THERE IS NO LOVE LIKE THE FIRST #art #performance


This is a piece around some postures of the classical dance as it comes to today. "Posture" comes from the Latin word "positura" that means, among other things, "fatigue, work to settle down, disposition, body placement, body attitude, order"- which brings us to the stances of rest, stability or immobility. All terms pertained to an extreme violence to dance, and that usually only take place in analytical approaches in this area.
Nevertheless, there is something of the domain of fixity normally implied in dance in its process of actualization and that is much related to the kind of motion created in the relationship of these dynamic drawings of the body and the proper disposal of the gaze. And that, in the case of the classical dance, appears to involve in a very peculiar game where "thing tried" and "thing seen" are always mediated by a kind of ideal to always chase and never meet.
Therefore, it appears that the "military procession" as Nietzsche says, is always the target of a confusing desire in this particular type of dance; something's always present. And in here, what happens is a journey through some of these figures, where passage and drawing mix by marking a scale capable of the display and return to each other - grabbed and free formation, simultaneously shocking and able of its orientation.
There goes the ideal.
The referent remains.
And ultimately, the referent of the referent, which becomes dull with its tendency for dissimulation and that could look to be first, but is not.

[Hypotheses:
1. The various forms of loving the sentence (the maxim or the tradition).
2. The various forms of incorporation in /of love.
3. Ways to make (and undo) law in/of love.
Etc.]
*
The Sentence.
About There is no love like the first:
the title is mixed up with the proverb or the maxim. It could be said that the phrase that titles here is close to what would be the prescription of a rule, of a law that goes setting up and crystallizing through modes of transmissibility. In other words: the legacy of a sentence. In it presenting an inevitability: "It’s not, it doesn’t go, in other way. As much time passes, this is an unwavering law. I say sure, convict, there is no love like the first!"
 In the maxim exposed this way, the immediate crystallization. Stops the movement of the thought and simultaneously the law is established.
*
Decomposition.
The whole issue of law, of rule, of the firm certainty of the calculated gesture, of the movement adjusted to its place, in short, the convention on the movement of the dance, looms in the play "There's no love like the first". It is not simply an attitude of rejection towards the idea of fixed movements (and thus, in a certain way, the cessation of the gesture) but the subversion from that same fixation, the decomposition of such crystallization taking it as a departure place.
 A love that is given is also the learning. Even if it constitutes the understanding of the place where we cannot stay, the (first) love, the one that must be abandoned, is simultaneously the mark that we carry with us.
*
Irruption.
Body memory - of the love and abandonment.
What happens in There is no love like the first it’s not the jump, the total break with the traditional law of the dance, but under those same repeated gestures, rip, open areas of interruption/irruption.
*
Entry and exit.
The entire piece is the movement of entry and exit. That amorous to and fro motion, that simultaneous distance and proximity, of whatever accompanies us without ever merging with us, it’s what we bring with us in the darkness we cross. What rides with us, in the darkness of what we still unknown, is the small light of presence of that ripped love that enables us to understand and follow some of the gestures made in the dark. Resume the gesture once again, repeat the gestures realizing the way it breaks, this means, its inexhaustibility, the outbreak that happens in the repetition of the same dancing body, tearing the tissue of the law.
*
The wandering.
There is also, in this play, the cigarette, little evidence of the offense of the law and that points to the unnecessary gesture (the smoke as the faint in smoke, the scumble, erase, reduce to ash) and the light of that delict, that little orange tip - a small beacon in our blindness. Also that cigarette, sureness of our desire for disorder, for what is without reason, for wandering, is the guide of our look in the blackest of the scenarios.
*
Light and darkness.
When the light goes on - cadenced intervals - we see random images of a body bent, stretched, curled. We know that the body moves, but we only know it in the darkness. The light coincides with the cessation of the gesture. We retain a fixed instant in the moment the light gives to see - as quickly as a flash. Remains (in our memory) the petrified image of what would be a body alight.
*
Games.
It is the small tip of the cigarette that delivers the gesture, because it moves with the body, because it accompanies it in its flexibility, in its wandering inside the darkness. There is therefore, the entry and exit, inside and off the stage. Entry in the darkness and be subjected to the repetitive flashes; leave. Against total darkness: the little spark; against the lights of fixation (crystallization): darkness. Game of light and shadow. We must escape from the totality of what would it be the permanence in the light or in the shadow.