GRACE
GRACE
an attempt at touching
opening nights of the performance in Cirkulacija² in Ljubljana:
• May 21, 2024 at 8 p.m.
• May 24, 2024 at 8 p.m.
• May 25, 2024 at 8 p.m.
• May 28, 2024 at 8 p.m.
• May 30, 2024 at 8 p.m.
duration: 52 minutes, period: zero/0 tolerance
“All the natural movements of the soul are controlled by laws analogous to those of physical gravity. Grace is the only exception. Grace fills empty spaces, but it can only enter where there is a void to receive it, and it is grace itself which makes this void. The imagination is continually at work filling up all the fissures through which grace might pass.” ― Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace, January 1, 1947
It’s raining. On the wooden, thatched roof, the drops scribble upon the living book of existence, which, like the noise of the sea, cannot be translated into any human language. As the rain subsides, the birds call louder and louder from the treetops. Even before the last drops fall, the birds suddenly fall silent. And then they fly away on a gentle breeze.
While the mass media chase emotional hurricanes and provide fast food information, grace works on the level of tiny bursts, gentle connections, and quiet interventions. Grace is driven by emptiness. Megabytes reach other continents in seconds and expand their spare parts. Let's take off our shoes. Let's get off the ground. Every person and every object is involved. Take one. With the feeling of gravity.
Painting with air dissolves the wall and the sound of castrates opens up the silence, this is not creation in progress, but simply a way of awakening to life. Everyone present exhales observations and inhales new ones. We think with our souls and our understanding melts gently like an ice cube in a glass of warm water. By layering holes into the invisible cracks of space within the performative econometrics of interactions, we seem to hear a love song from Resia and see a girl with a whistle.
Every gesture in this attempt at touching is like the woman from the Rijksmuseum pouring milk from a jug into a bowl in mock silence and concentration. Grace is not a code, but an interweaving of our senses in the fragile context of before and after. The white birch grazes its race, everything is dire.
"I woke up from the common nightmare into my own and I saw an angel in it. It stood in the sun and called out in a loud voice to all the birds flying in the sky." ― Iva Jevtić in the poem Revelation
script and direction: Gotvan Vlado Repnik
dramaturgy: Nina Meško
performer: Borut Savski
performer: Tatiana Kocmur
a=tF²: !gor #352;
performer: Jernej Šmid
performer: Marko Batista
video design: Simon Svetlik
editing: GVRLAN
supervision: Simon Kardum
special thanks: Ana Romih, Mia Batista, Tomaž Kolarič, Tomaž Šalamun
photo: Sunčan Stone
· production: GVR Institute for Contemporary Art Ljubljana
· co-production: Cirkulacija², Kino Šiška, ACE KIBLA
· the performance is co-financed by the Ministry of Culture of the Republic of Slovenia and the Municipality of Ljubljana
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