Tanzquartier Wien

The Rakete festival “numero due” takes the audience to new galaxies; to families, mothers and children, in-between positions, visions of the future and performance artists. So, off we go! “Friendly vibes” carry me to Studio 2.

“When I was a little kid, my dream and the dream of many friends was to have the chance to travel one day, to experience what it meant to cross the sea by boat or the sky by plane. We were simply curious to discover what was happening on the other side of the ‘unknown’.” I hear you, Mohamed.

As on the first Rakete weekend, an artist from a predominantly Muslim country, Tunisian choreographer Mohamed Toukabri, takes the stage in Studio 2. I consider this worth mentioning because a) Mohamed himself makes it the subject of his performance and b) there is still room for improvement on Vienna’s stages as far as the presence of (cultural) diversity is concerned. So, the fact that he has been invited to Rakete is cause for hope. In the performance The Upside Down Man Toukabri describes how he became this “upside down man” – a b-boy. In several chapters he tells us about his family and his life between Tunis and Belgium. “Crossing the sea by boat” is enough to make me think of the many people who have tried or are trying to cross the Mediterranean for a safer, better life in Europe. For a moment, images of frustrated attempts of such trips flash in front of my eyes. Must be the bubble I’m in. Mohamed, at any rate, touches on the topic indirectly at best. That’s because it isn’t part of his personal (hi)story. And it’s his personal (hi)story that this piece is all about, and he takes the opportunity present his experiences of racism and anti-Islamism on stage. He does so with so much warmth and “positive energy” that it isn’t as upsetting as it might have been. Videos of the father dancing to “Billie Jean” in the living room (“Is this a typical Arab man?”), and of the mother, who has discovered that housework has a meditative quality to it (please let me in on the secret!), and seems to have a positive, sensible view on life in general: “The day I left home travelling to Europe for the first time, my mother whispered in my ear, saying: ‘Where you’re going now things may seem different from what you’re used to. Don’t be scared, give it time and try to understand the differences, because in and within these differences a big part of yourself is hiding.’” (Much love from me for this advice.) Vienna is mentioned as well: “When I arrived at the Viennese train station…”, and I have a sense of foreboding (prejudices?), just like the woman next to me in an “Es ist wieder Donnerstag” sweatshirt, who breathes hard with apprehension, and WHOOMPH!, there it is: ID control, racial profiling, from Belgium, really? How’s that even possible? Mohamed and Belgian – what? In other words, a high cringe factor. A question that has been bothering me since the beginning re-emerges even more plainly: Does Mohamed, the artist Mohamed, actually want to make a piece about this or does he “have” to? Does he feel the need to act on behalf of others, to be a mouthpiece? Wouldn’t he much rather just do a piece “about lines and dots”? Would anyone want to see such a piece by him? Isn’t this field reserved for others while he is supposed to teach us a little bit about life as a Muslim? Who am I ascribing what to, and for how much longer? Mohamed. Mohamed. Mohamed. A name he always bore with joy has become a stigma in Europe. Then, Mohamed was equivalent to kindness, trust, tenderness, support, generosity… In Europe, his name is translated as: intolerance, jihad, IS, carnage, bombs, terrorism, death. He isn’t immediately identified as being “an Arab”, though, he realises. Well, “lucky” him! However, as soon as his name is mentioned, people in Europe think of war instead of love.

Toukabri still feels at home everywhere, he likes the in-between world he finds himself in. “Isn’t it like being a bridge? Between the promises of spring and the focus of fall?” The audience is lucky, the subject could have been dealt with much more harshly, one might have had to face one’s own prejudices even more rigorously. Mohamed shows hardly any anger, no trace of bitterness. A final, impressively first-rate head spin in the disco ball flare once again illustrates Toukabri’s “The world keeps on turning, make the best out of it” attitude. And I’m buying into it.

And on we go, apropos “world”, into the cosmos, to galaxies, to future scenarios, with atoms, amoebas, aliens (or is that, again, only in my head?) and many poetic, intelligent questions to beating-heart beats. “Would you rather be time or space?” I now know my answer to this question: space! “Is the cosmos all there is, was, will be?” I don’t think so. “Shall I have a baby or save the world?” Ideally: have a baby that will save the world. I can watch Karin Pauer for hours: her moves, the slightly defiant look; I hereby declare myself a Pauer fan (am I allowed to do so?). I like these trains of thought. Agnieszka Dmochowska as a partner on stage definitely adds to the performance. Pauer also invites her mother to join her on stage. Unlike Toukabri’s, however, she does so in person. “Are you my next shape?” – “Aren’t you mine?” The next five hundred thousand years of movement is a continuation of Karin Pauer’s research into the cosmos and the place of humans in it, accompanied by a cool soundscape. “Will future species share our obsessions; will they also constantly trouble themselves with questions about the future?” I delve into the Pauer galaxy and allow myself to drift until Brian Eno and John Cale pull me out of it abruptly. Yeah, sorry, I’m a little confused by the last scene, and I mean it when “Is she being serious?” escapes me in the direction of the woman in the “do!” sweatshirt. She appears to be loving it. I’m still not entirely convinced by the irony of the flashlight choreography to “Spinning Away”. But kitsch sweetens life, and that’s a good thing. So good, in fact, that I downloaded the song right away (FYI, I paid for it!), and so Karin and Agnieszka continue to glow in my mind’s eye.

After a few cans of Rakete sparkling wine the wonderful mini festival presents a fair quantity of absurd humour. Sophia Süßmilch makes nonsense of the art business and mocks its claims in If you think you are a performance artist but you’re really just a meme. A bunch of carrots, a whip, children’s armchairs and party hats raise expectations that are exceeded, as far as I’m concerned. In – not sure if I left one out writing them down, so busy was I watching – eleven images she reveals what that looks like: If you think you are a performance artist but you’re really…just a meme…just not the one…just a painter…just a fan…just a motherless child…just a woman artist…just a feminist…just a dancer…just a theorist…just a product of your environment…just an entertainer. Süßmilch’s own mother is among the eight performers, as I later learn from the Artist Video on the TQW website. She must have been the “motherless child”, drinking at Sophia’s breast. Apparently, her mother shares her refreshing flavour of self-irony. I would like to see both of them again soon.

A(nother) successful evening at Rakete, exciting artists, interesting female voices and discoveries on the other side of the “unknown”. I still wonder whether Mohamed would have received funding if he had wanted to do a piece about galaxies. But (unfortunately) it still seems to be important that he builds bridges. It was gratifying to see that on the second weekend there were again more interested visitors than available seats. If I could ask for something, it would be a third night of performances per weekend. Apparently, word has got around about the great potential and the superb curating of Rakete. And because it’s playing in the background: “One by one, all the stars appear, as the great winds of the planet spiral in spinning away, like the night sky at Arles, in the million insect storm, the constellations form.” (Brian Eno & John Cale)

Johanna Figl studied theatre, film and media studies, was artistic director and producer at Szene Bunte Wähne for many years, worked in public relations at ImPulsTanz and has just received her diploma in psychosomatic kinesiology. She is primarily a dramaturge in the fields of dance and performance for both young and adult audiences. She focuses on sociopolitical issues, diversity, feminism and interculturality. Her current project “Under Cover” in collaboration with Iranian choreographer Ulduz Ahmadzadeh premiered at Rakete in May. She will hold the self-empowerment workshop “Power Animals” for children from the age of 8 at ImPulsTanz this summer.

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