You can now catch me on qudusonikeku.com

To now follow more updates and news on projects and travels. you can now do that via qudusonikeku.com. Thanks and see you around.

www.qudusonikeku.com

Entretien avec Qudus Onikeku

Fasciné à la vue d’un homme se livrant à des acrobaties, c’est âgé d’à peine cinq ans que Qudus Onikeku, né en 1984 à Lagos, tente de l’imiter et se met en mouvement. Adolescent, il se forme au sein des Ballets du Nigeria, où il se lasse rapidement de la gestuelle répétitive des danseurs traditionnels nigérians. Il suit alors des stages de danse contemporaine et rejoint, en 2003, la compagnie d’Heddy Maalem, pour lequel il interprète notamment Le Sacre du printemps. Son apprentissage de l’acrobatie au Centre national des Arts du cirque (CNAC) de Châlons-en-Champagne, mais aussi du hip hop et de la capoeira, lui permet de s’affranchir des vocabulaires chorégraphiques codifiés. La forme l’intéresse en effet moins que le sens et l’intensité du présent partagé, avec ses compagnons et avec le public, pendant le temps de la représentation. Réfléchir l’art et le monde d’un point de vue qui lui est propre, façonné par ses origines mais aussi par la réalité internationale de son activité, voilà ce qui anime vraiment Qudus Onikeku. Depuis quelques années, il développe une danse puissante et ciselée, occupant l’espace à la manière d’un arpenteur et d’un guerrier. Inspiré par la culture yoruba, l’un des plus anciens peuples d’Afrique, en questionnement perpétuel sur l’histoire du Nigeria, Qudus Onikeku explore les relations complexes entre individu, mémoire, corps et Histoire. QADDISH est le dernier volet d’une trilogie composée d’un solo sur la solitude, My Exile is in my Head et d’une pièce sur la tragédie de l’Histoire, STILL/life, dont une première version avait été créée avec Damien Jalet en 2011 au Festival d’Avignon dans le cadre des Sujets à Vif.

www.qudusonikeku.com

Entretien avec Qudus Onikeku

QADDISH est le dernier volet d’une trilogie. Quel est le fil conducteur entre vos trois dernie`res créations : My Exile is in my Head, STILL/life et QADDISH?

Qudus Onikeku : L’idée d’une trilogie cohérente est apparue au fil des créations, plus précisément après STILL/life : chaque pièce réclamait en quelque sorte la suivante. Dans la première, My Exile is in my Head, il était question de solitude extrême et d’exil. Dans STILL/life, je m’intéressais à la tragédie de l’Histoire et aux façons dont on peut y échapper ou pas. Pour QADDISH, j’ai décidé de travailler sur l’idée de mémoire, de généalogie et de tradition. L’histoire du Nigeria, ou plutôt l’histoire officielle du Nigeria telle qu’on peut la lire dans les manuels scolaires, m’interroge beaucoup. Le Nigeria que l’on connaît a moins de cent ans : il existe depuis 1914, date à laquelle le Britannique Frederick Lugard unifia deux territoires, le Nigeria du Nord et le Nigeria du Sud, dans la nouvelle colonie du Nigeria. La formation de celle-ci résultait de transactions commerciales, dont je ressens, dans mon corps, qu’elles ne sont pas mon histoire. Il s’agit donc de prendre de la distance avec cette histoire telle qu’elle est racontée, avec la politique qui façonne nos identités. Pour moi, la solitude permet de trouver un état brut, hors contexte, affranchi des récits. Avec My Exile is in my Head, j’ai cherché à éprouver une présence radicale, afin de rencontrer le corps et l’être qui est dans le corps, presque enterré. Pour pouvoir trouver ce corps, il faut s’échapper de son histoire, de ce qu’on nous a transmis. J’ai donc poursuivi ce cheminement sur une voie plus politique dans STILL/life : comment l’Histoire peut-elle à ce point être imprimée en moi alors que je ne la connais même pas? Comment sommes-nous empêtrés dans tout cela?

Qu’en est-il alors du propos de QADDISH? Est-il plus intime?

QADDISH trouve sa genèse dans mes interrogations sur ma généalogie. Mon père a quatre-vingts ans et va probablement bientôt nous quitter. Au lieu d’attendre ce moment-là pour honorer sa mémoire, je voudrais la recevoir avant qu’il ne parte.

Je souhaite utiliser la mémoire de mon père comme une prolongation de moi-même, de ma propre mémoire. Lorsque je danse, j’ai la sensation que mon corps transporte une mémoire qui me dépasse, mais qui s’échappe dès que je cesse de danser. Je ne suis pas sûr de trouver des réponses dans les quatre-vingts années de vie de mon père, mais je pense qu’elles peuvent être un véhicule, le début d’un voyage qui nous emmène tous les deux encore plus loin dans l’Histoire. Il était lui-même enfant quand ses parents sont morts. Il est né dans un pays occupé, alors que son père, lui, a vécu l’arrivée des colons. Dans la mesure où je suis né dans un pays dit «libre», j’ai à cet égard plus de choses en commun avec ce dernier, qui a vécu une partie de sa vie hors de l’histoire coloniale.

Comment s’est déroulé cette quête?

J’ai commencé par un voyage avec mon père à Abeokuta, sa ville natale, d’où viennent également le chanteur Fela Kuti et d’autres grands artistes nigérians. Je souhaitais y faire des recherches sur la tradition yoruba, en particulier sur les masques qui nourrissent, depuis longtemps, mon travail artistique. La tradition de ce peuple, qui est l’un des plus anciens d’Afrique, n’est pas qu’une affaire spirituelle ou transcendantale : elle repose sur toute une série de codes. Avec tous ces codes, je veux essayer de créer une danse, un langage. À partir de cette tradition, je souhaite inventer une fiction, une proposition poétique.

Au cours de ce voyage, Charles Amblard a enregistré beaucoup de sons, de moments que l’on retrouvera peut-être sur scène. Mais l’important n’était pas tant de ramener des matériaux que d’être là-bas, de trouver un état, des essences, quelque chose dans la culture yoruba qui n’a rien à voir avec le monde d’aujourd’hui. Trouver ce qui, dans cette tradition, peut modifier le corps.

Vous êtes également parti en Malaisie. Le voyage est-il un élément important dans votre processus de création?

Quand je prépare un spectacle, le voyage est en effet très important. Je me déplace beaucoup, en Malaisie et dernièrement aux États-Unis, car cela fait partie du processus de création. C’est le même corps, le mien, qui danse chaque spectacle. Pour changer l’espace et la danse, il faut donc faire entrer le corps dans une autre dimension. Ma danse vient surtout de l’inconscient, de couches de mémoire qui recouvrent mon corps et dont je ne suis pas conscient. Les voyages me permettent d’éplucher ces couches pour atteindre quelque chose de profond. En travaillant sur des états de conscience, je travaille sur des états de corps et modifie ainsi ma danse. En Malaisie, par exemple, j’ai pu rencontrer des gens, des énergies qui me sont proches tout en restant étrangers. On trouve là-bas des philosophies, des traditions, en particulier celles du masque, qui sont assez similaires à celles du Nigeria et cependant, tout y est différent. Le hasard participe, bien entendu, de ces voyages : je ne serais jamais allé en Malaisie si on ne m’avait pas proposé une résidence là-bas!

Les masques que vous évoquez occuperont-ils une place dans votre pièce?

Le masque m’intéresse moins en tant qu’objet qu’en tant que véhicule et expression d’une philosophie. Dans les cérémonies qui mettent en scène les masques dans la culture yoruba, le « spectacle » commence bien avant l’événement, des semaines en amont. Dans mon travail, je considère que la représentation n’est qu’un événement parmi d’autres du spectacle. Tout commence bien avant la lumière qui s’éteint… Je ne sais donc pas si les masques seront sur scène. Ce que je sais, c’est qu’ils sont bien plus que des objets de décor ou de simples accessoires.

Pourquoi avoir intitulé votre spectacle QADDISH?

Ce titre vient d’un jeu avec mon prénom. Le terme «Kaddish», qui désigne la prière juive pour les morts, signifie «saint», mot qui, en arabe, se dit «Quds» ou «Qudus». Voilà pourquoi j’ai orthographié le titre de la pièce QADDISH et non pas KADDISH.

Sur les raisons plus profondes de ce choix, tout est parti du Kaddish de Maurice Ravel, absolument extraordinaire. Les oeuvres sacrées, de manière générale, me touchent beaucoup. En entamant davantage de recherches sur la thématique, j’ai découvert que le Kaddish avait la même signification que le Notre Père dans la liturgie catholique et que la Fatihamusulmane. Il s’agissait donc d’un thème universel. Dans QADDISH, je veux suggérer que mon père, c’est aussi notre père, notre passé, notre mémoire à chacun et qu’Abeokuta, la ville où nous sommes partis sur les traces de notre mémoire, pourrait aussi bien être n’importe quel autre lieu, Babylone ou Athènes par exemple. Même si mes spectacles trouvent leur origine dans quelque chose de très personnel, je ne veux pas parler de mon histoire en particulier. Je veux parler de nous tous. Une oeuvre de Maurice Ravel sera, entre autres, interprétée sur le plateau par le violoncelliste Umberto Clerici et la soprano Valentina Coladonato, deux musiciens que j’ai rencontrés en 2011 à l’occasion d’une création avec un orchestre classique en Italie. Sur scène, Charles Amblard et Emil Abossolo Mbo seront également présents. Et quelque part, dans la salle, il y aura sans doute mon père, qui m’a accompagné pendant toute la durée de la création.

Pouvez-vous nous parler un peu de la culture yoruba? En quoi vous inspire-t-elle?

Ce qui m’intéresse le plus dans cette culture, c’est un rapport spécifique au temps, un questionnement qui compte parmi mes obsessions. Le temps n’y est pas appréhendé de façon linéaire : les notions de passé, de présent et de futur n’ont pas beaucoup de sens. Par conséquent, le travail de mémoire n’est pas uniquement rétrospectif : ce n’est pas une pelote de laine que l’on déroule. On ne peut pas se contenter de regarder le passé pour comprendre le présent. Car le passé change selon qui le regarde, selon qui le manipule. De la même façon, prévoir le futur à partir du présent ne rime à rien. C’est pourquoi, dans la philosophie Yoruba, il y a au moins cent récits sur les débuts du monde. Ils sont tous différents et tous vrais. Si quelqu’un raconte une histoire, on considère que c’est la sienne et qu’à ce titre, elle est véritable et digne d’intérêt. Il y a quelque chose de très démocratique dans cette philosophie. La culture yoruba développe aussi des liens très intéressants entre les notions de spectacle, de souvenir et d’instant présent. Les mots «spectacle» et «souvenir» ont la même racine, tout comme les mots «image» et «maintenant». Plus que le contenu communiqué, c’est le présent partagé qui est important. Cette idée me plaît beaucoup : pendant mes spectacles, tous les pores de ma peau transportent des radiations, de la mémoire. Il ne s’agit pas de comprendre quoi que ce soit, mais d’être là maintenant. Et dans ce «maintenant», il n’y a rien à analyser, il n’y a que de l’expérience à vivre.

J’ai le sentiment qu’en Europe, on recherche toujours un mode d’emploi alors que parfois, pourtant, moins on fait d’efforts et plus on comprend. Il faut donc savoir se relâcher pour accéder à l’événement, être humble, comme je le suis sur scène. Je dois être présent. Apaiser le temps, le public, contrôler l’énergie pour que l’on puisse faire le voyage ensemble.

Pourtant, vos pièces sont traversées par de multiples récits et de multiples influences…

La connaissance, ce n’est que du passé qui s’est immiscé dans le présent, mais ça n’est pas le spectacle pour moi. Il faut se départir de tout ce que l’on a appris. Je dis régulièrement à mes étudiants : «Votre mémoire constitue des bagages. C’est lourd, alors sur scène, il faut l’oublier.» Tout comme les techniques que l’on a pu apprendre : pour moi, la capoeira, le hip hop, la danse africaine, etc. Sur scène, je peux être vide. L’espace peut alors entrer en moi. C’est aussi ce que je demande au public : être vide. S’il n’est pas vide, ou disponible, je ne peux pas rentrer en lui et si je ne rentre pas, le rituel ne marche pas. De la même manière, je suis chaque soir vide de la mémoire d’hier, des représentations précédentes : c’est à chaque fois une nouvelle expérience avec des gens nouveaux. C’est pourquoi l’improvisation est importante dans mes pièces. Et c’est pourquoi il y a rarement des surtitres : je ne veux pas que l’on s’arrête sur du discours, que l’on s’interroge sur ce qui est dit. L’enjeu n’est pas de l’ordre de la compréhension. C’est exactement comme dans la poésie ou dans la musique classique : je cherche du ressenti. Une conscience cosmique, dont on ne peut avoir qu’une perception, mais certainement pas de compréhension.

Existe-t-il selon vous une danse contemporaine africaine?

Ce qui m’intéresse, c’est de puiser dans nos cultures pour créer aujourd’hui. Je m’intéresse à tous ces artistes qui ont créé des masques, à ces gens qui ont pensé la philosophie yoruba, à tout ce qui a été détruit, effacé ou qualifié de démoniaque par le christianisme. Je veux exhumer cette philosophie et la faire vivre au présent sur une scène. Est-ce que cela donne pour autant de la danse contemporaine? Peut-être. Mais au-delà des étiquettes, ce qui m’intéresse est purement artistique et philosophique : comment se ré-ancrer dans nos cultures d’origine et dialoguer avec le monde.

Propos recueillis par Renan Benyamina

QADDISH

THEÅLA^TRE BENOI^T-XII

durée estimée 1h - spectacle en anglais surtitré en français - création 2013

6 7 8 9 1 0 1 2 1 3 À 17H

conception et chorégraphie Qudus Onikeku dramaturgie Emil Abossolo Mbo scénographie et lumière Guillaume Fesneau, Aby Mathieu son CleÅLment Marie Mathieu

avec Emil Abossolo Mbo, Qudus Onikeku

la soprano Valentina Coladonato et les musiciens Charles Amblard, Umberto Clerici

production Compagnie YKProjects

coproduction Festival d’Avignon, Parc de la Villette (résidence d’artistes 2013), Musée de la danse/Centre chorégraphique national de Rennes et de Bretagne, Théâtre de Grasse

accueil en résidence au Centre national de la Danse (Pantin), au Rimbun Dahan (Kuala Lumpur), à l’University of California (Davis) dans le cadre de Grenada Artist in Residence et à la compagnie Systeme Castafiore (Grasse)

avec le soutien de la Région Île-de-France, de la CCAS, de la Spedidam et du Ministère de la Culture et de la Communication DRAC Île-de-France

Le Festival d’Avignon reçoit le soutien de Total pour l’accueil de ce spectacle.

&

AVEC LA CCAS, DANS LE CADRE DE CONTRE COURANT

MY EXILE IS IN MY HEAD

15 juillet à 22h - ROND-POINT DE LA BARTHELASSE

chorégraphie et interprétation Qudus Onikeku texte Zena Edwards lumière Guillaume Fesneau

(voir page 163)

TERRITOIRES CINÉMATOGRAPHIQUES

DO WE NEED COLA COLA TO DANCE ? deQudus Onikeku

UTOPIA-MANUTENTION

(voir page 147)

Revue de STILL/life

« Still/Life » de Qudus Onikeku. 

La Maison de la Danse invite à Lyon, dans le cadre du festival La Maison Sens Dessus Dessous, le stupéfiant danseur nigérian Qudus Onikeku.

Still/life, les 25 et 26 mai au Nouveau Théâtre du Huitième, 22 rue commandant Pégout-Lyon 8.

(© Sarah Hickson)

Still life signifie “nature morte”. Ce n’est pourtant pas une corbeille de fruits que peint Qudus Onikeku dans son spectacle. Séparant les deux mots d’un slash (Still/life) c’est sur la brèche qu’ouvre leur combinaison, “encore ici, en vie” que le danseur tisse de multiples variations. Les tragédies de l’histoire africaine traversent sa pièce comme autant de touches chromatiques, de fragments composant un ensemble abstrait. Pas de récit, encore moins de commentaires : Qudus Onikeku est le maître d’une cérémonie brute et virtuose qui pose cependant une question : «qu’est-ce qui fait qu’un homme peut se transformer subitement en monstre ?». La transformation d’une victime en bourreau, le tiraillement et les conflits intérieurs sont les motifs du rituel, traités comme des inspirations chorégraphiques plutôt que comme des thèmes documentaires. Formé à l’acrobatie, aux danses traditionnelles de son pays (le Nigéria) ainsi qu’à la danse contemporaine, Onikeku s’affranchit des styles et atteint un état de présence magique, subjuguant d’intensité. Sa danse est tout à tour féline et tellurique, il dévore l’espace avant de se replier, mutique ou provocateur, sur lui-même. Pour trouver ces états de corps uniques, il voyage beaucoup. Il emprunte à la philosophie yoruba, dont il se revendique l’héritier, ses préoccupations : la pluralité des mémoires, la non-linéarité du temps, le présent comme lieu ultime de la relation. Et la confronte, au fil de ses recherches et créations, aux cultures du monde entier. Un monde entier qu’il ramène, dans Still/life, sur quelques mètres carrés. L’espace y est borné par une conque de panneaux comme autant d’écrans sur lesquels la lumière peut se réfléchir et des images mentales se projeter ; une toile en morceaux, une mémoire éclatée en bris de verre entre ordre et chaos. Qudus Onikeku évolue dans ce décor sur la musique live de Charles Amblard et le chant, entre cris, ode et implorations, de Habeeb Awoko. À ce stade de complicité entre les trois hommes, on ne peut plus guère parler de solo ; chacun répond au souffle et à l’énergie de ses compagnons, dans un échange à la fois extrêmement réglé et ouvert à chaque instant à l’improvisation. Still/life, pièce créée dans une première version avec le danseur chorégraphe Damien Jallet, est une bonne occasion pour découvrir cet artiste unique et prometteur avant son prochain spectacle, Qaddish, présenté au Festival d’Avignon.

par Renan Benyamina

Defending my own Name. 'Qaddish'

Defending my own Name. 'Qaddish'

In the face of the world, I'm undoubtedly a Black and an African man, but the question for me has never been in the realm of denying nor romanticizing, not worrying whether I'm black enough or being too African. We live under a construct which have placed more emphasis on defining and outlining who we are, so rather than just dancing and communicating ourselves in our own simple and naive manners, we now - through the obligation of the other - spend time imitating an idea of ourselves. For me, there will be no denying nor romanticizing, for this is usually the price to pay in acquiring that legitimacy that is offered to traveling artists outside their terrain, but rather I look at things more holistically and all inclusive. So it's always about how to communicate my own ideas of the world, how to defend my name without dissociating myself from and above misrepresentation? I don't require any validation for that. 

For clarity of motive, I begin by stating that my real given name is Adul-Quddus, an Arabic root name which translates to 'the servant of The Holy' but if simply called Quddus, it means Holy. in Aramaic language, Quddus transforms to Qaddish.

In 2009/2010 all my personal preoccupations were concerned mostly with question of exile and solitude, deconstructing the concept of home as static four walls, but gravely in search of aloneness and alienation, and seeking ways of gaining access to the deepest part of my inner self, a process that was so required when the rupturing divorce with Nigeria blatantly stares me strongly in the face, then I created 'My Exile is in my Head'. In 2011/2012, the quest moves further to trying to undo the myriad lies and errors in human history, denying the very existence of history and nation-states, but to argue that the sole motive that makes up a society, are different individuals, making selfish decisions to support their personal interests, and so I created STILL/life, wondering what it is that prop up the minds of men, that they set up ideas which they later think they can bow down and offer sacrifices to, and in the process transforms them into murderous monsters. 

Now again, the quest has led into newer byways. From recreation of the self, to the negation of history, and now to the quest for memory. As my dance practice intensifies, the perception becomes even clearer, my body protest that there are things to remember, things that I never knew that I know, body memory that is. When I dance I remember, when I stop dancing, my conscious memory becomes too short and perhaps too corrupted to go that far and clear. So my preoccupation lately have been to return - in a manner of speaking - to somewhere deep in the earth, to link the far past with the present, the living with the dead, the human with the divine and the present with the near future. I have began work on a new piece, QADDISH which is the last part of this existential trilogy of mine, in which I've initiated a journey with my 80 years old father, a journey we are starting from his hometown Abeokuta. 

Journeys in general term serves as trope for the Yoruba, in cognitive aesthetic terms. Its aesthetics development, even in everyday speech, serves as a primed prefix to any wise saying, rendered as Yorùbá bọ, that is, the "Yoruba retorts or returns", "Retorts" in this sense shares a verb and semantic equivalence with "returns". In other words, Knowledge and discovery are predicated on a temporal and spatio-spiritual journey. Qaddish will exhibit several dimensions of this spiritual journey in space and time. Time present, past and future dialogue will compete for attention. An aspect of this will be evident in the display of an interactive Wheelchair, whose presence in space will trigger a dialog with the past, and its auto movement in space compels us to acknowledge the present. 

Drawing from the Yoruba cosmogony and collaborating with modern day use of robotic technology, the Wheelchair will embody the metaphor of the space-time continuum as in most African masks. Breaking the words literally, we get 'wheel', usually used to pierce time and space, and 'chair' as a static designed object slowing down time and marking a static space, since time cannot be separated from space, we have 'time-space,' in other words, the undecoded 'wheel-chair' is fossilized message, a single instance that is representative of other instances, other spaces and times, it is a repository of the intrinsic connectedness of temporal and spacial relationship, of a time past and of current knowledge such as myth, legend and the history such paradox exhibits. 

Through its evocation of several dimensions of time, realized in the congealed narratives of the figurative sculpture of condensed myths, current discourses, and a power to prognosticate, the wheelchair suggests a multimedia event, even in its static state, it compel a visual discourse. The chair will exercise an anarchic force upon perceptions, breaking down compartmentalizing categories by being able to move unaided by living beings and uninhibited between reality and magic, the referential and the semantic. 

In my approach to art, one thing is clear, this one thing however, might be seen as connection of many things that have simultaneously come to rest within my restless mind, and my body have created a precept and a refuge for these complexities. My personal need for comprehension, for finding answers to the many questions that surfaces on my mind on a daily basis, together with my own personal artistic preoccupation, with a dire need to heel and to advance art and humanity, and to be a bridge between aesthetics that has either been wrongly understood or dismissed as low art, and in all of that i have also find a space for my spirituality, in search of unity with the cosmos, with God and hoping to recover a certain verticality, to recover the authentic self that is neither subjugated to norms, history, the past nor thrown aback in his right to the assured presence. This meant for me tapping into age long Yoruba philosophies, which already neatly outlined the part of the self, of alterity, of the commune and of the divine, in its imagination and the role of aesthetic beauty and of art. With enough skills, talent, experience and knowledge, that i have been able to gather and exercise through my practice, i hope to take from this diverse sources aesthetic and transpose them into contemporary, and urban context. 

I am particularly animated by body memory, rather than history, by the will to reach out and communicate with the audience, above the will to express something of the self, and in so, I've constantly searched for ways to fuse poetic attitudes with a particularly traditional satirical and fictitious modes of story telling, as in the griot tradition, combining both social history, collective memory or collective amnesia with personal autobiography, as a critical lunching pad in the process of myth reading and communal rejuvenation. In most of my works - including group pieces - the dancer is always given the dramaturgic and choreographic liberty, to present himself as himself but pointing to something else, there is restricted level of show off, but a responsibility of an interpreter and the humility of a messenger. Through self exposure and auto derision, or self fortification and self proclamation, the dancer also weans his audience from any license of criticism they might have of both his art and the message thereon.

I have by no means felt at ease with the saying that "Dance is a language" or a 'form' of 'expression' and often outraged by audiences who want - by all means - to understand my performance, as one probably understands a piece of writing. Language can do less when dance is in view, and 'forms' denote something fixed. Body movement, or simply put, action has always been a superior mode of thought and of communication, therefore, the contextual meanings in my performances are neither eternal nor immutable, but mere signifiers in time and space. For me, a performance is simply an experience, not a cerebral one however, it is rather a brief shared moment of vitality, of healing, of social purification, where i sometimes make allusions to antisocial behaviors, but above all it is to mediate between the here and then and to make balance. 

My audience are invited to share communicative experience through many different sensory channels simultaneously; verbal, musical, choreographic and visual aesthetic dimensions, they all become part of the components of the total message, whereby there exist a personal alchemy between the 'performers' and every member of the audience, because in the Yoruba tradition, we believe that the eyes has got only two foods that feeds it, one is Iran, a magical spectacle or a choreographic display and the other is ewa, which is beauty. As beauty is relative, magical spectacle and choreographic display takes more of my attention, because it creates its own beauty in its own terms. 

This shows the importance the Yoruba attaches to intense and visceral body movements, artistic, acrobatic, or magical display, as a means of securing attention and thereby influencing both the human and the divine. Spectacle (Iran) in this sense denotes an happening that seldom occurs in everyday life, and hence a relish for the eyes. Conversely, Iran spanning from the root word iranti (remembering) is a memorable experience, lingering visually and aurally in the subconscious. In the visual art, an image or sculpture is called Aworan, a contraction of A-wo-ranti (a visual reminder) literally "what we look at to remember." Beyond and above the need to delight the senses alone by entertaining or educating it, a performance is also to establish a direct (active) body to (passive) body transmission, as well as a framework for regulating the social and cosmic orders. 

Qudus Onikeku : fulgurance centripète et centrifuge !!!

Qudus Onikeku : fulgurance centripète et centrifuge !!!

Observer Qudus danser est une réjouissance simple, puissante, inouie.
Ce jeune homme a reçu le don de la danse et le cultive.
Il sait tout faire, sauter, tomber, rebondir, aller à toute birzingue et s’arrêter net en souriant.
Il s’envoie en l’air sans prévenir, comme une déflagration. Il défie et s’amuse de la gravité.
Ses déséquilibres permanents sont insaisissables. Pure énergie.
Fluidité, rebonds, flip flap, sauts périlleux arrières, il rebondit comme une balle folle.
Et son sourire, il faut l’avoir vu sourire.
Lorsque son visage s’illumine comme pour nous prendre à témoin, en nous questionnant : et ça,
vous l’aviez imaginé??? Et bien, non, cher Qudus !!!

Qudus est un rêve ambulant et un guerrier à la recherche de l’absolu.
Il s’accapare de l’espace pour l’exploser. C’est le Nijinski d’aujourd’hui.
Il s’élève avec une vélocité maximale, tant et si bien que nous nous frottons les yeux
comme après un mirage. Equilibres sur la tête, sur les mains, sur le dos, sur les genoux,
il défie en permanence les lois de l’apesanteur. Ses chutes au ralenti sont un miracle du carrefour de l’horizontalité et de la verticalité.

Son engagement est un bonheur qu’il partage avec une générosité
irrésistible. Enjoy for ever, la danse phénoménale de Qudus Onikeku

Regine Chopinot le 24/04/2012 (Pour La remise de Prix SACD - Nouveaux Talent Chorégraphie)

English Translation 

Qudus Onikeku: fulgurant centripetal and centrifugal!!! 

Observing Qudus dance is simply a joy, powerful, amazing. This young man has received the gift of dance and cultivates it. He can do everything, jump, fall, rebound, go to all birzingue and stops instantly, yet with a smile. He goes into the air without warning, like a deflagration. He defies gravity while having fun with it. His permanent imbalances are imperceptible. Pure energy. Fluidity, rebounds, flip flap, back somersaults, he rebounds like a crazy ball. And his smile, you have to see him smiling. When his face illuminates, its like taking us to witness, by questioning us: and that, you imagined it??? well, no, dear Qudus!!! 

 Qudus is a travelling dream and a warrior in search of the absolute. He monopolizes space to explode it. He is the Nijinski of today. He rises with a maximum swiftness, so much and so well that we wipe our eyes as in after a mirage. Balancing on the head, the hands, the back, the knees, he defies the laws of gravity permanently. His slow motioned falls are a miracle at the crossroads of horizontality and verticality. His engagement is a joy which he shares with an irresistible generosity. Enjoy for ever, the phenomenal dance of Qudus Onikeku 

Regine Chopinot le 24/04/2012 (For the handing-over of 2012 SACD Price - New Choreographic Talent)

Qudus Onikeku STILL/life

You can Save someone's life.

You can Save someone's life by sharing this.

STROKE IDENTIFICATION:

During a party, a friend stumbled and took a little fall - she assured everyone that she was fine and just tripped over a brick because of her new shoes. (they offered to call ambulance)

They got her cleaned up and got her a new plate of food - while she appeared a bit shaken up, Ingrid went about enjoying herself the rest of the evening. Ingrid's husband called later telling everyone that his wife had been taken to the hospital - (at 6:00pm , Ingrid passed away.)
She had suffered a stroke at the party . Had they known how to identify the signs of a stroke, perhaps Ingrid would be with us today.

Some don't die. They end up in a helpless, hopeless condition instead. It only takes a minute to read this...

STROKE IDENTIFICATION:

A neurologist says that if he can get to a stroke victim within 3 hours he can totally reverse the effects of a stroke...totally. He said the trick was getting a stroke recognized, diagnosed, and then getting the patient medically cared for within 3 hours, which is tough.

RECOGNIZING A STROKE

Remember the '3' steps, STR . Read and Learn!
Sometimes symptoms of a stroke are difficult to identify. Unfortunately, the lack of awareness spells disaster.
The stroke victim may suffer severe brain damage when people nearby fail to recognize the symptoms of a stroke.
Now doctors say a bystander can recognize a stroke by asking three simple questions :

S * Ask the individual to SMILE ..
T * = TALK. Ask the person to SPEAK A SIMPLE SENTENCE (Coherently) (eg 'It is sunny out today').
R * Ask him or her to RAISE BOTH ARMS .

If he or she has trouble with ANY ONE of these tasks, call the ambulance and describe the symptoms to the dispatcher.

NOTE : Another 'sign' of a stroke is
1. Ask the person to 'stick' out their tongue.
2. If the tongue is 'crooked', if it goes to one side or the other that is also an indication of a stroke.

A prominent cardiologist says if everyone who gets this status shares it; you can bet that at least one life will be saved.

And it could be your own.

*FOR THE RECORD NOT ALL STROKES ARE THE SAME AND AS DESCRIBED HERE*

STILL/life

"Time vanished, we turned to stone.

The world retreated into fumes of swampland.

And the past is without reference to our identity.

Why in my right to the assured presence I'm thrown aback.

Towards what has never been my deed.

Towards what has never been in my power or in my freedom.

Towards a past that denies my right to the present.

And has never come into memory."

Our collective memory of an immemorial past imposes the division between the north and south, between me and "the other" between rationality and irrationality. Do we not recognize the trap? History is too full of failed Prometheans bathing their wounded spirit in the tragic stream. Summoning history to our aid? But more than history, kindred knowledge, kindred findings, kindred rebellions against the lure of terror; for rage is no longer enough to combat the temptation to subside into unproductive, will-sapping wisdoms.

There are levels of despair from which the human spirit cannot recover, some types of suffering are difficult to explain and difficult for others to understand, the trauma that comes with the memory of our proper amnesia comes with an incomprehensible terror. These persisting events that fabricates time and the other, has made violence "a way of thinking" and an instinct to survive.

Human advancement in the frame of the modern world, is debased by tragedy and violence in many layers. The modern man is very much conditioned by opportunism and greed, quest for power and ambition. Leading to a state of social dysfunction where there is no more society, but a bunch of individual people, poised between solitude and amnesia, making individual choices to promote their individual well being.

The contradictions and tragedy that exists in our collective histories, has made it impossible to represent the other with certitude. There is nothing of which we are more certain than the feeling of our selves, our mortality and ego, an ego that seems to maintain a clear and sharp lines of demarcation between the forces of good and bad, until it eats deeply inwards, without any sharp delimitation.

...but the duty of hope is to turn around and heal the world. The mystical significance of today however, is that it constantly provides us with blank pages, in which we shall inscribe our destiny in our own hand writings. The path towards the pure future is to find ways to reintegrate these pairs of contradictions, into an expanded vision of a social experience that is both the same and different, whole and complex.

"STILL/life" is almost paradoxical and against all odds, its non-literal translation into French of "nature morte" that rather places accent on death, seems to be saying the opposite. “STILL/life” is in motion, a tale of the rise and fall of a man, an attempt to conciliation and acceptance of our extremes, an invitation to shed tears with a spark of hope, that coming generations might eventually learn equity from poverty, love from woes and peace from calamities.

We begin this work with the utopia of simultaneously making visible the head and the tail of the same coin at the same time, show the rear of that which is presented in a frontal manner, above all, confront our self-contradictions and oppositions, reflecting on the schizophrenia of the world we live in, and using pure energy as fuel for this first stage of creation.

Choreography . Qudus Onikeku & Damien Jalet

Original idea and performed by . Qudus Onikeku

Live Music . Charles Amblard

Costume et Accessories . Alexandra Leyre Mein.

contact : info@ykprojects.com - www.ykprojects.com

RSA Animate - First as Tragedy, Then as Farce

Somersaulting into DISTANCE

INTERVIEW: BRIGITTE WILFING / MICHAEL-FRANZ WOELS

http://foruml.at/zoll

zoll+ is the Austrian Magazine of Landscape and Open Space. It is a platform for constructive discussion of planning topics with focus on urban and rural landscapes.

Each issue features a special section devoted to a topic of particular relevance, which is discussed in various perspectives. The scope of interpretation is intended; it is an expression of diversity within the profession.

Dancing consists of motion and stillness, figures and measures, rage and tenderness, poetry and sculptures, painting and stories, politeness and politics, vigour and fragility, beauty and ugliness, birth and death, and to be frank, what else do we call life? So dancing – as a significant part of life – can be a way of understanding life in its wholeness.

Qudus Onikeku

Would you call dance the purest expression of human creativity?

No. I think that will be too arrogant, when we say pure, we are talking about what is honest, naive, unadulterated and manifests itself with certain confidence of innocence, and we basically see that in the way kids express themselves. We as dancers often tend to say that a child’s first true expression is dance or movement, but I don’t think so, I know some kids first expressed themselves in drawing or excessive chattering for example. The simple act of destroying things, or merely tearing off papers and destroying their toys are for me pure acts of expression in themselves, only if we the adults around could have the patience to listen. From what I could remember in my childhood, it was through a somersault that I first realised my creative energy. For me, I think the need for expression is a basic need and it is like a trance, it usually come in obscure forms that when it eventually finds it way out, you won’t bother to care about the form, but what is being said.

Has practicing acrobatics and dance changed your perception of space?

Very much. But I don’t know if they had changed my perception of space or they are actually the foundations for such realisation. You must know that I started acrobatics at the age of five, when I saw a random person did it in real-time, not that I never saw it in the television, during Olympics I saw even more spectacular ones, but seeing someone who could probably be me – in my own space of truth – doing it, was a revelation and that’s how I began acrobatics on my own. As I didn’t see any other figure, I thought the only thing that existed was a backflip, so I began to accumulate, going as much as 60 flips in a row, which arguably gave a sense of improvement. I got to a point where I myself didn’t know my limit, the only constraint I had was whatever obstacle limiting my space. It made me realised that there is no space, if there is no obstacle, and it is the existence of two separate obstacles that gives an idea of distance. Just as architects say, they don’t occupy spaces, they create spaces.

And performance have also given me another view of space, which differs from the concept of a place, that we might not necessarily be in the same place but can occupy the same space. This has to do with my adoption of the term “African world” i.e. a psychological space, inhabited by those who find it useful and comfortable, and are usually connected based on their common narratives, aspirations and affiliations. Not necessarily having a bloodline or common skin flags. This is very much opposed to “Africa” as a black place in the world map, sitting flat on its black ass, with a lot of histories and prejudices. Once seen as a den of savages, infested with superstitions and fanaticism, destined to be despised and cursed by God Himself. I am afraid; the stories of this “place” had been so told with a distant gaze and understood from a convenient angle, that it’s meaning no longer embody its humanity.

Has traveling changed your dance and writing style?

It has. In fact it is the only thing within which I have grown my art, I became an artist within the borders of different cultures and languages, I have been fed with various books and artists, some in their original languages, and others translated. So to a large extent, travelling has been a means of liberation and a way to escape the burden of fixed ideas and fixed identities. I think learning is embedded in encounters, while knowledge is scattered in space and within a time-frame. The experiences that come with travelling are unconditional experiences; I try to experience them without finding a worldly logic to them, nor discriminate, whether they are good or bad for me. If there is a dance or a culture that fascinates me in Brazil, I will like to learn it, know its history, I’ll like to see how it can nourish my ideas. And for my writing, it is exactly what pushed me into writing in the first place, most of my writings are informed by my experiences, by my thoughts which are usually in line, either with the state of my mind or the space in which I find myself.

What are the implications of nomadism?

What do you mean by “implication”? That word has a lot of implications. We are Indeed in the age of hybridity and mixing, technology and popular culture; we are all facebooking and twitting on top of one another, we all share information on YouTube and MySpace. It is a nomadic era, a time when fixed identities and boundaries lose their meaning and everything is in flux. I know all of these might be seen as madness in certain logic, but the nomadic principle in my own case translates into action, into a desire to depart, it is an opportunity to discover new environments and inscribe my creative process in a setting that I do not fully understand. So I try to make sure that what is at stake in my nomadism, is not simply taking part in acts that finds its most impoverished expression in tourism. I hope I’m not participating in the homogenization of all countries and simply roaming the world with the aim of a hedonistic assimilation as many artists do these days. This constant call of elsewhere is rather a way to be jostled and dislocated.

In what sense are you denoting your blog a diary? Can private go public?

When I call my blog a diary, I mean not a personal organiser where I write about my appointments and rendezvous, or how many times I had sex last week. However, I think if I have a blog space where I write about random things in a chronological way, that it keeps record and marks time – or history if you like – that it becomes a memoir in the future. For me I think it’s a diary.

And whether private can go public. Well it depends on what we understand as private. Writing a chronicle of a tour for example, and then sharing it on my blog for example, I don’t think that’s private. Having the courage to write out my thoughts on certain issues that either irritates me or inconveniences me, might simply be a way to give courage to some random persons who might suddenly have the guts to do certain things, after reading my blog, because they eventually realise that they are not alone. I think, maybe sometimes we make confusions between what is private and what is intimate. With the new media, information has become more and more democratic, that the idea of privacy is so vague. You don’t have to be a hacker to get a lot of information.

To what extend does your blog also display a media of communication to your home country and the possibility to keep your family informed about your activities, your life?

Being away from home for such a long time might make one forget the difference between familial love and the love we build and share with people. When I post a video or post a note and I see one of my family members comment on it, it usually comes with a lot of emotion and memory. When I started my blog in 2006 – then it was still called DIARY OF A SCHIZOPHRENIC DANCER – it was a period when I felt very disconnected from my surrounding, then I just got into the circus arts school in Chalons en champagne. France. I felt very far away from this culture and most times felt alone, that solitude led to kind of schizophrenia, those who were closer to me, seemed very far from my reality, while the ones far away were the ones that I felt closer to. It was as if the new media was just meant for me, it was very useful in many ways. Through my blog and my facebook page I have made a lot of connections with Nigeria, I have been nominated for different awards and I have gotten lots of recognition, even if I rarely show my work physically in Nigeria.

Is your work political? What’s your strategy?

I cannot say my work is political per-se and I cannot say otherwise based on popular definition. Let’s ask ourselves, for an artiste what does political mean? It means to be opinionated, it means to be concerned with the status quo, concerned with the human condition, and it means to be conscious. If these words are part of what being political means, then of course I am. But if it means wikileaks or dancing to some revolutionary songs, hmm I don’t think that’s my realm. I have often repeated myself that I am an artiste; I’m not an activist.

I think it is important to understand the society, the environment in which one lives, and in that very process of understanding, break away from it. However, just as our parents are frightened by such arrogance of us attempting to be total individuals, so the governments are frightened by us willing to break away from the society, because they want us to remain safely within the prison of environmental and national and religious and cultural influences, but it is only the individuals who break through the social pattern by understanding it, that will not be bound by the norm, and will eventually be liberated and become creative. It is only such people who can bring about a new civilisation

Being political means you are reacting within the prison, it is not an unbiased action; you resist one particular pattern because another shapes you. The realm I anticipate is not to lie within the prison, but rather in understanding the prison and breaking through its wall – and that very movement through freedom creates art and creates a new culture. So in that sense you can say my work is political or even radical, controversial, rebellious or provocative, but one thing that I am very sure of is that I’m naturally indocile, I don’t conform.

How important is theoretical research for your work?

It is very important for me to understand my work in theory, I try as much as possible to write about it before it is done, rewrite on it after it’s done, I read loads of materials, be it articles, books or essay that relates to my subject matter. I spend hours and hours on YouTube and sites like TED or RSA to see what has been said about such subject. I don’t think my opinions are personal, and I think such “collaborations” with what already exist give a clearer image to my intuition.

One thing that is clear is that I separate my thematic from the artistic investigation, the artistic research is something that is always ongoing, when I finish one piece, it continues in the next piece, while the themes might have nothing in similarity, like in my last piece I was exploring questions of exile, belonging and non-belonging, while in the next I’m dealing with violence and schizophrenia as a metaphor for our civilisation. However, the artistic research is a continuation of what I tried to do in my last piece and perhaps wasn’t able to get to its end. So my artistic research is a continuous one that informs the kinds of book I unconsciously collect and read, while the theme leads to the kind of books I read just for a particular production.

What can you say about the communication between your writing and the creation of artwork? Do you see similarities of these art forms in terms of its compositional structure, emotional content or rhythm and (how) are you transferring the knowledge of one medium into the other?

I think it’s all one, structures, rhythm, forms and necessary beauty. This is all I try to accomplish in both my dance and my writing, it’s not just about meaning, it’s about my encounter with my audience or reader. A journalist once said, "Qudus' work has a social dimension, it is a story that seems to have links with the artist's own life, in this sense, the work resonates as an essay in first person." And I think he is very correct. Writing has helped me a lot in finding a dramaturgic logic to choreography, from the first paragraph of a piece, your reader must already have an idea of your direction and the emotional content, then there is the body, then we see your argument, then we see your proposition if you so wish, then we see your conclusion. This is precisely what I do with my dance pieces. When I begin to write, I don’t usually have a predetermined number of words I want to work with, that’s why I find it hard to say how long my dance piece will be when I have not created it.

In a way my writing makes me understand my piece better, especially it’s argument. And at the same time, it is my knowledge of dance that largely supported my writing at the beginning; it gave me a powerful faculty for description and timing. As a dancer it is important to understand stillness as distinguished from silence or nothingness. These things don’t usually come to us in words, we experience them, but merging the practice of a writer and a dancer together makes it incredibly interesting when you are able to explain a situation or an inner feeling or thoughts in words.

Do you use an external eye during the creation process, how important is the process compared to the product of your performance / text work?

Yes, I do in a way or the other, even if I don’t invite someone officially to be my external eye, it might be my musician, it might be the video artist, or the photographer. Most times I like feedbacks, especially when it is a solo piece in which I’m choreographing and also dancing it. The same goes to my writing, I have few trusted friends with whom I share my texts while writing it, especially my fiancée.

I think the process of creating is the most important part in the lifespan of a piece of art, if I have my way I will spend my entire life in the studio, it is during the creative process that we grow, that we are very sensitive, and very open to rediscover new defiant paths in us. And I cans say the same of writing, it is the process of writing that you realise that since the last time you wrote, you have improved, you have restructured your views on certain issues, you have seen what you got wrong in the previous writing. I don’t like the idea of seeing a piece as the end product of a period of creation, No, it is in fact the remains, it is an evidence of that transformation, it is what opens up further spaces for critical dialogue. This doesn’t mean that I’m oppose to the popular saying, that a piece is not finished until it is shared with the audience, but can we ever finish a piece?

Do you also use spoken word in your performances? If yes, how is your movement related to the text?

Yes, I find the use of texts quite significant in performances, if it’s not text then it will be symbols, if not, it will be signs or images or sounds. Through the history of dance, we have come to agree that dance can stand alone as an art form. There is no doubt about its strong poetic prowess and its emotive capacity, that through one movement we can say a lot. However, the world we live in now is not one that is so sympathetic with poetry or some high forms of expressions that can mean everything, instead we are bombarded with some catchy phrases on billboards and the banalisation of violent images on news. Fashion magazines sells more and influences us faster than the book of Nietzsche, we can easily recognise the logo of Coca-Cola and Mc Donald’s even when they are not written clearly, but who still cares about Newton or Nijinsky?

During my creative process, I know that it is very easy to quickly lock myself in the utopia I build around myself in the studio. So I have learnt to step out of my studio and step into the real world from time to time, because the feeling of interaction still seems to me, very important. Not the kind of interaction that is embedded on a conversational style though, let's say, it is a revelation of words left unreconstructed in the subconscious of my audience. I have a need to create a common space for our collective human experience. My dance has been dedicated to finding ways of expressing some very deeply rooted expressions, which literary words had failed to capture in conventional styles. So is my movements related to the imagery I paint with this external elements I bring in? I don’t think so, but it seems to me that I try to find means of enforcing my expression through different media and find parallels for them, without necessarily reconciling between them.

Dancing also means writing into space and constructing a world through movements. How important is the awareness of the needs each space, country and continent provokes for your artistic interaction?

There is something I find very noteworthy in our imagination of the world, our mind is very complex and its capacity is almost time without end, we can go as broad as we want and be very well understood in that very capacity, and amazingly we can also come back to its contrary. Be as simple as possible, be as basic as possible, yet we can still be understood and this is part of the beauty of what we call life isn’t it? If I do understand your question well, I think I have decided to focus my attention on my own basic need, rather than the need of a certain space, nation or continent in my artistic concerns. I am very much aware of all the elements that come together to make up my identities, and I regard them as equally without necessarily paying heed to their needs, because their needs are not necessarily my basic human need. Therefore, I am very much wary of the obsessive leeway that often comes with the needs provoked by these various notions of belonging.

How does architectural space and social context influence your work?

Until now I don’t think I pay much attention to architecture, I know a lot of friends who are very good at making that link, and I do admire it in their works, but I’d simply call it “space” I think I am also doing what architects are doing, only that mine is not fixed is space, so in a way I’m creating spaces; democratic spaces built on empathy. I have not been able to characterize my non-conventional space performances in relation to architecture, maybe it’s because I pay too much attention to its social context and my argument with it. And the term influence is usually a strong term for me, I can’t really say these things influence my work, instead it is my work that influences the space and I predetermine the social context I give to it.

Are you interested in creating a reactive space, a dialogue with the audience? If yes, what are your methods?

In fact my performances are all embedded on interaction and cohabitation. Because a piece of art is always a proposition, it is another opportunity to grow and discover new sinister byways, and it has to be confronted with other kinds of mind in order to pass the test of time. I am not always comfortable to dialogue with the audience after a show because they usually come with a lot of complaisance that it becomes quite difficult to have a deeper conversation. However, what I usually do is that, during the creative process, I organise series of open door rehearsals and conversations around the proposition, in a form of an encounter with the audience, I try to create a bond with them, so they can follow how it progresses and observe how it is being constructed, just like a piece of architecture in the community, I make them a part of the creative process, because at the end, they will eventually be an integral part of the outcome of the piece.

Is there a different perception of your pieces in Europe and Africa? Are you adapting your pieces for audience in different continents?

I think it is quite normal that there is a different perception of my piece in Europe, in Africa, in America or Latin America. People have different narratives, it might be common based on their common narratives, but as we move farther in space we begin to perceive things differently, and we travelling artistes also perceive the differences that exists in distance. Now, do I adapt my piece for different audience? NO, I don’t, but I might adapt its discourse or the imagery I use in contextualising my intention during conversations that precedes the performance. I never adapt the artistic proposition; even in some cases I refuse to subtitle certain texts.

As a dancer, I am working with my body most times – and my body is very tangible, despite its historical baggage – I am not working on artificial constructs, based on political boundaries, racial confines, economic or cultural margins. I’m interested in going back in time, going to the root of all expressions, going back to the basics to rediscover what I refer to as “true movement”. My body memory could remember a time when human beings communicated humanly with gestural expressions without constructed words or coded languages and they understand one another better in that regard, because they paid better attention without the illusion of thinking they comprehend each other perfectly.

With all the events that have happened in strains of our lives, we often break some extraordinary happenings down in words for easier consumption and understanding without toil. In that same sense, if we put so much effort in trying to explain art or putting it in a very logical perspective, we tend to lose the essence and often deny us the holistic sense of certain emotions and feelings. Through dance I try to recapture that essential aspect of communication because I realise that our body memory tends to be vanishing through our sophistication, and what I try to do in my performance is to bring back that sensitivity, that everyone watching me can relate to that, even if they don’t understand what I am saying right now or what the piece is about.

Does it make sense to use the same contextualisation, picture language and association in Africa as well as in Europe or do you feel a different understanding of art and also requirement of the audience?

To start with, am I showing my works solely in Africa and Europe? NO. And even if I do, Africa, just like Europe is merely a place that is part of the world and hence part of the human-sphere. So the question we need ask ourselves is; can I be talking to my immediate neighbour in Cotonou and be aware of the fact that I might as well be talking to someone in Iceland? We need to understand that now, like never before do people have so much in common, same MTV, same CNN, same Kebabs, same Sushi, same Coca Cola, same Total Oil, same TEDtalk, same YouTube, same Google, same Suzuki, same iPhone. And the list goes on and on. So what other picture languages do I need that the reality out there has not made available for all to understand?

I don’t think art in any form is closed ended, it is only the sentiment that we attach to them that are most times closed minded, that art begin to mean something else in our will to turn art into a special capsule that cures certain illness or morality. I’m not saying that I’m not also guilty of this, but it is still the equivocal features of art that makes it possible for me to make it responsive to a circumstance, and I feel as equally liberated to use it for another, but we must be clear that we are not talking about art itself, we are talking about the many lies we’ve created around ourselves and badly needed to be solved. So in essence we are only talking about the utilitarian aspect of art when we talk about contextualisation.

You are living in Paris. Do you know the work of Xavier le Roy or Jerome Bel? How do you perceive this conceptional dance pieces?

I only know them by name I don’t know their works.

Do you consider yourself a city person?

Unfortunately I am a city person, I was born and grew up in a very big city, even though I try so often to run away from its monstrosity, yet I realise that I still have a lot to learn from it.

Which books influenced your work on stage?

I can’t say precisely, I know that I have read a lot of books and they’ve all in one way or the other fed me as a person, and it is my person that then influence my work a lot as an artiste. Like I said, I use certain books based on certain projects I’m working on, but in general I connect with the writings of Wole Soyinka, perhaps art came to me in the same way it came to him based on our temperament and cultural affiliation I guess, he is a very close companion. But presently, the ideas of Amin Maalouf, Edward Said and some writings of Sigmund Freud I can really relate to.

To which philosophers do you feel connected and are you referring in your artwork?

I think I have a very personal opinion about talks on influences and references, I don’t pay so much attentions to them, only when I write, I hear echoes of certain writers I have read long ago or recently, and I don’t mind to write it the way they come to me, even if it was the exact phrase, so I might eventually feel connected to them but I usually don’t refer to them, because I don’t see the need, and in the same way I think my own work will resonate in other people’s works or for the coming generation that find it useful.

I think the human mind works in an unprocessed manner, the memory of all our little experiences, the things we’ve read in books or observed in the world around us – all of these our mind observes, it discerns, it learns, it is the mind that cultivate virtues, that communicate ideas, that has desires and fears, and that’s also what we at the end refer to as consciousness. The coming generation will always use the shoulders of the past generation as a stepladder to climb taller and I think it is just natural for that creative commons to happen without anyone claiming to posses that or dwelling on recognition or its copyright.

In one of your poems you wrote:

If I were the King

I’ll close more hospitals

To build more Theatres

People get more healed there anyway.

Please, tell me about this concept that theatre can heal....

Oh that’s such a long time, hahaha. Maybe what I meant at that time was that sick people get cured in the hospital, but the people we consider “normal” also get cured in the theatre. And if we look at the statistic we see that more theatres are required than hospital. I must have been referring to Africa in that poem hahaha, because that’s where people still believe that development is when you build more blocks and wide roads, while the genuine human development suffers at the expense of our quest to catch up with Europe, but I ask myself if this aspects of development is really what makes us happy, why are we still sad in Europe? I can’t remember precisely the context within which I wrote it, but I think it’s close to this.

Does ritual have an importance for your work?

Well it depends on what you refer to as “Ritual” if you are talking about some procession, which calls for the beheading of a cow, and its blood serving as wine or its skin used for clothing purposes, then I think that’s what we do with animals. If it is in that sense, it sure does, because I’m quite concerned about that cow. And on the other hand, if you are talking of something transcendental, that deals with truth and something fundamentally in connection with the earth and all that dwell therein, the sky, and very conscious of space and time. Something that has a soul, spiritual yet profane. I think all these have an importance in my work.

Do you have a wish, an aim for the future?

I only wish that the ideas I send into the world will resonate and have some impact in its little capacity. I don’t have any specific aim for the future, one step at a time; I am still trying to deal with the present and my actions today will surely pave the way for my tomorrow.