I would like to. But, although I do have many memories of my shows, I remember them in the wrong order. I remember them as the result of an encounter, a feeling, a smell, a music, a country, an audience, but never because of a date, an anniversary, never in the order I have lived them. Of passing time, I know neither the standard nor the measure.
Resistant and outraged, they claim their identity and summon their ancient memory ; the one from the ancient Scythian civilisation based on matriarchy. To this nomadic people, the horse was at the origin of a remarkable gender equality : riding long distances and encourage their mount to combat was the prerogative of women as much as it was for men, and all the same for the practice of art.
Bartabas invites Iranian artists β musicians, singers and dancers β to join his half-women half-horses tribe and, through the voices of famous and anonymous poetesses, to give voice to the song of a Persian woman freed from her mystical attributes and claiming her right to a passionate love.
At sunrise, in silence and concentration, is when the body and mind are most available for deep listening. As a performer, I am searching for these moments, which are impossible to recreate.
It is an adventure which puts the viewer in a position of proximity, intimacy, almost indecency⦠So that they may surprise what is usually kept from sight. With the support of the IRCAM, Manuel Poletti will create the sound rendering, generated and edited in real time, in order to put the intimacy of the man and the horse, evolving as one, in music.
