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Deep Dish

a live choreographic film
final part of The Perfect Garden Series in collaboration with Michel Blazy


A dinner party turns into an adventurous ride through the dimensions of macro- and microcosms. The live-images of a handheld camera, directed by the performers, lead through bizarre parallel worlds of organic objects. Methods of film-making, along with acoustic contortions, evoke metaphors of baroque gardens, earthly delights and their inevitable collapse. A society driven by longing and curiosity, flamboyantly but also callously celebrates its own transience in the manifold dimensions of reality, blown up on a big screen. In this still-life, all movement and human behavior is inexorably absorbed by the opulence of nature.

As in the novel Locus Solus, in which the polymath Maître Canterel guides his invitees through different landscapes, one encounters in Deep Dish the beauty and the decadence of a human existence that soon will perish.

In the Perfect Garden Series by Liquid Loft in collaboration with the fine artist Michel Blazy, the motif of the garden is an expression of the human striving for control and their futile escapes from their own transience, but also an image of growth and proliferation that constantly leads to the development of something new.


A fine mess we are in 

The salad doesn't feel fresh anymore. Time drips from the ceiling. Nature knows no determined breaking points, but only diversities, a perpetual becoming, proliferation and decay. The garden is actually truely perfect, but on its own terms - therefore no paradise for us. We have invited ourselves in, without being asked. Fruits, wrested from the garden, are draped to a fleeting, towering monument of festering. In front of a ruin with various protuberances, cliffs, scree slopes, caves and grottos, a high resolution All Seeing Eye, a probe, moves about. We know such great equipment, for example, from the interaction of living organisms and machines in the literally ebullient close- ups of seashells, wooden planks and geysers of seaspray in the movie Leviathan, made by the two anthropologists Véréna Paravel and Lucien Castaing - Taylor.

A precarious sculpture from food. The camera scans and explores it, moved like a dance, by dancers who increasingly coalesce with the thing in the centre. Will they ultimately become a precarious social sculpture themselves? And is the heap on top of the magician's black table still a folly of nature or already art of coincidence. Or is it merely the adventure themepark of a voyeurism that is, much like medicinal imaging techniques, centred around the superhuman capabilities of machine perception? Beauty can be a tilting effect between the imaginary and the real. Suspense, which can be a Mise en Scène full of close-up extremism: confusing because of the refined shift of relative sizes, unfamiliar for the inter- and overlaying of different fragmenst of images. Representative orders are orders of power, and these should and need not be like this.


Ovid's Metamorphoses as posthuman fantasy: An orange skin becomes the otherworldish crater speckled scenery for a science fiction movie not yet shot. Human partial-objects (let's call the arms) meander into the frame as stray living things.The bodies they belong to, are larger than life projections in a lush forest of rotting lettuce and tomatoes, arranged to a fluid picture which could be titled Breakfast in Nature. Teemingly new life floats in a glass of water. It has no soul, but for a short moment, nonetheless, the same rights to self-representation as do all the anthropocentrically infected people around us. Everywhere there is excess, generous waste, Arte Povera 2.0., Fusion and new cell division.

Landscapes from the parallel worlds between computer animation and surrealism, born of the chance encounter of a camera and a strawberry on a dissecting table make the eye jump. In the foreground a real image of a dance performance, that, if in doubt, chooses doubt, could show how two bodies embed themselves into a Pietá-scene. Later on they start bending and stretching, as if controlled remotely by a distant power. The players will talk to each other in strange - and even split - tongues; will make each other vibrate, which causes them to make simultaneous acts and movements: An infection of dance starts to spread.

Limnal spaces are created, emerging states which occur following the ritual denunciation of an earlier collective constellation and lead to a new, provisional relationship of the body in the real image and the projection image. Meanwhile language goes down the drain or becomes unfaithful: As a tool, sometimes only discernible as atmosphere and alienated through technology, it satirizes communicative disruptions and idle time. „Eure ganz großen Themen sind weg!“ ("All your big topics are gone!") is the name of a play by René Pollesch. Talking often loses out against expressive gestures. When word and performance get at each other's hair, when the voice becomes a wave of ones and zeros, nobody any longer understands what the enlightenment meant by autonomy of the subject. Winding and beding bodies have always been reacting to the demands of others, including the director. Their autonomy, their freedom is based on a previous stress on the other, which has always been provided by their social environment. Autonomy is overrated. The philosopher Simon Critchley says: "It is not about building a narcissistic relationship between my free self and the laws, that I give myself. The subject arises from the relation between the fundamental claim of the other to me, which divides me from myself and towards which I act through my agency in the world."

The subject staggers and swaggers between external- and selfdetermination. One just has to listen to the sounds it makes as a whispering, murmuring, screaming man machine. As if the boarders between human articulation, a documentary and simply amplified recording of the audible, on one hand, and acoustic fictitiousness in the age of digital effects and programming, on the other, turned fluid.
Only time drips from the ceiling persitently, all their life. The ceiling falls on our head, we will continue to look for enchanted heterotopias. And we will find them and love them.

Text: Thomas Edlinger
Translation: Oliver Stummer