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Angelin Preljocaj proposes to construct a series of imaginary rituals, emblematic of the wealth of emotions that run through us when we lose a loved one. In this project, these rituals, ranging from the deepest pain to the joy of existence, are there to defuse the dangers that threaten our reason in the face of death.

What drew you to the subject of grief?

I lost my father, my mother and some very close friends in 2023. This brought out in me an ancient and deep desire to choreograph the feelings connected to the loss of a loved one. In The Elementary Forms of Religious Life, the sociologist Émile Durkheim shows how civilisations take shape through rituals of remembrance. The requiem is part of this filiation and this structuring of our society, of our community.

What do you want to share?

I want to explore all of these emotions that run through us when we’re grieving. It’s not just sadness or devastation. There’s also the memory, the trace of the loved one that lives on within us. When we go to a funeral, we reminisce, we share thoughts, and sometimes we even laugh. From the wound, which will never heal a kind of joy can emerge, the joy of reviving the memory of the person we’ve lost. Death can, in this way, also provide relief and additional depth to life. I’d like to try and convey the feeling that life is a miracle. A celebration of life in a way.

Wich authors have you drawn upon for this creation?

Roland Barthes and his Mourning Diary, Gilles Deleuze and his Abécédaire notably, about the shame of being a Man experienced by Primo Levi when he came back from the camps. But it’s also the joy of Nietzsche, which he defines as tragic, that of the pastor Louis Pernot or the philosopher Clément Rosset for whom joy is a greater force, containing both the negative aspects of existence and their antidote. All these sources of inspiration got me thinking and feeling and will be present on stage, in a diffused way.

How do you translate these feelings into the choreography?

These reflections feed into my work and give rise to a specific style of writing. Creation for me, is not about implementing a predefined plan. It’s about confronting the material, in dialogue with the dancers, to find unusual paths. How do you speak this wordless language of grief and render these complex feelings visible? Choreographic writing is a universal language that expresses things that words cannot.

Why Requiem(s) in the plural?

I didn’t want to choreograph “the” requiem by Mozart, Fauré or Ligeti but propose a heterogeneous musical texture and add sound creations to it. It’s more like choreographic requiem(s), a procession of bodies to try to put the mosaic of feelings experienced after a loss into perspective.

Angelin Preljocaj - Interview by Vinciane Laumonier (February 2024)