THE LOVE BOAT, a site-specific performance, 14.08.2021 from 18:30

Reichen-Hof, Berlin Kreuzberg

OPEN WINDOWS DAY/ TAG DER OFFENEN FENSTER

AB 18:30 PERFORMANCE ART BLOCK

Collective creation under the artistic direction of Rita Ferreira / Kollektive Kreation unter der künstlerischen Leitung von Rita Ferreira

Set Design / Bühne Luís Gabriel und Daniel & Co.

With / Es spielen Sabine Böhm, Katharina Försch und Hans-Jürgen Simon

(special guest Sonia Ruiz Bastida)

Music / Musik Hans-Jürgen Simon

Texts / Verwendete Texte „Noahs Arche“ von Mose, Die Bibel; Wir haben solche Angst vor dem Tod, 2021, von Cláudio da Silva (Temos Tanto Medo de Morrer / We Are So Afraid of Dying)

Dramaturgical Assistence / Dramaturgische Assistenz von Sabine Böhm

Technik Luís Gabriel

Imagino que o dilúvio tenha chegado à noite. Temos tanto medo começou a aparecer numa manhã. Uma manhã de confinamento mas... em viagem. Na noite anterior, eu (sou actor de profissão) tinha apresentado um espectáculo a partir do texto de Primo Levi, Se Isto É Um Homem. Eu, instalado num lugar da carruagem do comboio Faro-Lisboa, de máscara e, como todos os passageiros, pareceu-me na altura, olhando o que me rodeava com uma certa presunção. Eu, dizia, comecei a escrevê-lo num tablet. Pela primeira vez. Fazia-o mergulhado numa mistura de coragem, desconfiança sobre as notícias do mundo e esperança de que tudo iria terminar em breve e de que o pior já tinha passado. Era uma mistura que dava vontade de vomitar. Não de nojo mas de enjôo.

Mais tarde, disseram-nos que o pior já tinha passado. Depois, voltámos atrás. Depois, avançámos. Agora, na verdade, é difícil saber o que esperar. O que esperar do que vem aí. Depois do dilúvio. Talvez seja só medo. Um medo que pode engolir-nos e devorar-nos mais uma vez. A não ser... que continuemos a fazer o que temos de fazer e, no fundo, é tudo o que resta ao Pobre fazer.

I imagine the flood came at night. We are so afraid began to appear one morning. A morning of confinement but... on the go. The night before, I (I am an actor by profession) had performed a show from Primo Levi's text, If This Is A Man. Me, installed in a seat in the carriage of the Faro-Lisbon train, wearing a mask and, like all the passengers, it seemed to me at the time, looking at my surroundings with a certain smugness. I, like I was saying, started to write it on a tablet. For the first time. I did so immersed in a mixture of courage, distrust of the news of the world and hope that it would all be over soon and that the worst was over. It was a mixture that made me want to vomit. Not with disgust but with nausea.

Later, we were told that the worst was over. Then we went back. Then we moved on. Now, in truth, it's hard to know what to expect. What to expect from what's coming. After the flood. Maybe it's just fear. A fear that could swallow us up and devour us once more. Unless... we keep doing what we have to do, and in the end, that's all that's left for the Poor Man to do.

Ich vermute, dass die Flut in der Nacht kam. Wir haben solche Angst tauchte eines Morgens auf. An einem Morgen im Lockdown, aber... unterwegs. Am Abend zuvor hatte ich (ich bin Schauspieler von Beruf) eine Aufführung mit Primo Levis Text Wenn Das Ein Mensch Ist. Ich saß auf einem Sitz im Waggon des Zuges Faro-Lissabon, trug eine Maske und betrachtete, wie alle Fahrgäste, so schien es mir damals, meine Umgebung mit einer gewissen Selbstgefälligkeit. Ich habe, wie gesagt, angefangen, es auf ein Tablet zu schreiben. Zum ersten Mal. Ich tat dies in einer Mischung aus Mut, Misstrauen gegenüber den Nachrichten aus aller Welt und der Hoffnung, dass alles bald vorbei sein würde und das Schlimmste überstanden sei. Es war eine Mischung, die in mir den Wunsch weckte, mich zu übergeben. Nicht vor Abscheu, sondern vor Übelkeit.

Später wurde uns gesagt, dass das Schlimmste überstanden sei. Dann gingen wir zurück. Dann zogen wir weiter. Jetzt ist es in Wahrheit schwer zu wissen, was man erwarten kann. Was wir von dem, was kommt, erwarten können. Nach der Flut. Vielleicht ist es nur Angst. Eine Angst, die uns schlucken und erneut verschlingen könnte. Es sei denn... wir tun weiter, was wir tun müssen, und am Ende ist das alles, was dem Armenmann bleibt.

Cláudio da Silva