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Things have come full circle.
New conversations and audiences start to surface again…

Late summer, Phoenix Athens Gallery re emerges as a real space , and I receive an invitation from the curator Christina Makris to screen my  video piece ‘My Hybrid…’as part of ‘Art Instead’, an international showcase for the online artists who took part in the residency programme.

My work once again  feels nomadic.

I am  slipping through borders once again…this time limb my limb…responsive choreography within a hybrid space.

Instagram: @nicolezaaroura
@phoenixathens_gallery

 

 

 

 

 


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And so I travel to you in  Athens, from this ‘new space’…a room that I have slept in for the past 20 years.

I follow my own scattered instructions. A wall, scuffled domestic white.

I lock the door. It’s important. I have my phone to film, and two stools.
This hybrid space, within a hybrid space…like an envelope , a dislocation , a new game.

In isolation I still lock the door…
I stay with it…

 

In this white field

listen…

an outstretched hand.

Isolation.

Taught fingers

an elongated arm

our rolling distance

this is how we talk

mutating, twisting

intimate hybrid.

Slowly slowly

did I mention

that I am sitting across

from nothing?

I spell and dispel…

 

 


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a new invitation arrives…

previous residency plans for PhoenixAthens Gallery, Athens, suspended, shifted, maybe even buried…

In its place, an invitation to become the first Online Artist in Residence as part of the Art Instead programme, an Instagram takeover for three weeks .
A space I do not yet know how to respond to, navigate, or touch.
How to touch it? How do I connect. Some kind of long distance call? If I raise my voice will they hear me?

Will I walk through  sliding doors?

Tangled thoughts continue to push out through my body…shallow breath…

 


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Spring loaded…containing a compressed or stretched spring pressing one part against another…

Lockdown 2020.

I am resisting anything linear, for there is nothing linear about this time…

I have been thrown into a vortex, a hybrid life.

6 months on and I am still inhabiting that hybrid  space, imposed, invited, self inflicted…

Acts that were then questions, have embedded themselves as research, actions and tumbleweed…silent landscapes where the noise lies within the body…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Athens – movement notes  3/2/20

I leave (you) in the hotel room and descend through two floors of alternating light, to the street level. I begin to walk, connecting to ‘the flaneuse’ who I think must move slowly through the city, aimless, and travelling at a certain speed.

Testing movement I find I walk too quickly, so what does this make me? It is like I am continually on the run…

My speed seems more like the slight of hand in a magic trick. I slip through spaces. I rarely stop. I don’t want to be stopped. A contrast   to the ritualistic slow movement of the performance work. A different conversation.

More like a bee gathering nectar, I hover and dart. Nourishment comes later. There is an acuteness to my movement. my body taking signals from the surrounding momentum….listening  to the city, its music, cracks, its sounds as scent.  It’s alchemic nature.

Boundaries blur, gates and fences open and close. Hidden buildings, monumental stages and museum pathways  beckon me …

And in one of these,  an object stops me in my tracks. A first century glass perfume stirrer, suspended within  a glass case in the museum of Cycladic art.

That it is  glass takes me back. Its beauty and intimacy as a single object is arresting, but its function beguiles me too.  The delicate act it may call upon requires movements of  dipping, testing, stirring. Responsive and exploratory.  Something of this echoes in my processes too, questioning in recent days the sometime forensic aspects  of performative processes…a perfume stirred.

I return outside. My walk is slower now.   On a wide avenue, on an  island between lanes of the  traffic of Athens, I stop and stand still for five minutes. I listen, I taste the air, pollutants and all. I close my eyes.

This time I feel everything else move around me. Maybe I am a perfume stirrer…

 

 

 

 

 


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