ITALIA RUSSIA 2011

An Italian–Russian choreographic project (2011)

Within the framework of the activities supported by the Italian and Russian governments for the 2011 Year of Italian–Russian Cultural Dialogue, Zerogrammi transferred its artistic work to Russia for one month, settling in the town of Kostroma. Here, the company met Dialogue Dance, with whom it began the creation of Punto di Fuga (Point of Flight).

This choreography for four choreographers/performers represents the first step of a broader project inspired by Seneca’s tragedy Thyestes, whose second and final chapter is Pasto a Due (Meal for Two).

The project calendar began with a choreographic residency at Stantsia Art Venue between January and February 2011, followed by:

the Russian preview of the work (12–13 February 2011, Kostroma),

the Italian premiere (Festival Teatro a Corte, July 2011),

and the Russian debut (Festival Tsekh, December 2011).

Punto di Fuga received three nominations—Best Choreographers, Best Creation, and Best Lighting Design—at the prestigious Golden Mask Awards, the Russian theatre prize awarded biennially at the Bolshoi Theatre to the best productions presented in the country.

The entire project was realised with the support of Fondazione Teatro Piemonte Europa, Festival Teatro a Corte, Festival Tsekh, the Ministry of Culture of the Russian Federation, and MiBAC.

DIARY OF A CHOREOGRAPHIC RESIDENCY

Italy–Russia Cultural Exchange Year 2011

(edited by Stefano Mazzotta)

We are on an almost empty train, scattered through the night. The compartment, dimly lit by Art Nouveau lamps, smells of damp wool. The window is framed by pale floral drapes with a faint 1960s aftertaste. I have the clear sensation of not being in Italy.

A glass cup held in an ornate metal holder, filled with steaming black tea, brings to mind tales of austere eastern rulers and fascinating gypsy princesses—nothing remotely similar to our modern Eurostar trains. Beyond the three layers of worn fabric, once precious, beyond the fogged-up windows, there is a blinding white light that fears neither night nor darkness, making the landscape feel even more immense, empty, yet strangely reassuring. Snow. Everywhere.

Only yesterday, in Piazza Solferino in Turin, we were sitting around a table discussing possibilities, collaboration, a shared project connected to 2011—the Year of Italian–Russian Cultural Dialogue. And yet here I am, already on the slow Moscow–Kostroma train. A night-long journey for 300 kilometres, honouring every small, forgotten station scattered across the steppe.

So they really meant it. Said and done. I am surprised, perhaps out of habit: Italy usually moves at more “reflective” speeds.

How many degrees below zero will it be outside? We will soon find out on our own skin—laughing at the novel sensation of icicles forming in our nostrils, fingers turning purple after bravely smoking without gloves, and the priceless relief of holy radiators in public spaces and hotel rooms (the efficient and ubiquitous Russian gas pipeline!).

Stepping off the train, dressed in outfits that vaguely resemble Totò and Peppino in Piazza Duomo, we meet Ivan and Evgeny, our local hosts and collaborators for the coming month. Together, we will compose the choreographic project that led us to cross the Alps and reach, through the endless steppe and with no shortage of exhilarating question marks, the land of sauerkraut and vodka.

It will be a month of clashes and confrontations—as is inevitable when facing the challenge of dialogue between cultures. There is fear in the possibility of losing something along the way, of having to give something up in the encounter, of being scratched, bent by debate, of becoming a little less “us” in order to understand the “others” a little more. Yet this is precisely the first precious step toward the attention that any true encounter with the new requires.

What awaits us are killer ice sheets at every doorway, long discussions about what to do, the frozen romantic bed of the Volga, divergent choreographic visions, photo shoots with frozen lenses and purple fingers, days of exhaustion and discouragement, days of agreement and lightness, the distant support of emails from Mara and Paolo, countless Italian-style coffees, double and triple socks, gloves and scarves, an emotional Russian debut, a gratifying photographic exhibition—and, above all, the invaluable opportunity to embark on a new journey of discovery.

Today, back in temperate Turin, the value of that journey reveals itself in full: a unique artistic and human experience, rich in struggle and intensity, in passion and conviction, in doubt and questions that challenge the very act of creation; in the pride of carrying a piece of Italy beyond its borders, and in the wonder of feeling, at least a little, borderless.