RAIN

I come from a family of photographers. My great-grandfather, my grandfather, and my father were all photographers. Later, my mom took up painting. I grew up in a world where memories were made up of moments snatched from time and frozen forever. In my shows, I simply make these images move.

This story takes place in a theatre where a circus show is in rehearsal, where theatre and reality blend into one another and you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends. The protagonists exchange glances revealing little love stories, secret passions, flashes of intimacy. Their fragility has slowly blossomed, surfacing in the ultimate moments of effort in the interplay of extreme equilibrium. The artists are out of the past, characters from collections of old photos, handsome and strong like our grandparents. And then there is the sky, a vast sky.

When I was little, when the first summer storm came, I was allowed to go out in the garden to play in the rain and get soaked to the skin. I still love that feeling of freedom — shoes full of water, clothes drenched, hair dripping. “Let it rain,” we’d say. It was as if we welcomed whatever came from the sky, sun or rain, we didn’t care. Unexpected things can come from the sky: messages, signs and promises. On our stage, not only rain will fall; surprises will pour down as well. There’s a certain kind of feeling in this show, almost a sense of nostalgia, like a strange need to go back to the house you came from, the house where a family once lived, where your roots are. In our house we called “rain in your eyes.” this kind of beautiful, sweet sadness that you feel when you look at a sunset. I want this show to be like a caress: simple, direct, filled with sensuality and tender hope. The protagonists in this adventure appear and gaze searchingly at the audience from the front of the stage. They begin a dialogue with the spectators, looking them straight in the eye. Then they are once again swallowed up by the surreal images of the story.

If I had to describe this show, I would say it is full of hope, joy and a sweet longing, and that it is made of the stuff of my grandmother’s stories. I dedicate it to all those who love to feel the rain pouring down on them.

Daniele Finzi Pasca