Cementary

« Cementary », keeping the thread of an elementary ‘exploration’ in the urban labyrinth, visits one more time the urban environment, but this time, the thematic of the company, focuses more on the idea of the dwelling of the city.

What is like to be homeless and live on the streets?
What is the significance of the ‘empty spaces’ of a city?
How can these spaces be re-used and recycled?
And what kind of dance can be born there?

Cementary is an imaginary city. A city, that belongs to the future using contemporary issues and the nowadays examples. Cementary is a city that survived a crisis although still mourns for its victims. It is the city of blending. It is the city where voices scream underneath the cements. Cementary is the future, even though today we are unable to imagine it.

For this piece, Aerites are reproaching ballet, in a way that could be danced on the streets, creating a kinetic vocabulary that could be called “street-ballet”. Such a contradictory and provocative language, but at the same time a language that could be understood by anyone, where any “body” can fit anywhere.
With Cementary, Aerites want to devise their own city of their dreams, their own world, which might allow us to ponder, even for a little while, on our future.

If only we could listen to the voices underneath the cements…

Automatisms in the shape of a prophecy:

The city of tomorrow corresponds to the aesthetic quality of its tyrants, so we cannot prey on its posthumous fame.
A city, which belongs a priori to crisis because of its consistency and innovation.

The future is war.

We shall discover the forgotten happiness into darkness and basements. Because we first reached this neighbourhood and we played here first. We go around because we can’t stop. We move because if we stop, we contribute to the project you undertook, to exterminate a generation of promising and innocent educated consciousness. But you didn’t take into account that this hunting doesn’t lead to the sky, but to the bottom of your anxiety.

The future is disorder.

Nothing is darker than the disappearance of a dream.
And we shall become a magnificent history for the new generations, going around a city that you abandoned, uninvited, untidy but obsessively honest. Because we know that whatever we will see won’t correspond to the naivety and arrogance of time, but is going to sing hymns, through rusted pipes, for the beauty of life. A life that we first knew is impossible to abandon, because we would lose all the songs we made alone, without your help.

Whatever
remains
will be future.

Besides, the fairy tale of a city that sleeps in chaos, won’t be spoken by the forgotten bombs that didn’t explode, but by the shooting of our own legs that will run so fast, trying to make you understand that if you don’t move fast enough, you will fall into the ditch of illusions.