I can’t dance. I can’t in my room, nor in a club, let alone any kind of stage. Whenever I am forced to try, I stumble or freeze. However, this time, for the first time, I found myself actively involved in dancing – even if by using someone else’s body.
In my project I function as a visual choreographer, making up a certain movement language that is the outcome of a verbal dialogue between the photographed dancer and I. On my part, it is a language born of a screech, it is uncomfortably beautiful.
I don’t predetermine the result – insisting on well-planned perfectness – but rather establish a strong understanding, let the dancer improvise and capture his movements. Afterwards, I experiment with layering various photos on top of each other, searching for intriguing combinations.
My subjects provided me with the physical intelligence. I only had vague mental images, a camera, and a long history of unused dancefloors.
