Edy Quaggio: http://www.arcadiateatro.com/translators/5
Cornelia Volk: http://corneliavolk.blogspot.com/
Soraya Pérez: http://sorayayvonne.blogspot.com/
Friday, April 30, 2010
Interesting Facts On Syphilis
Who we are ...
Edy Quaggio: http://www.arcadiateatro.com/translators/5
Cornelia Volk: http://corneliavolk.blogspot.com/
Soraya Pérez: http://sorayayvonne.blogspot.com/
Edy Quaggio: http://www.arcadiateatro.com/translators/5
Cornelia Volk: http://corneliavolk.blogspot.com/
Soraya Pérez: http://sorayayvonne.blogspot.com/
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
A List Of Unblocked School Games
Dance, Theatre, Music, Poetry, Video, Painting
Soraya Pe rez - dancer and choreographer, teacher
Edy Quaggio - writer, musician and director
Cornelia Volk - au matrix and documentary filmmaker
In transit you try, you explore, you get lost, we meet and communicate a.
were asked if we are a transport company - we might even say yes: the van contains phrases such as brushes, cameras, lights, curtains, sounds, colors and applications.
work together some time and now we have choices even a common identity, a name that comes close to what we are and do. From art to another, from one place to another pass is movement.
Jobs compatible gnia:
Project 2011
Project Contemporary Triptych
Title: " Orama 47" solo
Concept, choreography and dance : Soraya Pérez
Directed and sound design: Edy Quaggio
Music: Edy Quaggio
Directed and sound design: Edy Quaggio
Music: Edy Quaggio
This project stems from my interest in the land of origin, which prompted me to investigate the cellular memory, the memory The written history skin , bones and buried in the ground, the tree of fertilized slag.
The body, its implicit drama and dance create the structure of the paintings visual "Orama 47"
The body, its implicit drama and dance create the structure of the paintings visual "Orama 47"
Soray to Pérez
" Search "(dance-theater duet)
Choreography and dance: Soraya Pérez
Concept, direction and Sound Design : Edy Quaggio
"Towards Flight" (duet dance)
Concept, choreography and Dance : Soraya Pérez
Director: Edy Quaggio
Music: Edy Quaggio
S eg ttacoli 2009
"Scattered PALP"
Score poetic dance
and Dance Choreography: Soraya Pérez
solo dance
Length: 15 min
Iced Director: Edy Quaggio
Length: 15 min
Iced Director: Edy Quaggio
Text of presentation:
The poetic word becomes a vehicle of the movement. The vibration of the body in search for newsletters and integrates plasma space and full of makes sense. The memory of the spoken text is actualized in gesture, leader in the voice of a live pr free continuous. The dance makes image, poetry visible, palpable thrill.
Edy Quaggio
" Kaleidoscope
Choreography and Dance: Soraya Pérez
solo dance
Text, Music, Direction and Sound Design: Edy Quaggio
Artistic collaboration: Cornelia Volk
rock song arrangement and execution : Robert Clauser
Movie length : 15 min
Text of presentation: 
I mages, sounds and reflections of consciousness to unravel a white screen in an attempt to reconstruct a sense, the senses. The shadow look after herself being born and reborn endless falls. The movement is real and dense, but suspended in a dream impalpable interwoven voices, noises, agreements and notes i. The poetic narrative is fragmented by the kaleidoscope of the mind that trembles and trembles in the same words that it generates.
" El Cuarto" (the room) - short version 2009
Solo Dance Theatre
and with: Soraya Pérez
Solo Dance Theatre
Solo Dance Theatre
New version of 15 min -2009
Music: Various kind
Director: Edy Quaggio
Music: Various kind
Director: Edy Quaggio
Text of presentation:
The woman drunk love enters the room of darkness populated
There is no tomorrow. The woman is sitting on the chair, mother, sister, diva-queen trap
sweet and inviting. The conflict of the soul with the body aspires to perfection scoring a path of change. The seal is love. The identity of the female and male talk to each other through a conflict of forces which give life to a character / archetype in its early stages of change and constant mobile ta.
Concept, choreography and dance : Soraya Pérez
Performance and live music: Regula Wagner_Idea Battery
Music by: Edy Quaggio, Regula and David Wagner Directed Fussi
and lights: Edy Quaggio
presentation text:
Soraya Pérez
"Fluctuations" (production 2008) 
Concept, choreography and dance : Soraya Pérez
Performance and live music: Regula Wagner_Idea Battery
Music by: Edy Quaggio, Regula and David Wagner Directed Fussi
and lights: Edy Quaggio
Blank, Development Zone of stages of change: to be a constantly evolving King, fragments of stories, passages through invisible doors into a space-time dream, open up parallel worlds. The body in its molecular composition and the model phrased sidereal movements, dynamics and magnetic force which are the wave of uniting r know in constant transformation. The cosmic history is written on the skin. The development of a circular and repetitive ecstatic dance manifests the essence and makes it tangible and vibrant.
Soraya Pérez
Koan of flux: "If you do not see anybody for three days, when rivedret can not be sure that it is the same person ...."
Monday, April 26, 2010
Kates Playgroundechter Name
subheadings Bell
click on the poster to enlarge
Reading Library Rome show Vallicelliana
audio editing video editing Gabriele Petrella
thank Bruno Conti curator of the correspondence A Journey Called Love, Letters 1916-1918, published by Feltrinelli present during a lecture-show in Rome for appreciating rehabilitation.
E Gabriel Millet Chaco Argentine biographer and scholar of Dino Campana. * (1)
quote here excerpts of the memoirs of Frederick Ravagli , man of his time with goliards of Campana in his youth transition to Bologna, where the first verses of Dino find refuge in the journal The Papyrus of Ravagli and companions. Fate has it that the love for this poet I did meet one of his daughters, Victoria Ravagli woman rare soul and beauty as rare and very much alive, thanks to her reading / performance takes on a tone and a different color. As if a thread bind
crossed our tribute to a great poet. The live wire of poetry and life of Bell.
Dale Zaccaria
Sub in Bell
I come to look for, Bell, it 'my memories.
And if I turn to you here, as before, as if you were still alive,
is because the memory needs to be in a special state of grace, needs a strong emotional stimulus to dispel the fog thickened over the years away a turbulent succession of events.
Listen, then. And do not blame me if after my return from Africa I did not want to see you.
M'avevan told you that he was alive only body and your spirit was shipwrecked, hopeless, dreary darkness of a stormy night tragic.
I have not had the courage to follow closely your martyrdom, as I was powerless to soccorerrerti. I would not watch a single moment epilogue your terrible experience: not to meditate too long in an absurd destiny that nailed shelter alienated a man like you, that I had room for land and ocean, hoping to boundless horizons.
We were left in Bologna, where they already began to take shape, clear signs, the success of your book: of those songs that we Orphic goliards we held a little on the sheets from our baptism scapigliatura, including songs and rhymes friendly of love.
And we should not see each other anymore.
Well, thirty years 'after your official entry into the life of the "bohemian" university, I wanted to collect some' memories. I came back in mind and the minds of our time away: at that time of my reckless youth and tumultuous, when you, a veteran who knows what mysterious rugged adventures, you brought with us, with your fee as a beggar, the spirit of your royal ocean views.
No one knew, then, to all those writers who then decreed t'han triumph. You were an unknown: it was a strange man and dreamy, a restless wanderer came to a stop along the road: you were an eccentric student of chemistry laboratory had chosen the world's roads. Certainly would not have ended your trip with an analysis of staff, you, accustomed to the transitions and vertiginous lyrical synthesis of vibrating cosmic fantasies.
But you stopped it with us.
(...) So you lived a little of our lives. We were Notes to our illusions, our worries, our antics. You were witness of a benevolent and unconcerned with sympathetic sequala rascality.
the tables in front of our instant meetings, browse, with superb aplomb, poets and philosophers, public figures and walkers. The criticism was often biting and biting. And you adattasti often to listen to arguments and invective, acts of faith and eulogies, the indulgent ramblings and cries.
And so, at night, for starde narrow, brown under the arches and severe, pei winding streets and conducive to tighten the secret of our bizarre excesses. And you still with us docile meek quiet.
you went "with a little singing with a lot of wine." And we were singing for you. Sometimes lingered suddenly stop for a while, we followed at a distance, to be alone. Who knows? Maybe you went meditating, in your silence, textures, art and poetry. Under the arcades of the architectural ocheggianti venerable age, within the halls of hospitality sensual numbed wits fat ones, in games of shadow and light, plastic living creatures and things, you certainly saw that escaped our attention: you listened agreements, dissonances sound alerts that we could not reach us. Many pages of 'Your songs are born from this wandering Orphic
(...) But you were a rebel to the laws of a quiet life, to the customs of the people bucket, the wise counsel of wise people. You were homeless because followed a shocking your dream of infinity. You were a stateless person, because the poetry of which he was desperately in quest of a national world: you, for the world to bring the "scale of the working poor Italian ... do not know." Your legend is here. And some saran these simple memories of our time away to shed some light on the desperate drama of your adventure.
Legend is mystery and poetry and the mystery of your life was poetry.
Federico Ravagli , Dino Campana and university boys of his time (1911 -1914) Autographs and documents. Confessions and memories - Bologna: Clueb 2002.
* (1) Bruno Conti
Gabriel Chaco Millet In the dedication of Dino Campana to Sibilla copy of the Orphic chants Bell wrote in his own hand four lyrics (...) also appear throughout the text corrections and cessature. For a critical analysis of this copy dedicated all'Aleramo cf. D. Bell, a Souvenir d'pendu, edited by G. Cacho Millet, Oxford University Italian, Naples 1985, p. 193. Facsimile reproduction of the copy is in G. Cacho Millet, Dino Campana outlaws, Novecento, Palermo 1985, Appendix iconography, from n.39 to n.49. See Sibilla Dino Campana A Journey Called Love Letters 1916 -1918 by Bruno Conti, Feltrinelli 2002 (eighth edition)
click on the poster to enlarge
Reading Library Rome show Vallicelliana
audio editing video editing Gabriele Petrella
thank Bruno Conti curator of the correspondence A Journey Called Love, Letters 1916-1918, published by Feltrinelli present during a lecture-show in Rome for appreciating rehabilitation.
E Gabriel Millet Chaco Argentine biographer and scholar of Dino Campana. * (1)
quote here excerpts of the memoirs of Frederick Ravagli , man of his time with goliards of Campana in his youth transition to Bologna, where the first verses of Dino find refuge in the journal The Papyrus of Ravagli and companions. Fate has it that the love for this poet I did meet one of his daughters, Victoria Ravagli woman rare soul and beauty as rare and very much alive, thanks to her reading / performance takes on a tone and a different color. As if a thread bind
crossed our tribute to a great poet. The live wire of poetry and life of Bell.
Dale Zaccaria
Sub in Bell
I come to look for, Bell, it 'my memories.
And if I turn to you here, as before, as if you were still alive,
is because the memory needs to be in a special state of grace, needs a strong emotional stimulus to dispel the fog thickened over the years away a turbulent succession of events.
Listen, then. And do not blame me if after my return from Africa I did not want to see you.
M'avevan told you that he was alive only body and your spirit was shipwrecked, hopeless, dreary darkness of a stormy night tragic.
I have not had the courage to follow closely your martyrdom, as I was powerless to soccorerrerti. I would not watch a single moment epilogue your terrible experience: not to meditate too long in an absurd destiny that nailed shelter alienated a man like you, that I had room for land and ocean, hoping to boundless horizons.
We were left in Bologna, where they already began to take shape, clear signs, the success of your book: of those songs that we Orphic goliards we held a little on the sheets from our baptism scapigliatura, including songs and rhymes friendly of love.
And we should not see each other anymore.
Well, thirty years 'after your official entry into the life of the "bohemian" university, I wanted to collect some' memories. I came back in mind and the minds of our time away: at that time of my reckless youth and tumultuous, when you, a veteran who knows what mysterious rugged adventures, you brought with us, with your fee as a beggar, the spirit of your royal ocean views.
No one knew, then, to all those writers who then decreed t'han triumph. You were an unknown: it was a strange man and dreamy, a restless wanderer came to a stop along the road: you were an eccentric student of chemistry laboratory had chosen the world's roads. Certainly would not have ended your trip with an analysis of staff, you, accustomed to the transitions and vertiginous lyrical synthesis of vibrating cosmic fantasies.
But you stopped it with us.
(...) So you lived a little of our lives. We were Notes to our illusions, our worries, our antics. You were witness of a benevolent and unconcerned with sympathetic sequala rascality.
the tables in front of our instant meetings, browse, with superb aplomb, poets and philosophers, public figures and walkers. The criticism was often biting and biting. And you adattasti often to listen to arguments and invective, acts of faith and eulogies, the indulgent ramblings and cries.
And so, at night, for starde narrow, brown under the arches and severe, pei winding streets and conducive to tighten the secret of our bizarre excesses. And you still with us docile meek quiet.
you went "with a little singing with a lot of wine." And we were singing for you. Sometimes lingered suddenly stop for a while, we followed at a distance, to be alone. Who knows? Maybe you went meditating, in your silence, textures, art and poetry. Under the arcades of the architectural ocheggianti venerable age, within the halls of hospitality sensual numbed wits fat ones, in games of shadow and light, plastic living creatures and things, you certainly saw that escaped our attention: you listened agreements, dissonances sound alerts that we could not reach us. Many pages of 'Your songs are born from this wandering Orphic
(...) But you were a rebel to the laws of a quiet life, to the customs of the people bucket, the wise counsel of wise people. You were homeless because followed a shocking your dream of infinity. You were a stateless person, because the poetry of which he was desperately in quest of a national world: you, for the world to bring the "scale of the working poor Italian ... do not know." Your legend is here. And some saran these simple memories of our time away to shed some light on the desperate drama of your adventure.
Legend is mystery and poetry and the mystery of your life was poetry.
Federico Ravagli , Dino Campana and university boys of his time (1911 -1914) Autographs and documents. Confessions and memories - Bologna: Clueb 2002.
* (1) Bruno Conti
Gabriel Chaco Millet In the dedication of Dino Campana to Sibilla copy of the Orphic chants Bell wrote in his own hand four lyrics (...) also appear throughout the text corrections and cessature. For a critical analysis of this copy dedicated all'Aleramo cf. D. Bell, a Souvenir d'pendu, edited by G. Cacho Millet, Oxford University Italian, Naples 1985, p. 193. Facsimile reproduction of the copy is in G. Cacho Millet, Dino Campana outlaws, Novecento, Palermo 1985, Appendix iconography, from n.39 to n.49. See Sibilla Dino Campana A Journey Called Love Letters 1916 -1918 by Bruno Conti, Feltrinelli 2002 (eighth edition)
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)