Calypso

xx PERFORMANCE xx PREMIERE

Which came first, the
chicken or the egg? The egg in the chicken, the chicken in the egg.

Calypso is ridiculously
unimportant and thick-headed. Calypso is goddess. Calypso is a night club for
all sorts of males. Calypso unveils new horizons for the entertainment industry
by capitalizing on creative sexuality, reassuring you that plain scrap iron can
be turned to gold! Calypso (orig. to deceive, to hide) represents individual
and collective patterns that are being transmitted invisibly and secretly through
space and time, affecting also individual lives.

Thick-headedness proves to be the tool of the elite
again and again. Those unknowing of the history don’t know what they are
resisting against.

- Andreja
Kopač, Tina Valentan

What is an artwork made of? In this performance the answer is
obvious but hidden. It is hidden in two golden eggs that travel a long way from
barely perceived feeling in the womb to the staged performance. In it, the
dancer addresses nothing less than all creation saying: “Welcome to the Peace space
station!”

Calypso by Tina
Valentan isn't from Homer yet it is – the same as the immortal nymph Calypso –
from a solitary land of shadows. It draws strength from the blackness of its
inner universe which carefully forms into a movement and voice and reluctantly
reveals secrets to the mortals too soon. What she shares with the mythological
Calypso is mainly the name: καλύπτω (kalyptō) is a Greek word for covering or
concealing and in the figurative meaning hiding, deceiving but also protection.
The care of the self.

Calypso and Calypso:
two seducers surrounded by symbols of opulence. They give away their wealth
with the generosity of those who have nothing but the awareness that before we
break it anything can hatch from the golden egg. All possibilities are open.
But Tina Valentan's Calypso is
compelled to choose only one way before breaking the egg. What will come out of
it: an artistic or biological miracle? A
performance or a child? In her picture of the world, every cell holds the
entire cosmos and everything is connected, a tree, a dinosaur and a human –
therefore creativity and art and motherhood are not mutually exclusive. But in
the world she lives in there is not enough money for both. There's no place for
the diversity that Calypso takes
immense pleasure in: an astronaut, a dancer, a cosmonaut, a pop star, a bimbo
and mystical visionary all in one.

This is the origin of pain and snarling. Disguising because you
can only pick one in such a flattened world. It appears that even the magical
power of the golden eggs fails. No matter how Calypso protects and hatches them, they remain speechless.
Self-sufficient. She tries in vain to revive the ancient mythopoetic picture of
the world as a cosmic egg where everything begins and ends, and where there’s
truly plenty of room for everybody. Here and now, Calypso has to transform from a goddess into a pop star, and stuff
all her dimensions into an exotic hat. Like a contemporary Carmen Miranda who
traded calypso and samba for synthetic rhythms, she dances around and more out
of a habit than desire she impertinently flirts with the audience which despite
seeing it all still feels embarrassed.

To make matters worse, Calypso removes golden eggs from her eyes from where they move
directly to the ovaries and converts from an astronaut-cosmonaut at the Mir
space station into an ordinary mortal condemned to biology. But before we sign
out in disappointment as her guests, we should look back and forth and remember
where the golden eggs came from and where they are going. Do ovaries really
direct Calypso or could it be that
she directs them? Is this captivity or freedom? What about both at the same
time? Mystics nod assent. Baroque poet Angelus Silesius might have wondered
which came first, the chicken or the egg, and gave an answer himself: “The egg
in the chicken, and the chicken in the egg.” It is not difficult to imagine
that in the Piece dance hall, Calypso
would cheerfully propose him a toast with egg liqueur and with an extravagant
hat on her head call out: “Long live tutti frutti!”

- Tea Hvala

Author and Performer: Tina Valentan
Music and Outside Eye: Tian Rotteveel
Dramaturg: Aleksandra Blagojević
Artistic Advisory: Snježana Premuš
Costume designer: Urška Recer
Light designer: Urška Vohar
Theoretical reflection: Tea Hvala
Executive Producer: Amela Meštrovac