Kefar Nahum

To give life to objects to the point where their appetite to live starts to devour the manipulator herself.

A world of objects, objects made of nothing, collected haphazardly during tours, to which a soul is attributed, human desires and animal impulses. Incarnate, devour, incarnate, devour. They reiterate the supreme shambles that is humanity.

Power games and feudal bed rights, monstrous couplings, unnatural births, gratuitous violence, executions taking place in a cortege of incessant transfigurations from which even the puppeteer’s body will not escape — flesh and blood absorbed like any other materiel.

On stage there are two tables and two prime contractors.
She, half woman, half spider, manipulates a whole flow of monsters, all made up of jumble.
He, at the keyboard, gives them voice and a surrounding of sound.

We seek, in the symbiosis that takes place, to try and distinguish from where the gesture emanates and which of the two worlds, so closely fitting together, engenders the other.