The summer is over. The heat is gone. Gunilla, this is specially for you as you were complaining that you can’t read my “Randnotizen”. So I’m gonna write this with my most mediocre European English. For those who know it better I ask for forgiveness…

The summer is over – mine was structured by existencial moments. Four weddings and three funerals.  - Tears at all occasions.

And now while the temperature announces autumn you can feel an increasing heat coming from inside, stronger day by day, with already licking flames. The heat comes with this increasing speed. Everyone around you, everyone in the team feels this increasing temperature and – paradox to that – this huge wave of events, of artists, of hello’s and farewells coming. I always loved these thrilling weeks of last preparations, of rehearsals with still open ends, of collective concrete dreaming what might happen, of how we could even better reach out to the unknown, to the audience. And at the same time I always get melancholic already knowing that everything we create will last for a short moment, for some hours, for some days, weeks, for one festival. This is the fucked up part with performance art.
It is all about the time we share. The moments we are together in one place. Being part of something and yet looking at it with very different eyes and minds. Being a collective and still individual. Representing society and knowing that we are somehow at the edge, somewhere, but definitely not the middle. Not the target, not the ones who rule.

Gunilla is rehearsing – I met her some days ago in the first chilly late-summer-night. Sitting together with her team – all familiar, all close. All in the good tension of knowing that now they all can still fool around on stage until the moment when we all have and want to share. Good luck and break a leg! CU!