RUIN PORN

2016

GALLERY

EXCERPT

FILM

They finally arrived.  They just landed into this room.  Four unwilling and undesired guests of ours.  Four, according to our way of counting – bodies. They are here, repeating gestures and movements, trying to dance themselves out of the situation, as if their bodies are magical formulas, elements of a technological apparatus which somehow, if they fit together in a particular way, can extract them from this miserable place, this ruin inside of which they are trapped. Yet, the machine is not working. Future is lost. Past is forgotten. Welcome to the theatre.
 
In the midst of industrial ruins, in the flow of our urban explorations, we let our imagination float, mixing our moving bodies with transient photographic impressions, shifting architectural sensations, science fiction narratives and sociological analysis. To think about ruins, is to place oneself out of time, to immerse in the impermanence of things. Ruin Porn is the trace of this collective mental trance, a singular vision of our era forever pre-apocalyptic.
 
Last act, the End, this is where we all came in. The final Apocalypse is when every man sees what he sees, feels what he feels, and hears what he hears. The creatures of all your dreams and nightmares are right here, right now, solid as they ever were or ever will be, electric vitality of careening subways faster faster faster stations flash by in a blur.
Pan God of Panic, whips screaming crowds, as millions of faces look up at the torn sky: OFF THE TRACK! OFF THE TRACK!
The planet is pulling loose from its moorings, careening into space, spilling cities and mountains and seas into the void, spinning faster and faster as days and nights flash by like subway stations, iron penis chimneys ejaculate blue sparks in a reek of ozone, tunnels crunch down teeth of concrete and steel, flattering cars like beers cans, grafitti eats through glass and steel like acid, races across the sky in tornados of flaming colors.
William Burroughs
Excerpt from Apocalypse
 

ARTICLE

By David Dibilio

The audience gets into an empty room and is blinded all at once by strobe lights pulsing through thick layers of smoke. The pictures impress your retinas and, between flashes, you gradually make out the four performers, huddled in a corner : four bodies in one, sheathed in flesh-like costumes. This hybrid organism develops short, repetitive spasms tuned to the outpourings of the violent music score.
You are entering a theater of war. It is indeed among ruins that Guillaume Marie’s fifth creation will take place. The ghostly survivors of an ongoing apocalypse (or has it already happened?), those bodies seem to be invoking a god who of course doesn’t exist with their ritual, urgent and ecstatic dancing. They seem to be looking for a way out but there isn’t any either. Locked in a jail of climactic lights and sounds, they might or might not escape and if they do, will it be out
of sheer luck or random oblivion ?

Then the stage blacks out. Sound shots evolve in obsessive, metallic keyboard loops. A peaceful light now envelops the performers and one of the four bodies breaks away and slowly walks toward the audience, staring into your eyes. Distraught, as if she wasn’t there, she sits down while behind her, the plural body makes love to itself. Two boys and one girl, she rubs herself against the first then the second, they stroke each other in a pansexual, polymorphous, strange and violent orgy.
White light. The four performers, still draped in a thick cloud of smoke now face the audience, their arms open, like mummies , bloodless, their makeup and some scars are visible now that their costumes have been ripped apart.

For his second creation, Nancy, in 2010, Guillaume Marie had chosen punk icon Sid Vicious’s girlfriend to debunk the myth of the tragic muse, putting together a show based on a relentless ascent toward bloody ecstasies. in 2011, in Asfixia, he staged the sexual tortures committed in the Abu Grahib jail in Iraq. Then with Edging, in 2013, he took his inspiration from the sexual practise of the same name consisting in postponing the moment of orgasm, edging on the border between pleasure and pain. This is when Guillaume Marie started to work with the Japanese noise musician KKNull. This collaboration was already breathtaking in Edging but it reaches an unprecedented dimension in Ruin Porn, the two artists coming together as one demiurge conjuring a world submerged in a chaos of sensations.
When Edging was based on the notion of voluntary confinement as the metaphor of man’s postmodern condition, Ruin Porn explores the outer edge. the apocalyptic perception of the world out there as a doomed space, right from the start and for ever, a landscape with no escape. For Ruin Porn, the choreographer makes visual references to dark tourism, this form of exploration which appropriates death and trivializes it through public exposure. One can think of people taking selfies in
Auschwitz or touring around Chernobyl. It is indeed in the darkest and deepest feelings haunting man’s soul that Guillaume Marie finds his inspiration. But beyond this « dark » trademark one can perceive in all his work, he also questions the position of the artist in the world. His own would be a rather nihilistic one, no, art won’t redeem the world and its destruction has already started. Those who like to think it will are wrong. Artists can at best come to term with it to produce material. Music, dance.
They can map out the confines of a traumatic space, the remnants of a breathless planet, ruins among which the best you can do is to dance.

David Dibilio, journalist, curator for Jerk Off Festival (Paris)

By Guillaume Marie, Igor Dobricic & Kazuyuki Kishino aka KK Null

a piece for 4 dancers and a musician

Conception, Choreography: Guillaume Marie

Conception, Dramaturgy: Igor Dobričić

Original Soundtrack: Kazuyuki Kishino aka KK Null

Created in collaboration with and performed by:

Els Deceukelier, Guillaume Marie, Roger Sala Reyner & Suet Wan Tsang.

Costume: Cédrick Debeuf

Make-up, FX effects: Rebecca Florès

Light Design: Abigail Fowler

Technical Director: Stéphane Monteiro

Graphic designer: Grégoire Gitton

booking:

Erwan Coëdelo

Production

TAZCORP/

Co-Productions

ménagerie de verre

Paris, le CND – un centre d’art pour la danse

CCN Roubaix / Ballet du Nord – accueil studio

Hostellerie de Pontempeyrat – accueil studio

Avec l’aide de la DRAC Île de France – Aide au projet et le DICREAM