There is a curious melody coming from the room next door. The player obviously knows what they are doing. A sound controlled is always appealing. A sound controlled? the sound of control, perhaps. It’s first impressive, then attractive. And I want to be part of it. I want to be in it, to have the feeling of being it, of being a piece of the hosting chamber, one of the things forming the resonance of the chamber and the music, simultaneously.

Chamber, music.

Chamber music: a tonality specific to a location, a flavour emanating from the space between two or many bodies, between two or many fences.

Chamber music: it used to gather small ensembles composed of different instruments, each of them so particular, each of them shaped and sounding so singular. But they are meant to match, they are meant to compose, together (they are meant to).

There lies a circle, a warm space, a safe corner.
The instruments are conversing, their voices respond to each other, in accordance with the other, in accordance with the audience.
The goal is to maintain a presence, to maintain a tone and respect a volume.
Not too loud, not too slow.
The goal is to maintain a presence, its simple existence on the score, in the score, or its inhabitance of the room, of minds, its settling of memories. By reflecting the enveloping unity, it fills the floor and other cavities: a room, a brain. Spatial, cranial.

You notice, after having approached your seat and prepared to play your part,
that you are stuck in a carcass: the carcass of your seat, the structure of the space, the carcass of the beat.
Once you’ve touched the door, walked on the wooden ground or the tiling, you follow their lines, curves and straight surfaces, and they follow you; you’re just an intermediary. The sound was there when you arrived, the sound will be there if you quit.

It seems that your skin is turning slightly grey–ish. It’s funny, you’ve started to match the other bricks (the other pillars, the other players).

Make an impression and cultivate distance / don’t slip but slide between walls and doors and pores / turn around and go round to potentially play around / the compromise is the disguise, you enter and you flatter / you flatter your way in, but it has just started / embrace the pitch, avoid friction / facing neighbors, faking collaborators.

Your skirt has never been a better apparatus. You use it to flirt, to get yourself closer. Once inside, you don’t use it but mimic it, you go around, distance yourself with subtlety and walk along the walls. The retreat is less foreseeable this way, less predictable – less suspected.
Does attraction always morph to deception {déception}, disillusion? a trap.

They have installed amazing chairs lately, they literally embrace your body, back and butt. You couldn’t be in a better situation, better position, better condition.

© Nolwenn Salaün, 2015—2021