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6. Erano i primi di marzo, la città
era fredda. Arrivati a Manhattan andammo subito all'albergo. Aspettavamo
l'arrivo di Gene, sentito al telefono per confermare il nostro appuntamento.
Lo aspettammo un'ora, due ore, tre ore. A casa sua nessuno rispondeva,
perplessi decidemmo di uscire per farci un giro. Scendemmo nella hall
dell'albergo e ad attenderci, seduto su un divano a fiori, c'era lui.
Il personale lo aveva bloccato, non credendo che avesse un appuntamento
con noi. Non lo riconoscevo, non era l'uomo che cercavo. Cercavo Leroy
Johnson, un ballerino, il ribelle che faceva follie a raffica. Invece
là, in silenzio, c'era un altro uomo. Si muoveva a fatica,
aveva problemi di deambulazione e notevole difficoltà di concentrazione.
Ero spaventato. Milovan mi appariva disinteressato e infastidito dall'incontro
e, nonostante mi consolasse, pensava che come al solito si era messo
in un pasticcio con me.
Gene restò con noi per una settimana. Volevamo capirci, capire
se veramente potevamo fare qualcosa insieme. Riuscii a fotografarlo,
dipingendolo di quel colore con cui lo avevo immaginato.
Solo quando iniziai a fargli ritratti a mano libera ebbi la sua attenzione
e così, lentamente, incominciammo a confrontarci sulla performance
che avremmo fatto. Iniziò adescrivermi passi e salti che avrebbe
eseguito e seguivo con il disegno le pose che faceva, e nonostante
il suo muoversi fosse zoppicante e lento lo immaginavo danzante fiero
e libero nella mia istallazione.
Nelle nostre uscite per le strade della città, la gente lo
riconosceva, molti lo salutavano con rispetto e questo ci rendeva
felici. Durante questa settimana era come se fosse diventato un'altra
persona, ricco di curiosità e fiducia per me.
Quando partii per l'Italia feci fatica a separarmi da questo nuovo
amico, contai molto sull'aiuto di una persona di mia fiducia, Veronica
Lenza. Vivendo a Manhattan, lei avrebbe mantenuto vivo il contatto
con Gene per il progetto Dancing on the Verge. |
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6. It was the beginning of March, the city was cold.
When we arrived in Manhattan, we went to the hotel straight away.
We were waiting for Gene's arrival, which had been confirmed by telephone.
We waited for an hour, two hours, three hours. No one answered the
phone at his house. Perplexed, we decided to go out for a ride. We
went down to the lobby of the hotel and there he was, sitting on a
flowered sofa. The hotel staff had stopped him, not believing that
he had an appointment with us. I did not recognize him; he was not
the man I was looking for. I was searching for Leroy Johnson, a dancer,
the rebel who was constantly doing crazy things. But instead, here
in silence, there was another man. He could barely move; he had walking
problems and noticeable concentration difficulties. I was scared.
Milovan seemed disinterested and annoyed, and even if he consoled
me, he was thinking that as usual he had gotten himself into a mess
with me.
Gene remained with us for a week. We wanted to understand, to understand
if we could really do something together. I managed to photograph
him and painted him the color I imagined him.
I was able to get his attention only when I started to draw his
portraits, and so, slowly, we began to address the performance that
we were going to do. He started describing steps and jumps that
he was going to create and I followed him by drawing the poses that
he was doing. In spite of his limping and slow mobility, I imagined
him dancing proudly and freely in my installation.
When we went around the streets of the city, people recognized him.
Many greeted him with respect and this made us very happy. During
this week it was like he became another person, rich with curiosity
and trust for me.
When I left to go back to Italy, I had trouble separating from this
new friend. I was really counting on the help of a person I knew
and that I had introduced him to, Veronica Lanza. She was living
in Manhattan, so she could maintain contact with Gene for the project
Dancing on the Verge.
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