Vladimir Nazor: Water ^{2 0 1 8}

If spatial arrangements of the ancient theatres often mirrored a hierarchical structure of the society, with distinct zones for actors and the audience, creating an extension of the performance itself and fostering heterogeneous connections between performers and spectators, then Ferlin’s performative spaces tend to transcend performers’ words and gestures towards a more paradigmatic, immersive experience, therefore, almost functioning as site-specific procedures in a closed setup. This this is maybe the reason why Matija Ferlin always works in a strong “authoring” environment, where nuances off stage visuality, stage lightning, music or props, are always of equal importance as a choreography, or the global dancescape, some even being authored by him. A paradigmatic piece in this sense is, maybe, a transformation of Vladimir Nazor’s short story Water. At the heart of this play lies the drought in small town, where three months have passed without a drop of rain. Amidst the unbearable thirst and mounting longing for the arrival of a well-ship, a specific dramaturgy of uncertainty is created, hinging mainly between intimacy which is, eo ipso, metaphorized through the island, and more ecological topic of prosperity of grapes and olives, which, in turn, depends on water. As the voice of the narrator echoes through the loudspeakers, veiling his face from view – a known procedure, even a proxemic paraphrase of his Antigone – stubbornly re-framing the play and signifying that the unfolding action is a product of memory, a tale is being narrated on the omnipresence of water and interdependence of nature and living beings. caught the attention of director and choreographer Matija Ferlin and playwright Goran Ferčec, who crafted the adaptation. Although primarily a dancer and choreographer, Ferlin orchestrates a dramatic performance where movement, while significant, does not solely propel the narrative. A distinction between Nazor’s narrator and a young boy, thus portrayed by an actress – as also a periphrastic procedure – is amplified by a mystical and even dream-like ambiance, reminiscent of avant-garde perspectives, with geometric structures that unfold as islanders navigate their troubles in response to the drought. Even the movements of animals, e.g., sheep (embodied by the ballet ensemble), becomes poignant, as they suffer alongside humans, when they are brought to life by wooden objects held in their hands, producing rhythmic sounds of hooves, resonating with the bells around their necks, evoking an island-like, seemingly pastoral atmosphere. The music employed in the play comments narration as in liturgical chants, using compressed vocals and repetitive melodies, that create an overall melancholy of the island life. In other words, all the afore mentioned paradigmatic procedures of Ferlin’s oeuvre are somehow encapsulated in this performance, creating a site-specificness that pursues far beyond only perceiving space as a form of absorbing information gained while experiencing space, because it can occur wherever and whenever, not only outdoors. I was always rather convinced that a good theory does not dwell upon questions, knowing that the answers for them are often shattered somewhere in the realm of the same, or almost the same theoretical knowledge, but on the contrary, pursues in finding onto-teleological questions dis-tunned from a theoretical answering machine. Questions which do not pursue answers, but open more complex questions.