Là

What's left when you've taken everything away? There's still the white, no doubt. And what still needs to be blown up - to touch the lowest common denominator. To what, obstinately, speaks to us of Là, since Là, still. Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes. For the enchantment, for the passage, as for the joy.

In the beginning, there would be the gesture reduced to the essential: two bodies, two genders, two colors, two dimensions, two kingdoms, the same solitude, the same tenacious desire for it to go on and on. The same deep desire to let oneself be transformed by the other, moved by the other. As if everything existed only to be disturbed or crossed. There would be two humans and a magpie crow embarking on each other in a funny, sensitive and poetic ballet, where each body makes a trace, where each story is written.

First part of a diptych, Là is a prologue, a raw, naked gesture that circulates between body and voice, between rhythms and lifts, between fall and momentum. Nothing is fixed, nothing settles, everything is allowed to tumble. An outpost of Falaise, this first piece reveals the wordless, unstoppable language that unfolds beneath our lives. It turns the space within inside out like a glove, inviting us to observe ourselves in the changing surface stretched by our gestures.