CHROMA. IMPRESSIONS.
I've translated part of July's impressions into english. Which is bad way of doing itas it's always better to write in english than to translate into it from russian :).
Anyways. My impressions after Chroma in BT this July.
I knew the seconds would be infinitely few, but there were fewer still than I imagined. The first ripped reality with the curvature of her spine. The second impudently revealed the Innermost which broke away without patience… the third brought with it the realization that ever subsequent second would be a violent mixture of pleasure and nagging pain and all too soon it would be over. I was against that end, absolutely against it.
They have so much genius it must have surpassed its Creator’s idea: not only beyond classical Space, they have moved passed classical Time. They are a new dimension of the Melting Clock, the dimension of Motion, a wild mixture of Dali and Escher. Absolute rejection of solid shape and the innocent purity of escaped Essence, wild and irrepressible both within its passion and violent scream, and its sadness and eternal silence…
Shades are dashing around, they are so different and so much alike…They declare their right to existence. They are - Feast of Entity, which had finally torn down the fetters of tags, wreaths, masks and cassocks; they are - above gender and color… Faust has stopped The Moment, and it became clear that it has nothing to do with eternal peace and silence there. It turns out that the Instant is the burst of high-purity and the space and the time are undistinguishable in their quantum unity there and they are merged together in the charming Dance of Pure Existences where feeling is equal to thought, motion is equal to sound and color is - the Word.
P.S. How much one can say in the whisper of corporeal shades, by the clear whisper of Excellence of the bodies of ten?...the curtain… I know, I definitely know that my heart will be beating again soon and its first booming sound will bring me back the world of reality, enunciating the Obvious: He had made it. They had made it. There was passionate whisper of the true time which is dropping with ringing silence from the evanescent fingers of distant touch. There was whisper of the curved space of the seeking souls, immersed into the murmur of the sea. There was a whisper of the Phoenix flight having absolute value even being the last…They were the victors and the vanquished at once, every single second their anguished silence of beautiful bodies was trying to make itself heard…every single long second…but have you heard what was said by the eternity between? I did and I’m still deafened by shrill voice of those corporeal shades .
*Chroma in BT. Collage is made of Marc Haegeman pic’s. Moscow'11