Reverberations of Three Costume Things
– Liv Kristin Holmberg
This contribution consists of three parts, each arising from a specific costume jam sessions reflecting on the interactions that emerged wtih the specific costume things.
I. Englevingen — The Angel Wing
II. Den kunstliturgiske kappe — The Art–Liturgical Cloak
III. Det hvite lakenet — The White Sheet
Each part includes a poetic text written in Norwegian and translated English which reflects on what Holmberg explored in the session. Each text are presented alongside an image (screen short) from the video documentation from the specific session.
The Norwigean text is placed on top of the image – in order to read it please use the scroller. As sound is also integral in Holmberg's performces as well in her research: all three Norwigean texts are recorded, allowing voice, language and a soundscape to resonate with the visual and written elements.
Together, these components create a constellation of text, translation, image, and sound. They invite shifting rhythms of readings and offer three distinct points into a shared field of inquiry – and yet, the thee constallations are are Holmberg's personal expriences and perspectives of the three movements and respondes to the costumes themselves.
ENGLEVINGEN
Det er Christinas helbredende vinge og ingen andres.
Det er kun Christina som kan bære den,
bruke den.
Den vil beskytte henne.
Jeg tilhører ikke objektet, den tilhører noen annen.
Men lyden peker på en utvei,
den peker på oss andre.
Lokker vingen oss ut av våre gode skinn?
Jeg hører vingens overraskende lyd for mitt indre øre.
Jeg lengter etter å høre vingesukket,
vingepipet.
Vingen blir en lengsel etter en lyd.
Christina, blir korsfarer
en skytsengel
hun lar cottage cheese lokkene skimre i scenelyset,
hun går mot oss,
vingeslag, vingesukk,
soldat av beskyttelse
hun er den soldat som ingen krig består av.
Trommedansen vekker vingens lyd,
gjør den hørbar,
jeg stiller meg i skyggen,
jeg vil se den ristende, sølvskimrende englevingen
igjen og igjen
Hun marsjerer imot oss.
Hun er vinge.
Bli vinge!
Den vingen som forsvinner
Den vingen som skimrer
la ikke stroppene være i veien
de er de hengsler du ikke visste at du trengte
Nå vet vi at fraværet av englepip
kan bli kjernen
i et dramaturgisk forløp
kjernen i en forestilling.
Jeg tillater meg å falle inn i englelogikken,
vekk fra konseptene og fortenkningen,
Tingen kan ikke berøres,
eller bli min,
men jeg kan få den til å lyde, sukke,
jeg kan lage dramaturgisk fravær av englesukk.
Click to explore the three parts:
I. Englevingen — The Angel Wing
II. Den kunstliturgiske kappe — The Art–Liturgical Cloak
III. Det hvite lakenet — The White Sheet
THE ANGEL WING
It is Christina's healing wing and no one else's.
Only Christina can carry it,
use it.
It will protect her.
I do not belong to the object, it belongs to someone else.
But the sound points to a way out,
it points to the rest of us.
Does the wing lure us out of our comfortable skins?
I hear the surprising sound of the wing in my inner ear.
I long to hear the sigh of the wing,
the chirp of the wing.
The wing becomes a longing for a sound.
Christina becomes a crusader,
a guardian angel.
She lets her cottage cheese curls shimmer in the stage lights.
She walks towards us,
wing beats, wing sighs,
soldier of protection.
She is the soldier that no war consists of.
The drum dance awakens the sound of the wing,
makes it audible,
I stand in the shadows,
I want to see the trembling, silver-shimmering angel wing
again and again
She marches towards us.
She is a wing.
Become a wing!
The wing that disappears
The wing that shimmers
don't let the straps get in the way
they are the hinges you didn't know you needed
Now we know that the absence of angel pipes
can become the core
of a dramaturgical process
the core of a performance.
I allow myself to fall into angelic logic,
away from concepts and preconceptions,
The thing cannot be touched,
or become mine,
but I can make it sound, sigh,
I can create a dramaturgical absence of angelic sighs.
DEN KUNSTLITURGISKE KAPPEN
Jeg uttaler at jeg har et ambivalent forhold til kostymet, men
det viser seg å være regelrett løgn.
I vår jamsession fantes det kun overbeskyttende instinkter og
tydelig trang til eiendomsrett.
At andre tok i kappen var som om andre tok på noe ved en selv.
De berører stadig kappen, jeg som trodde det var over,
jeg blir helt svett i hendene,
jeg vil helst at ingen skal røre ved den,
Charlotte trøster kappen etter at en mimeskuespiller har trampet på den.
Jeg setter pris på handlingen, men jeg er stadig urolig.
Det er som om kappen har en makt over meg.
Jeg som ville gi bort kappen,
transformere den,
men det virker ikke som min kropp, mine følelser,
vil det.
Hva bærer denne kappen i seg som tilhører meg?
Kappen er min maske.
Denne kappen er ikke alles, er det slik å forstå?
Og da spør jeg meg selv: I hvilken forstand kan det være en
liturgisk kappe?
Liturgi er et førkristent begrep som er en kombinasjon av det
greske ordet leitos, som betyr offentlig
og ergo som betyr å gjøre.
Liturgi betyr folkets arbeid,
et arbeid for fellesskapet.
Mens denne kappen trigger min
eiesyke
havesyke
maktsyke
Samtidig:
kappen beskytter meg
den gir meg tro.
den gir meg næring
den gir meg mening
den gir meg en pause fra tvilen
Så derfor: jeg syr tvilen inn i kappen
og gir den videre
Click to explore the three parts:
I. Englevingen — The Angel Wing
II. Den kunstliturgiske kappe — The Art–Liturgical Cloak
III. Det hvite lakenet — The White Sheet
THE ARTLITURGICAL CLOAK
I claim to have an ambivalent relationship with the costume,
but this turns out to be a complete lie.
In our jam session, there were only overprotective instincts
and a clear desire for ownership.
When others touched the cloak,
it was as if they were touching some parts of myself.
They keep touching the cloak. I thought it was over,
my hands are getting sweaty.
I would prefer that no one touch it.
Charlotte comforts the cloak after a mime actor steps on it.
I appreciate the gesture, but I am still uneasy.
It is as if the cloak has power over me.
I wanted to give away the cloak,
transform it,
but it seems that my body, my feelings,
do not want that.
What does this cloak carry within it that belongs to me?
The cloak is my mask.
This cloak does not belong to everyone, is that how I should
understand it?
And then I ask myself: in what sense can it be a
liturgical cloak?
Liturgy is a pre-Christian term that is a combination of the
Greek word leitos, which means public
and ergo, which means to do.
Liturgy means the work of the people,
work for the community.
While this cloak triggers my
possessiveness
greed
power sickness
At the same time:
the cloak protects me
it gives me faith.
it nourishes me
it gives me meaning
it gives me a break from doubt
So therefore: I sew the doubt into the cloak
and pass it on.
DET HVITE LAKENET
Å være stille med tingen, kun holde det i hendene. Ingenting mer kreves.
Å være helt stille. Holde det i hendene.
Da vi spente lakenet mellom oss, tillot vi vår tyngde,
vi tillot at vi kunne dra i hver vår retning,
og samtidig
skapte vi et fellesskap:
det store hvite bordet.
Det var et håp der.
Tingen (lakenet) skapte en ny mulighet for å være sammen.
Ensomheten, natten, den mørke sengen
ble forvandlet til nattverdsbord, alter, springbrett,
det hvite lakenet ble en redning for alle fallende.
En trampoline. Et oppløftende fellesskap.
Vi kunne legge oss og samtidig dra i hver vår retning,
dette lysende hvite
dette lyset fulgte meg gjennom dagen
lakenet ble et rom
lakenet ble et bilde
nedfelt i meg.
Bildet finnes stadig i meg,
Jeg kan hente opp dette bilde
og det kan når som helst bli virkelighet igjen.
Click to explore the three parts:
I. Englevingen — The Angel Wing
II. Den kunstliturgiske kappe — The Art–Liturgical Cloak
III. Det hvite lakenet — The White Sheet
THE WHITE SHEET
Be quiet with the thing, just hold it in your hands. Nothing more is required.
Be completely quiet. Hold it in your hands.
When we stretched the sheet between us, we allowed our weight,
we allowed ourselves to pull in different directions,
and at the same time
we created a community:
the large white table.
There was hope there.
The thing (the sheet) created a new opportunity to be together.
The loneliness, the night, the dark bed
were transformed into a communion table, an altar, a springboard,
the white sheet became a rescue for all who were falling.
A trampoline. An uplifting community.
We could lie down and at the same time pull in our own directions,
this bright white
this light followed me through the day
the sheet became a room
the sheet became an image
embedded in me.
The image is still within me,
I can bring up this image
and any time, it can become reality again.