"David Noir, whose very face and body convey a refusal to give up childhood, never stopped really playing with his accomplices."
An Evening or Another | Guy Degeorges | The Head and the Territory
We don't believe it, yet we're right in the middle of it, in our mental territory, so I put on a mask, a wig, I move too. A zombie chases me, David Noir harangues me.
Cassandra | V. de Saint-Do | With Mowgli, in the jungle
Word games, sex, jokes. There is, as in any game, an infinite seriousness, sometimes an evocation of the tragic in derision, a telescoping of meaning.
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Interview:
Monsieur Noir.
Watching these sequences, one can only note the richness of what happened at Les Parques and we know that this is only a sampling of the multitude of micro-events that took place there. This sampling was magnified by the eye of Karine Lhémon, thank you to her for this beautiful return.
It would seem that these days and nights have been tinged with the color you were hoping for, it's likely not by chance. We can measure the journey between the 2011 and 2013 Fates.
What satisfaction do you get from this?
Do you have any regrets? Oh, you don't have to answer that question.
Can you already see yourself in the future of the stage? Do you envisage a sequel, a variant of Les Parques or anything else?
Thank you for your answers, which will interest a partner audience that is still amazed and curious about the next step.
Apprentice journalist at the Very Important Person Tribune
I am always happy to answer feverish questions from the press at the Very Important Person Tribune.
I have indeed also a lot of satisfaction to see these images, even if I need now to forget them a little and let others discover them before coming back to them to better "understand" them. I work, progress, always like this; whether it is with regard to my notes, texts, ideas or even projects in their entirety. It is necessary for me to "realize" what actually happened during these performances from the point of view of the participants, of my own responsibility and of chance, which remains an important ally even if we do not owe it everything. To do this, I am now gradually distancing myself from these images so that they can fade away in a light mist and combine with my own memories as in a chemical reaction. "It's alive! "I will be able to shout in a while, because there is always an afterlife in a creation. It will be the birth of a new species or family of forms; at least I hope so. I have no regrets because I try to always love what has been, rather than what I might have wished. My only anticipated regret would be not being able to continue, but when that day comes, fortunately, I won't be around to regret it. So, it's well done. If I don't have any regrets, I have on the other hand lessons to learn as from any experience, in order to refine the trajectory of the objects that interest me. I don't know yet what they will be made of in a future I hope close, but I am slowly getting back to it or rather, their silhouettes are taking shape and catching me in my race to seek them or flee them, depending on the day and night. As usual, I revisit my recent and older notes, often compulsively accumulated during the creation of a project and of which they are the momentary fuel. Thus I sort and throw away a lot, in big compact garbage bags filled with blackened papers of forgotten or obsolete words, after having reread them; which delights me a lot. I lighten up at the same time as I gather the humus and the residual elements of new substances. All this is incorporated into my life or vice versa and influences my behaviours and thought orientations. This internal movement makes me feel alive again, which is certainly my first satisfaction, because we must not hide the fact that the exhaustion of the forces that a show imparts, also leads to morbidity. The main thing that remains in my mind since "Les Parques" is my pleasure in playing "alone" in the midst of others and the autonomy of the audience to manage very well on its own, whatever its choices to act or not to act according to its orientations, its sensitivity and its views. This does not necessarily lead me to persevere in the direction of the invitation to participate that was that of the Fates, but pushes me to reflect on the posture of "partners" to propose to the spectators so that their identities and mine or those of the performers coexist, without them sitting back down again in their seats. I am not looking for form for form's sake, but to create a communication other than the systematic religious contemplation chosen or suffered; rather a coexistence in parallel with each other, with some moments of crossing, which is for me, a bit of a life model. I believe that the look at art has become the same over the centuries as the look at leaders and power: we admire or criticize but we don't change much. This remains a commented observation. Similarly, in "real life", for tangible consequences to arise from the meeting of powers of various kinds that choose not to deny themselves under the guise of what is called "consensus", bloodshed is still required for the moment. I say to myself that there are perhaps other means to be invented so that the desires and forces present "get along" without necessarily going towards this weak arrangement, which is supposed to suit everyone, but which generally amounts to the submission of the real desire of one of the two parties. I simply wonder, therefore, if life in society is necessarily this somewhat bland or very constraining thing; if there are not parallel worlds where "doubles of oneself" can emerge, more intelligent, more creative and above all not reasoning or perceiving things with our eternal and tiring habits of "doing wrong". I simply believe that catharsis has become a non-functional model today and that we need to find something else more "tasty" to represent, embody and sublimate human impulses without damaging their essence. This is one of the reasons why I can no longer be interested in stories.
Thank you, Mr. David Noir.
Hasta luego, good wind and long road on the crossroads