I crush my skin’s landscape. I roll it up, put it on, drop it, move it, reveal it, hide it, send it back. Searching, losing and finding it, in the absolute here and now, before “it is!”. I am slowly transforming, constantly forming, I unexpectedly destroy, knot, tear apart and carefully unscrew. The endless process of becoming enchanted into a visible image/object. I put together a poetic, fleshy album for newspaper clippings, mythical stories heard by chance and carefully hidden dreams.

This is the real thing is a performance where the body is at the centre of the performance. A single dancer creates and deconstructs her environment, playing in the landscape of visual meanings and possible references. Her own body flickers and transforms, remaining in the process of continuous becoming. Various qualities, textures, fragments of emotions, associations, situations, intentions, characters, actions, become embodied, but none of them is fixed in the form of a visual object. The physical body functions rather as an infinite hypertext, referring the viewer to more and more new associations. The dialogue between the real body and its visual representations raises the question of what the body actually is, how we perceive it and to what extent we can consciously construct it.