to his loved one, the beautiful chemist/farmer Björka from the eastern village, and thus never experience peace, love and happiness. The weight of the curse is too much for the doctor Renjivin Gotmundsson to bear – he makes a deal with the devil and promises his first-born son to the fisherman.
12 years later, the fisherman has raised a good and happy son, who helps him fish and likes octopus ice cream. Björka is miserable, she has been depressed for the past 11 years, since she had to give up her son. Suddenly, they catch a glimpse of their boy. Seeing how well he is, the mother decides to let him live with the fisherman ... in this touching scene, when a mother first talks to her child with teary eyes, the egg timer of death goes off. »Oh shit,« comments Jacob to the audience. Any death would be tragic! Who will he kill? Somebody needs to die. The mother, crushed by the knowledge her son is lost forever, walks into the sea. Seeing that, the fisherman jumps in and saves her, but the sea takes its toll and swallows him. »He was a good man,« Björka and Renjivin tell the boy. »We will take care of you now.«
Jacob tackles a hard topic in the Game of Death. Sometimes, he must kill a favourite character, sometimes it's a minor one – you can never know when the egg timer of death goes off. Game of Death is a lot like life. It's impossible to know how long we have left or who will have to die first. It is a reminder for us that the »Yes, and,« goes beyond happy moments – in the end, we need to also »yes, and« loss, grief, and death. Death is a part of life. Often unexpected, mostly unwanted, but nonetheless inevitable. And there is nothing we can do with the inevitable, but accept it and move on. There is nothing else we can do but to »yes, and« death.
- Katarina Veselko
First, a note on the format. To me it seems like Jacob might get bored »just« playing improv, so he makes it insanely challenging. He starts with three fortune-telling cards, of which two are seen by him and one is left there for a surprising tilt in the story, triggered by a bell rang by an audience member. The main element of surprise, though, is the egg-timer of death. When it goes off, someone needs to die.
We witnessed a touching family story, placed in Iceland. A fisherman lost a son due to heart failure and resented the doctor who failed to save him for years to come. Seeking revenge, he puts the famous Icelandic curse on the doctor Gotmundsson – he shall never know how closely related he is to his loved one, the beautiful chemist/farmer Björka from the eastern village, and thus never experience peace, love and happiness. The weight of the curse is too much for the doctor Renjivin Gotmundsson to bear – he makes a deal with the devil and promises his first-born son to the fisherman.
12 years later, the fisherman has raised a good and happy son, who helps him fish and likes octopus ice cream. Björka is miserable, she has been depressed for the past 11 years, since she had to give up her son. Suddenly, they catch a glimpse of their boy. Seeing how well he is, the mother decides to let him live with the fisherman ... in this touching scene, when a mother first talks to her child with teary eyes, the egg timer of death goes off. »Oh shit,« comments Jacob to the audience. Any death would be tragic! Who will he kill? Somebody needs to die. The mother, crushed by the knowledge her son is lost forever, walks into the sea. Seeing that, the fisherman jumps in and saves her, but the sea takes its toll and swallows him. »He was a good man,« Björka and Renjivin tell the boy. »We will take care of you now.«
Jacob tackles a hard topic in the Game of Death. Sometimes, he must kill a favourite character, sometimes it's a minor one – you can never know when the egg timer of death goes off. Game of Death is a lot like life. It's impossible to know how long we have left or who will have to die first. It is a reminder for us that the »Yes, and,« goes beyond happy moments – in the end, we need to also »yes, and« loss, grief, and death. Death is a part of life. Often unexpected, mostly unwanted, but nonetheless inevitable. And there is nothing we can do with the inevitable, but accept it and move on. There is nothing else we can do but to »yes, and« death.
- Katarina Veselko
Movie Night
Movie Night, an opportunity for KUD KIKS performers to shine – wittily scripting the plot, creating movie-like scenes, genre-typical storylines and easily recognized trope characters.
We saw two stories. First, a romantic comedy with an indecisive groom, a creative best man, a drunk brother, a greedy mother, a (?) bride and a ghost-lady in love, oh and of course the strippers with great dance moves and no lines. The wedding ceremony is interrupted by the ghost of an old lover of the groom, who wants him to die and join with him in death. He is unwilling to die, so he dives into a theoretical discussion about bringing ghosts back to life with his best man, until they finally find a solution and make a clay soul pot, which brings the ghost back to life. Part-time. The groom marries the ghost. What happens to the bride? Nobody knows, nobody cares.
Second (and last), a western with three prostitutes, a handsome lone rider looking for fun and trouble, a cowboy with a wooden leg and a sexy voice, and a bartender. Scene 1: a prostitute shaving her legs and talking to another prostitute about shaving her legs. Scene 2: a lone rider looking for fun and trouble. Scene 3: the lone rider finding fun in the shape of an unshaved concubine and trouble in the shape of a cowboy with a wooden leg. Scene 4: the lone rider winning the duel and getting not just one, but both of the unshaved prostitutes.
You might have already sensed the underlining direction of my writing. Out of nine female characters we saw this evening, five of them were in the body-selling business. And, I have to admit, that woke up the feminist in me.
The feminist in me likes to entertain herself by subjecting the movies I see to the Bechdel test. To pass the test, the movie (1) has to have at least two women in it (2) who talk to each other; (3) about something besides a man. Let’s see how the Movie Night did!
Romantic comedy – The Ghost lady
1) YES! There are three female characters – the bride, her mother (played by a male improviser), the ghost-lady. None of them have names, but they are there. Oh, and let's not forget the two strippers, who dance to entertain the audience while we wait for the groom with his best man and his brother to decide what to do with the ghost-woman he loves. And the gypsy-lady who brings a solution to the problem that had opened a long creative conversation between the men.
2) YES and NO. In the first scene, the bride exchanges a few words with the mother in parallel with another scene (thus we cannot hear most of the dialogue). The mother is played by a man, so we don't actually see two women talking on stage.
3) NO. The strippers don't talk, the ghost-woman only talks to her lover and the bride disappears after the failed ceremony. The mother tells her daughter how she should get all of her husband’s money, and the daughter obediently nods her head. So – no conversations about something other than men.
Western – The Shaved Concubine
The first scene does it all!
1) YES! Three prostitutes.
2) YES! They talk to each other.
3) YES! About shaving.
Unfortunately, the rest of the story mostly ignores the beautiful contrast built between the two women on stage. The two prostitutes take a stand on a (seemingly banal) topic – shaving; and even in that conversation you get the first glimpse of the potential depth of both of the characters, one progressive and one old-fashioned. It’s a lovely scene – unfortunately, we don’t see them talk after that.
Even though it’s true that most movies fail the Bechdel test and use stereotypical storylines and gender tropes, I don’t think an improvised movie night needs to necessarily follow that pattern. The impro stage gives us the opportunity to nail the Bechdel test. It gives us the chance to build strong female characters, who have a life and purpose other than serve men as objects of their desires. Let us all try and take that chance!
- Katarina Veselko
We saw two stories. First, a romantic comedy with an indecisive groom, a creative best man, a drunk brother, a greedy mother, a (?) bride and a ghost-lady in love, oh and of course the strippers with great dance moves and no lines. The wedding ceremony is interrupted by the ghost of an old lover of the groom, who wants him to die and join with him in death. He is unwilling to die, so he dives into a theoretical discussion about bringing ghosts back to life with his best man, until they finally find a solution and make a clay soul pot, which brings the ghost back to life. Part-time. The groom marries the ghost. What happens to the bride? Nobody knows, nobody cares.
Second (and last), a western with three prostitutes, a handsome lone rider looking for fun and trouble, a cowboy with a wooden leg and a sexy voice, and a bartender. Scene 1: a prostitute shaving her legs and talking to another prostitute about shaving her legs. Scene 2: a lone rider looking for fun and trouble. Scene 3: the lone rider finding fun in the shape of an unshaved concubine and trouble in the shape of a cowboy with a wooden leg. Scene 4: the lone rider winning the duel and getting not just one, but both of the unshaved prostitutes.
You might have already sensed the underlining direction of my writing. Out of nine female characters we saw this evening, five of them were in the body-selling business. And, I have to admit, that woke up the feminist in me.
The feminist in me likes to entertain herself by subjecting the movies I see to the Bechdel test. To pass the test, the movie (1) has to have at least two women in it (2) who talk to each other; (3) about something besides a man. Let’s see how the Movie Night did!
Romantic comedy – The Ghost lady
1) YES! There are three female characters – the bride, her mother (played by a male improviser), the ghost-lady. None of them have names, but they are there. Oh, and let's not forget the two strippers, who dance to entertain the audience while we wait for the groom with his best man and his brother to decide what to do with the ghost-woman he loves. And the gypsy-lady who brings a solution to the problem that had opened a long creative conversation between the men.
2) YES and NO. In the first scene, the bride exchanges a few words with the mother in parallel with another scene (thus we cannot hear most of the dialogue). The mother is played by a man, so we don't actually see two women talking on stage.
3) NO. The strippers don't talk, the ghost-woman only talks to her lover and the bride disappears after the failed ceremony. The mother tells her daughter how she should get all of her husband’s money, and the daughter obediently nods her head. So – no conversations about something other than men.
Western – The Shaved Concubine
The first scene does it all!
1) YES! Three prostitutes.
2) YES! They talk to each other.
3) YES! About shaving.
Unfortunately, the rest of the story mostly ignores the beautiful contrast built between the two women on stage. The two prostitutes take a stand on a (seemingly banal) topic – shaving; and even in that conversation you get the first glimpse of the potential depth of both of the characters, one progressive and one old-fashioned. It’s a lovely scene – unfortunately, we don’t see them talk after that.
Even though it’s true that most movies fail the Bechdel test and use stereotypical storylines and gender tropes, I don’t think an improvised movie night needs to necessarily follow that pattern. The impro stage gives us the opportunity to nail the Bechdel test. It gives us the chance to build strong female characters, who have a life and purpose other than serve men as objects of their desires. Let us all try and take that chance!
- Katarina Veselko
Recenzija - Serijski džankiji
13. edicija Golega odra nam je v četrtek postregla s prav posebnim nastopom severnih sosedov. Iz avstrijskega največjega neodvisnega gledališča Theater im Bahnhof sta prišla Beatrix Brunschko in Jacob Banigan s predstavo Serijski džankiji. Geneza predstave naj bi se zgodila zavoljo večkratnega neuspešnega prijavljanja avtorjev na mesto scenaristov TV nanizank. Serija se je v Stari mestni elektrarni zato napisala in odvila s pomočjo gledalcev.
Na kratko opišimo okovje predstave. Sestavljena je iz treh sklopov in temu primerno tudi dolga. V prvem sklopu se s pomočjo fotografij in seznama človeških karakteristik izbere tri glavne protagnoiste, živeče v tipični avstrijski gorski vasici. Iz publike izvlečeta lokalni mit in začne se prvi del. V drugem se izbere nove prostore, v igro pridejo tudi “idejne žogice” s katerimi v predstavo lahko z metom na oder posežejo tudi gledalci. Po krajšem premoru in naslovitvi serije, se je zgodil preskok na zadnji del TV serije, pred katero se s pomočjo gledalcev ugotovi, kaj se je zgodilo v času, ko serije nismo uspel videti.
Nato se začne pripoved, ki je tudi glavni del predstave. Medtem, ko nekateri improvizatorji slovijo po stanju na enem mestu in neprestanem zbijanju šal, je v predstavi Serijski džankiji to pravzaprav rdeča nit, izvzemši šaljenje. Skupaj z redkimi Jacobovimi opisi premikov kamere, smo bili v resnici priča dolgi, dve in polurni pripovedi. V tem času sta igralca sicer pokazala izjemno znanje angleškega jezika. Prav tako jima v resnici ne moremo očitati statičnosti, saj kljub komaj opaznim ali neprisotnim gibom, obvladujeta površino odra z neprestanim korakanjem v vse smeri. Po pričakovanjih smo od improvizatorjev pričakovali, da se bo na začetku statična in sedeča pripoved razmahnila v vedno bolj telesno, čemur tako ni bilo. Kompleksna zgodba, ki je iz tega nastala, je bila na trenutke težko sledljiva, tudi zato ker karakter ni bil vezan na posamezno osebo, ampak sta se improvizatorja pri tem izmenjevala. S tem sta se spretno izognila težavam, ki bi jih lahko imela pri prikazovanju večjega števila oseb, ki jih zato ni bilo moč zaznati.
Množica besed in raznoraznih opisov je zahtevala od gledalca več domišljije, kot pri običajni improvizacijski predstavi. Tokrat je moral gledalec tudi sam zapolnjevati praznino med slišanim in ne-videnim. Priča smo bili toku domišljije na oder, kot tudi z odra nazaj v publiko in ponovno na oder.
Žal se je predstava zaključila brez velikega odziva publike ob uporabi “idejnih žogic”, vendar je kljub temu, na trenutke predolga pripoved, potekala tekoče. Sicer večinoma primerna atmosferična glasbena podlaga Gorana Završnika pa je na žalost večkrat močno preglasila igralca, tudi na povsem neprimernih trenutkih. Spomnimo na trenutek izpovedi, ko je slušno nasilno poskušal vsiliti tehnoidno nabijanje, ki se ni ujemalo ne s prejšnjim, ne s kasnejšim potekom zgodbe, še najmanj pa z izpovedjo samo.
Vsekakor pa je šlo za drugačen način predstave, kot smo jih mogoče vajeni, ki bi jo morda zaradi količine govora bolj razumeli kot pripovedniški žanr, ki pa sta ga igralca zelo dobro izpilila.
- Pia Nikolič
Na kratko opišimo okovje predstave. Sestavljena je iz treh sklopov in temu primerno tudi dolga. V prvem sklopu se s pomočjo fotografij in seznama človeških karakteristik izbere tri glavne protagnoiste, živeče v tipični avstrijski gorski vasici. Iz publike izvlečeta lokalni mit in začne se prvi del. V drugem se izbere nove prostore, v igro pridejo tudi “idejne žogice” s katerimi v predstavo lahko z metom na oder posežejo tudi gledalci. Po krajšem premoru in naslovitvi serije, se je zgodil preskok na zadnji del TV serije, pred katero se s pomočjo gledalcev ugotovi, kaj se je zgodilo v času, ko serije nismo uspel videti.
Nato se začne pripoved, ki je tudi glavni del predstave. Medtem, ko nekateri improvizatorji slovijo po stanju na enem mestu in neprestanem zbijanju šal, je v predstavi Serijski džankiji to pravzaprav rdeča nit, izvzemši šaljenje. Skupaj z redkimi Jacobovimi opisi premikov kamere, smo bili v resnici priča dolgi, dve in polurni pripovedi. V tem času sta igralca sicer pokazala izjemno znanje angleškega jezika. Prav tako jima v resnici ne moremo očitati statičnosti, saj kljub komaj opaznim ali neprisotnim gibom, obvladujeta površino odra z neprestanim korakanjem v vse smeri. Po pričakovanjih smo od improvizatorjev pričakovali, da se bo na začetku statična in sedeča pripoved razmahnila v vedno bolj telesno, čemur tako ni bilo. Kompleksna zgodba, ki je iz tega nastala, je bila na trenutke težko sledljiva, tudi zato ker karakter ni bil vezan na posamezno osebo, ampak sta se improvizatorja pri tem izmenjevala. S tem sta se spretno izognila težavam, ki bi jih lahko imela pri prikazovanju večjega števila oseb, ki jih zato ni bilo moč zaznati.
Množica besed in raznoraznih opisov je zahtevala od gledalca več domišljije, kot pri običajni improvizacijski predstavi. Tokrat je moral gledalec tudi sam zapolnjevati praznino med slišanim in ne-videnim. Priča smo bili toku domišljije na oder, kot tudi z odra nazaj v publiko in ponovno na oder.
Žal se je predstava zaključila brez velikega odziva publike ob uporabi “idejnih žogic”, vendar je kljub temu, na trenutke predolga pripoved, potekala tekoče. Sicer večinoma primerna atmosferična glasbena podlaga Gorana Završnika pa je na žalost večkrat močno preglasila igralca, tudi na povsem neprimernih trenutkih. Spomnimo na trenutek izpovedi, ko je slušno nasilno poskušal vsiliti tehnoidno nabijanje, ki se ni ujemalo ne s prejšnjim, ne s kasnejšim potekom zgodbe, še najmanj pa z izpovedjo samo.
Vsekakor pa je šlo za drugačen način predstave, kot smo jih mogoče vajeni, ki bi jo morda zaradi količine govora bolj razumeli kot pripovedniški žanr, ki pa sta ga igralca zelo dobro izpilila.
- Pia Nikolič
Feel Good Music Workshop - If you're afraid, do it with Hannu
I am, or rather, was, very much afraid of singing in public. I have been told throughout my life by my two (more musically talented) brothers that I sing off tune, that I ruin any song I try to sing and I should just shut up. Slowly I bought into those messages – as we very often do. Public singing for me was always a traumatic experience, ending with me trying to hold in tears until I could run away and cry it out. I don't cry easily, I don't have a problem with being on stage and speaking in public, but singing makes me want to come out of my skin. As I grow and develop as an improviser, this is starting to seriously hinder my progress and I really want to get over it.
I applied for Hannu's workshop with sweaty hands and a lump in my throat. I was expecting two days of torture, stress and anxiety, all the horrible things I thought are just part of the process for me and I need to survive and get it over with. Feel Good Music Workshop? As if!
But it turned out it really is a »feel good« workshop. Hannu's gentle approach makes it easy to try and not worry about the end result. He leads the group slowly and with intuitive feeling of what is too much and what is just challenging enough for the participants to feel excited, but not anxious. We didn't even notice how we got from bim-bam-bom to full improvised songs. Each activity is designed in a way that is supportive of the improviser(s) in the spotlight. You are never completely on your own, there are always others who have your back if you feel uncertain – if not your co-players, then there is always the music to fall back on.
By the end of the workshop, everyone was spontaneously singing, humming, or beat-boxing. If somebody started a rhythm, soon another few people joined in creating a harmony of sounds. And as for me, the never-ever-singing-crybaby ... I gained not only the first insights into creating improvised music, but also a new appreciation for music in general as a way of communicating feelings, attitudes and atmosphere. And finally, the proof of success – in the evening show, I started an improvised song that everybody joined and it developed into a beautiful sound-scenery of voices. It was not yet a big solo-song with witty lyrics, catchy melody and perfect rhymes – but it was my first steps into the magical world of improvised music.
In short – if singing scares you, Hannu will take you by the hand and gently guide you to where you want to go. No pressure, no stress, at your own pace and according to your comfort level. I strongly recommend this workshop to anyone who wants to enjoy co-creating music and dive into rhythm, melody and song with pleasant feel-good ease.
- Katarina Veselko
I applied for Hannu's workshop with sweaty hands and a lump in my throat. I was expecting two days of torture, stress and anxiety, all the horrible things I thought are just part of the process for me and I need to survive and get it over with. Feel Good Music Workshop? As if!
But it turned out it really is a »feel good« workshop. Hannu's gentle approach makes it easy to try and not worry about the end result. He leads the group slowly and with intuitive feeling of what is too much and what is just challenging enough for the participants to feel excited, but not anxious. We didn't even notice how we got from bim-bam-bom to full improvised songs. Each activity is designed in a way that is supportive of the improviser(s) in the spotlight. You are never completely on your own, there are always others who have your back if you feel uncertain – if not your co-players, then there is always the music to fall back on.
By the end of the workshop, everyone was spontaneously singing, humming, or beat-boxing. If somebody started a rhythm, soon another few people joined in creating a harmony of sounds. And as for me, the never-ever-singing-crybaby ... I gained not only the first insights into creating improvised music, but also a new appreciation for music in general as a way of communicating feelings, attitudes and atmosphere. And finally, the proof of success – in the evening show, I started an improvised song that everybody joined and it developed into a beautiful sound-scenery of voices. It was not yet a big solo-song with witty lyrics, catchy melody and perfect rhymes – but it was my first steps into the magical world of improvised music.
In short – if singing scares you, Hannu will take you by the hand and gently guide you to where you want to go. No pressure, no stress, at your own pace and according to your comfort level. I strongly recommend this workshop to anyone who wants to enjoy co-creating music and dive into rhythm, melody and song with pleasant feel-good ease.
- Katarina Veselko
Skupnost
V vsaki skupnosti, tudi v tistih, ki so v svoji osnovni ideji še tako složne, se bodo slej ko prej pojavile razlike. Različna mnenja, različni pogledi in različna stališča bodo včasih njene člane med seboj delili, jih včasih razdelili na dva bregova. Včasih se bodo ta nasprotja sprožala večje negativne konflikte, morda za skupnost celo usodne, včasih pa se bodo obrnila v prid in bodo delovala kot gorivo delovanja skupnosti.
Kaj pa, če različnim mnenjem o temah, ki zadevajo vse nas, pridamo še nekaj osnovnih impro načel? Sprejemaj idejo drugega, sledi sledilcu, sodeluj. Potem pa morajo improvizatorji razlike sprejeti in z njimi delati ter jih vključiti v svoje skupinsko ustvarjanje. Četudi se dva niti malo ne strinjata o tem, ali bi morala biti prostitucija legalizirana, ali bi morali vsi postati vegani, ali je seks nekaj naravnega ali stvar kulture, in o tem, ali improvizacijsko gledališče lahko sploh kdaj doseže kvalitetni nivo klasičnega, ima impro tako moč, da ju poveže in ju pripravi k sodelovanju.
Improvizatorji so na zaključni predstavi letošnjega Golega odra jasno in eksplicitno izražali svoja osebna strinjanja in nestrinjanja s podanimi trditvami, med njimi pa se po principu »sledi sledilcu« poigravali s temami in gibalnimi ter verbalnimi asociacijami. Klasičnih prizorov, kot smo jih vajeni, ni bilo, vsebine pa je bilo vendarle ogromno.
Če sem že zgoraj opel največjo kvaliteto celotne predstave, naj dodam še, da sem zapazil, da se vsi v vseh skupinskih improvizacijah niso počutili najbolj udobno, a so vseeno vztrajali in jih speljali do kraja. Skupnost je konec koncev več kot le vsota posameznikov, ki jo sestavljajo.
- Jošt Jesenovec
Kaj pa, če različnim mnenjem o temah, ki zadevajo vse nas, pridamo še nekaj osnovnih impro načel? Sprejemaj idejo drugega, sledi sledilcu, sodeluj. Potem pa morajo improvizatorji razlike sprejeti in z njimi delati ter jih vključiti v svoje skupinsko ustvarjanje. Četudi se dva niti malo ne strinjata o tem, ali bi morala biti prostitucija legalizirana, ali bi morali vsi postati vegani, ali je seks nekaj naravnega ali stvar kulture, in o tem, ali improvizacijsko gledališče lahko sploh kdaj doseže kvalitetni nivo klasičnega, ima impro tako moč, da ju poveže in ju pripravi k sodelovanju.
Improvizatorji so na zaključni predstavi letošnjega Golega odra jasno in eksplicitno izražali svoja osebna strinjanja in nestrinjanja s podanimi trditvami, med njimi pa se po principu »sledi sledilcu« poigravali s temami in gibalnimi ter verbalnimi asociacijami. Klasičnih prizorov, kot smo jih vajeni, ni bilo, vsebine pa je bilo vendarle ogromno.
Če sem že zgoraj opel največjo kvaliteto celotne predstave, naj dodam še, da sem zapazil, da se vsi v vseh skupinskih improvizacijah niso počutili najbolj udobno, a so vseeno vztrajali in jih speljali do kraja. Skupnost je konec koncev več kot le vsota posameznikov, ki jo sestavljajo.
- Jošt Jesenovec
Naked Stage 2016 - A family affair
The cold is creeping in and I wake up after a generous 7 hours of sleep. Monday starts as any other: computer work, teaching, rehearsals, some sort of a cultural event in the evening. It is followed by Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. All days are filled with shows, rehearsals, teachings, running from one end of the town to the other. And I love it, I breathe this life of mine that I didn’t even know for a long time was mine to breathe.
But today, I’d much rather be in Stara mestna elektrarna, where for the last 5 days my family stayed. They came from all over the world to meet for the Festival. Stara elektrarna was our home, where we could play, jam, dance, kiss, hug, perform and eat. Occasionally someone took a power nap on one of the couches in backstage. Impro bless his tired soul.
Grandpa Jacob was there, with his wisdom and knowledge that matches no other, giving me advice on where to put my tattoo. There was big papa bear Hannu, making us feel warm inside and listening to the sounds we made. Uncle Evren was lending me his tobacco and was pouring me that sweet, red, red wine, soundscaping all the time. My big brother Juš was on top of things, as always, never missing a beat (off and on stage). Supermama Maja took us under her wing and let us express ourselves in so many ways, we are going to be thankful to her for years to come. The craziest couple in the bunch were aunt Zey and uncle Koray, with their bigger than life generosity. Sister Alenka, brothers Vid and Peter dropped by from time to time, whenever they could get away from work, amazing us with their skills and making us laugh. All my sisters from other misters: Eva, Katarina, Mistral, Olivija, Teja and Urša, who brought so much joy and support, that all our creative energies started flowing like mad. Pervy uncle Gregor was questioning everything, keeping our intellect entertained and fit. Cousins from the north, Rok, Sašo, Rahela, Dino and Nejc were caught up in work too, so we went for a day trip to say hello and it was awesome. Uncle Goran was at his usual best, making us look at our best while playing his synth. Brother Jan got us questioning, if there really is true love and brother Tomaž would answer: “Absolutely YES!”. Even Trixi came for a day, even though she had to take care of the Lili-es. Cousins Samo and Andreja gave us some insight from their field of work, adding spices to a well-seasoned family dinner. And brothers Jošt and Rok always made sure, we were fed and greeted us with a smile on their face.
We all explored, we all crossed over into that big unknown, meeting our fears under the lights of Borut. We agreed and disagreed, we were inspired by telling stories with the audience, we were moving chairs, but in reality, we moved people. We were searching for eye contacts, surprising ourselves and others with the vulnerability an eye contact brings. We saw a mastermind outplay death and dipped our toes in genre work. So much richness, so much fun!
Drinking my tea, to keep my fingers warm while writing this, I am marvelling at this amazing moment in time, where we could discover new things, where we got naked on stage every single time we stepped on it and how nakedness never felt so warm and comfortable. The safety and the freedom we generated, sparkled magical moments not only on stage, but off it as well. We even made the audience part of the family. Because this family is impro theatre bro/sis, we leave no wo/man behind! We got your back!
Naked stage 2016, thank you for the family ties we were able to make or refresh. As we are all born naked, honesty and vulnerability is universal to all. Thank you Maja for reminding us they are a source of strength and growth and creativity.
- Sara, still naked, Šoukal
But today, I’d much rather be in Stara mestna elektrarna, where for the last 5 days my family stayed. They came from all over the world to meet for the Festival. Stara elektrarna was our home, where we could play, jam, dance, kiss, hug, perform and eat. Occasionally someone took a power nap on one of the couches in backstage. Impro bless his tired soul.
Grandpa Jacob was there, with his wisdom and knowledge that matches no other, giving me advice on where to put my tattoo. There was big papa bear Hannu, making us feel warm inside and listening to the sounds we made. Uncle Evren was lending me his tobacco and was pouring me that sweet, red, red wine, soundscaping all the time. My big brother Juš was on top of things, as always, never missing a beat (off and on stage). Supermama Maja took us under her wing and let us express ourselves in so many ways, we are going to be thankful to her for years to come. The craziest couple in the bunch were aunt Zey and uncle Koray, with their bigger than life generosity. Sister Alenka, brothers Vid and Peter dropped by from time to time, whenever they could get away from work, amazing us with their skills and making us laugh. All my sisters from other misters: Eva, Katarina, Mistral, Olivija, Teja and Urša, who brought so much joy and support, that all our creative energies started flowing like mad. Pervy uncle Gregor was questioning everything, keeping our intellect entertained and fit. Cousins from the north, Rok, Sašo, Rahela, Dino and Nejc were caught up in work too, so we went for a day trip to say hello and it was awesome. Uncle Goran was at his usual best, making us look at our best while playing his synth. Brother Jan got us questioning, if there really is true love and brother Tomaž would answer: “Absolutely YES!”. Even Trixi came for a day, even though she had to take care of the Lili-es. Cousins Samo and Andreja gave us some insight from their field of work, adding spices to a well-seasoned family dinner. And brothers Jošt and Rok always made sure, we were fed and greeted us with a smile on their face.
We all explored, we all crossed over into that big unknown, meeting our fears under the lights of Borut. We agreed and disagreed, we were inspired by telling stories with the audience, we were moving chairs, but in reality, we moved people. We were searching for eye contacts, surprising ourselves and others with the vulnerability an eye contact brings. We saw a mastermind outplay death and dipped our toes in genre work. So much richness, so much fun!
Drinking my tea, to keep my fingers warm while writing this, I am marvelling at this amazing moment in time, where we could discover new things, where we got naked on stage every single time we stepped on it and how nakedness never felt so warm and comfortable. The safety and the freedom we generated, sparkled magical moments not only on stage, but off it as well. We even made the audience part of the family. Because this family is impro theatre bro/sis, we leave no wo/man behind! We got your back!
Naked stage 2016, thank you for the family ties we were able to make or refresh. As we are all born naked, honesty and vulnerability is universal to all. Thank you Maja for reminding us they are a source of strength and growth and creativity.
- Sara, still naked, Šoukal
Ignoriraj me!
Vsak improvizator se bori z mnogimi izzivi, ki ga prav na odru napadajo iz vseh možnih strateških pozicij in izpostavijo njegove šibkosti, ko si tega najmanj želi. Težko je ubesediti prav točno določen problem, ki te pesti, saj lahko verjetno vsak, ki se ukvarja z gledališko improvizacijo, izpostavi kar zajetno peščico nesigurnosti, ki jih ima o sebi in svoji improvizaciji. Na začetku delavnice z Jacobom, smo malce izlivali svoja čustva. Vsak je povedal, kaj je tisto, ki ga ta trenutek improvizacijskega udejstvovanja omejuje in drži nazaj in hitro je postalo jasno, da si delimo enake težave, ali pa smo jih na neki točki že doživeli.
Jacob je brez dvoma izjemen improvizator, ki so mu načela improvizacije jasna in ponotranjena. Kar me je predvsem navdahnilo in dalo misliti, je bila ideja, da lahko dosežemo nov nivo profesionalnega odnosa do odra, prizora in gledalcev. Zanimivo se mi je zdelo tretiranje improvizacije, kjer navkljub dejstvu, da na odru nastajajo spontani, neplanirani in iskreni trenutki, delamo na ustvarjanju spoliranega končnega produkta. Ko na stvar pogledaš z vidika, da naj bodo beseda, gib ali čustven odziv narejeni namenoma, vidiš, koliko balasta improvizatorji potiskamo v svojo igro. Zakaj? Verjetno zaradi lastnega ega in nesigurnosti. Predvsem pa nam ne bo v pomoč prepričanje, da stvari lahko rešimo, če naredimo eno šalo več ali v prizor navržemo že peto svojo idejo, ker se prejšnje štiri niso dobro prijele, čeprav je vsak od soigralcev ponudil še nekaj svojih, da imamo le še kaotičen prizor idej.
Delali smo na ustvarjanju boljšega kočnega izdelka. Vsak sam pri sebi se je učil bolje usklajevati in poslušati svojega notranjega režiserja, scenarista in igralca. Hkrati pa je ta naša, na tri karakterje razdeljena osebnost, komunicirala z režiserjem, scenaristom in igralcem naših so-improvizatorjev. Najbolj neverjetno je, kako na takšnih delavnicah, kjer nekdo izpostavi najbolj preprosta načela, postane igranje prizorov neprimerljivo preprostejše.
Kar se mi je zdelo predvsem omembe vredno je, da se moramo včasih spomniti, da nismo smešni in da naši »gagi« niso vedno najpomembnejša stvar za prizor. Ko sprejmeš dejstvo, da ti, kot posameznik na odru, nisi smešen in da biti smešen ni tvoja naloga, odkriješ, kje se skriva resničen humor, ki si ga v improvizacijo tako veliko ljudi želi stlačiti na silo. Nekako se zaveš, da ti nisi smešen, ljudje pa so! Zakaj zato ne bi igral ljudi? Pravih, človeških ljudi, ki imajo svojo zgodbo, svoje osebnosti in svoje idiosinkrazije.
Torej, pospravimo svoj ego, nehajmo biti smešni, poslušajmo soigralca in se trudimo, da bo končni izdelek, bodisi replika, prizor ali pa predstava, bolj zloščena in dolžnost, ki jo imamo do naših gledalcev je izpolnjena! Preprosto? Seveda ne in verjetno lahko slišimo dobre stare mantre improvizacije še stokrat, pa bomo na odru še vseeno delali neumnosti. A korak za korakom se lahko posvetimo našemu karakterju in zgodbi, namesto sebi.
Na tej delavnici, nabiti z nauki, novimi pogledi, starimi pogledi, slišanimi na nov način in polni »ahaaa« momentov, smo se vsi zagotovo naučili veliko. Hvala Jacob!
- Katja Brezovar
Jacob je brez dvoma izjemen improvizator, ki so mu načela improvizacije jasna in ponotranjena. Kar me je predvsem navdahnilo in dalo misliti, je bila ideja, da lahko dosežemo nov nivo profesionalnega odnosa do odra, prizora in gledalcev. Zanimivo se mi je zdelo tretiranje improvizacije, kjer navkljub dejstvu, da na odru nastajajo spontani, neplanirani in iskreni trenutki, delamo na ustvarjanju spoliranega končnega produkta. Ko na stvar pogledaš z vidika, da naj bodo beseda, gib ali čustven odziv narejeni namenoma, vidiš, koliko balasta improvizatorji potiskamo v svojo igro. Zakaj? Verjetno zaradi lastnega ega in nesigurnosti. Predvsem pa nam ne bo v pomoč prepričanje, da stvari lahko rešimo, če naredimo eno šalo več ali v prizor navržemo že peto svojo idejo, ker se prejšnje štiri niso dobro prijele, čeprav je vsak od soigralcev ponudil še nekaj svojih, da imamo le še kaotičen prizor idej.
Delali smo na ustvarjanju boljšega kočnega izdelka. Vsak sam pri sebi se je učil bolje usklajevati in poslušati svojega notranjega režiserja, scenarista in igralca. Hkrati pa je ta naša, na tri karakterje razdeljena osebnost, komunicirala z režiserjem, scenaristom in igralcem naših so-improvizatorjev. Najbolj neverjetno je, kako na takšnih delavnicah, kjer nekdo izpostavi najbolj preprosta načela, postane igranje prizorov neprimerljivo preprostejše.
Kar se mi je zdelo predvsem omembe vredno je, da se moramo včasih spomniti, da nismo smešni in da naši »gagi« niso vedno najpomembnejša stvar za prizor. Ko sprejmeš dejstvo, da ti, kot posameznik na odru, nisi smešen in da biti smešen ni tvoja naloga, odkriješ, kje se skriva resničen humor, ki si ga v improvizacijo tako veliko ljudi želi stlačiti na silo. Nekako se zaveš, da ti nisi smešen, ljudje pa so! Zakaj zato ne bi igral ljudi? Pravih, človeških ljudi, ki imajo svojo zgodbo, svoje osebnosti in svoje idiosinkrazije.
Torej, pospravimo svoj ego, nehajmo biti smešni, poslušajmo soigralca in se trudimo, da bo končni izdelek, bodisi replika, prizor ali pa predstava, bolj zloščena in dolžnost, ki jo imamo do naših gledalcev je izpolnjena! Preprosto? Seveda ne in verjetno lahko slišimo dobre stare mantre improvizacije še stokrat, pa bomo na odru še vseeno delali neumnosti. A korak za korakom se lahko posvetimo našemu karakterju in zgodbi, namesto sebi.
Na tej delavnici, nabiti z nauki, novimi pogledi, starimi pogledi, slišanimi na nov način in polni »ahaaa« momentov, smo se vsi zagotovo naučili veliko. Hvala Jacob!
- Katja Brezovar