This evening in three parts is dedicated to a choreographic exploration of the body within the tension between fragility and transformation, not as opposites, but as interconnected processes. They emerge as parts of a cycle in which the human condition becomes visible in all its contradictions: not as weakness, but as strength.

In times of global upheaval, digital acceleration, and collective uncertainty, the works speak of becoming and passing, of holding on and letting go. They invite us not to escape these states, but to make space for them.

SHIVER is a choreographic self-dialogue, a dance with one's own shadow. The body becomes a projection surface for inner processes, carrying memories within and making the experience of vulnerability tangible. The stage transforms into a space where intimacy becomes visible and directs attention toward the barely perceptible, toward that which resists expression. Its movement language oscillates between holding on and letting go, heaviness and lightness, rigidity and liberation. Patterns are broken in order to open new spaces. The old dissolves, the new emerges. Powerful, vulnerable, and courageous in a world that often celebrates only strength, SHIVER honors the poetic force of fragility and understands vulnerability as a state of openness, a prerequisite for change and new possibilities.

NOT YET choreographed and performed by Luan de Lima, is a solo about what a person holds on to while adapting to a new environment. It begins at a threshold where change has already begun, yet its destination remains unknown. Transformation unfolds not as a sudden shift, but as a continuous process in which body, time, and matter constantly shape one another.

HOW TO HOLD AS WALKING BECOMES SOMETHING ELSE creates a space of resonance between the two solos SHIVER and NOT YET, where transformation itself becomes a choreographic principle. Through repetition, variation, and embodiment, movement gradually becomes a practice through which the unfamiliar turns familiar and is transformed into something of one's own. Inscribed into the body, these gestures speak of a process of becoming that unfolds through the act itself: a continual reconfiguration of what has been and what is still to come. Working with movement material that did not originally belong to my own body, the work opens a space of inquiry:

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• How does this movement material, which is not mine, relate to me?

• Who is moving whom here—am I moving the movement, or is the movement moving me?

• How does this feel in my body?

• Does something change when I repeat a movement over and over again?

•  When does movement become my own?

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Through repetition, perception, meaning, and embodied memory begin to shift. The unfamiliar is not simply adopted but lived through, transformed, and continually re-created. Rather than something fixed, movement emerges as an ongoing process of appropriation and transformation—a continuous negotiation between memory, experience, and imagination. In this way, the work inhabits a state of becoming that resists final definition: not an ending in the sense of resolution, but a practice of remaining open.                                                                       

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