*Blenard Azizaj:
The explosive raw material (memory) of the authentic Art lives and lies in everlasting wait for the everlasting
outsiders...
The interview that
follows doesn't resemble a conventional
interview: question, answer, question again which sprang from the answer and so on. It rather looks like a
vertebral film narration, a narration that flows so unhindered and
aggressive, crossing by turns
different places, times, events,
persons, situations, but at the same time expressing deeply human ideas and values, so that at times you think that end and beginning
become one. Every step towards fulfilment, towards destination, becomes one more
glance backwards, at the starting point, at the raw material, at the roots.
Blenard Azizaj, the
thirty-one years old dancer from Albania or Nardi for his close friends, has
since 2011 developped into and become one of the most important contemporary dancers
in the international modern dance scene. Dozens of performances held on the
most important scenes and theatres of the whole world and participation in some
of the most renowned dance groups, like Akram Khan's group from UK and Sacha
Waltz & Guests from Germany, complete his artistic resume. Always with the
best dancers of our times.
Yet, thirteen years
ago, being an illegal immigrant at that time, Blenard Azizaj pushed his own life at its edge, crossing impassable
mountain peaks at the strictly guarded greco-albanian borders. It was his
second time. The first time, several years before, at the age of 14, a young
child at that time, he had not made it...
How did he actually
make it? Not that first time, thirteen years ago, since that is of no importance
any more, time has passed. But how he made it not only that time, but during
all his life ever since, while the now renowned Blenard Azizaj keeps constantly
challenging his own limits.
The explosive raw
material, the deeply hidden memory of the authentic Art lives and lies in
everlasting wait for the everlasting outsiders...This interview-narration from
the magician of modern dancing Blenard Azizaj is specially dedicated to those
and only those who are able to feel and understand what this is -so deep,
precious and authentic-, that thing which can be lost when an immigrant soul,
an immigrant life, is left unprotected to perish. It is dedicated to those only
who can feel and understand the essence and the true meaning of culture.
A horror film: for the first time at the age of 14
(and he actually experienced it)
The first time that I
tried to cross the borders to Greece I was 14 years old, that is 17 years ago.
Failure! The police squad located us in the night. Imagine the scene: weapons,
flashlights, all turned against us, cursing us as though we were criminals. We
had been walking almost half a day.
We were five people.
I only knew one of them, who was my cousin. All of us dreamed to enter the gate
of paradise. They put us to jail. I was the youngest. For the first time in my
life I watched a horror movie and, what more, I was acting in it.
I felt lost. I had no
idea what was going on and why. I just kept watching: their angry faces, their
deep hatred and anger. For the first time I really felt what it is to lose your
freedom, to be imprisoned, behind bars. For a whole day I studied this unique,
disgusting feeling. Then, they led us back to the borders. And each of us
turned back...
Crossing the gate of paradise on the verge of
adulthood
The second time I
tried to cross the gate of paradise was 13 years ago, at my 18s. We were six
people, complete strangers and completely fooled. Our guide was somebody who
supposedly knew how to lead us and he had been well paid for that.
He had reassured us about
his competency-it wasn't hard to do so, since we so much wanted to be
reassured. He promised that we would walk for five hours and then a car would
be expecting us, a car that would drive us to the dream world, to the big city
of Athens.
After five hours we
were still walking. There was a river in
front of us , a really big one; it was an unexpected hindrance. We were totally
unprepared for that. In order to make our walking easier, we carried just some
basic equipment, not even food, or clothes to change. It was March, harsh cold
prevailed in the mountains.
Faced with unknown
circumstances, not knowing what comes next, our body transforms, enters on
another dimension. We plunged in that dark river, having only two options:
either to go back or to go on. I plunged on that other dimension and crossed
the river. That sensation still remains and will always be inserted in my
memories. The body could sense nothing, because of the cold.
Having crossed the
line: everybody else had families and kids. Some were probably thinking of
those left behind and cried. I was alone. I was trembling from that invincible
cold, I was at my extreme limits, I felt that I could bear no more. We couldn't
start a fire, since the fear that the soldiers might locate us, using their
field glasses and would arrest us, forbade us do so. It was a wild performance
in deep silence under the moonlight...
Only one of us
carried some extra clothes and was able to change. For a moment he covered me
with his body and I felt his dry hug as a warm blanket thrown on me. I don't
know how long that moment lasted, maybe just a few seconds, but in me it was as
though it lasted for minutes.
At the end of that
moment, our guide who until then kept claiming that he knew where we were
going, he then admitted the truth: he didn't know where we were heading, we
were lost. Some decided to turn back, to a neighboring village near the
borders. Some others, myself included, decided to keep walking, going ahead to
the unknown. We had no other choice. We had already walked a lot, too much to
turn back...
On Greek territory...
Having crossed the
borders, we were found on Greek territory. We kept walking in the night, in the
moonlight, because otherwise the policemen would see us. Our clothes dried on
us, due to the walking and the body temperature. The dawn came. We kept walking
through mountains, following narrow paths, without knowing where we were
heading to. A shepherd appeared in front of us, with all his flock, somewhere
near his home. His dogs were barking fiercely, as though they were ready to
attack us, but he stopped them. He helped us, without any fear, because he felt
we weren't dangerous...
He led us to his
home, where he hosted us for some hours. We warmed ourselves, he gave us food
to eat. He seemed nice, but we were afraid that he might call the police and
everything would be lost. However, he was actually very nice. We left, greeting
him goodbye. He gave us some food for the road...
The following day:
endless walking, one more river ahead of us, much bigger than the first one.
You could feel how deep it was, how easily you could be carried away by it.
Anxiety. Unbelievable cold..
Till now, I haven't
ever seen or felt anything more dangerous than that river. And we had to cross
this deep, violent river in the night and in total darkness, in order to
advance without being seen by the soldiers. We had to cross it in one line,
holding as tight as possible the branches of a tree that had fallen in it.
The kid behind me
didn't make it; his foot slipped and the violent waters seemed ready to grab
him. I instictively grabbed him by the arm. I howled with all my strength: hold
on! Don't let yourself! He held on. I know that from that moment something new
entered my body, mingled with my inner self. A kind of energy, super
self-confidence, unknown till then. The sense of survival under the most harsh
circumstances...
We managed to cross
the river. We kept walking towards an unknown destination. Communication with
somebody who would pick us up from someplace to take us to Athens by car was
very difficult using the cell-phone, really problematic in the mountains. The
one responsible for this contact could not communicate properly, since he
didn't even know our exact location, in order to arrange a meeting point. We
had to find out where we were. Anxiety.
We reached a hill. We
could see from there a road where cars were moving. We sat down to rest. Everybody
sat down, except the one who should figure out where we were, in order to make
the arrangements. He had to find out the name of that road, whether there was a
sign with the close by village, all these things. He did all these things and
in a few hours the car to Athens arrived.
Four people only,
including the driver, were supposed to ride in the car, the rest two should
stay hidden in the trunk. We took turns, since the journey was long. And so we
arrived in the big city of Athens.
The sun of Athens was
the first thing I noticed: it seemed different, more intense. I couldn't feel
my legs; they were so swollen that I felt as though they had been cut from my
body...
In Athens lived my
sister with her husband and their daughter. They hosted me for a month, they
supported me. However, I knew that I would not stay with them for long. Their
tiny flat could hardly keep them in it. I decided to go. To Syros. There lived
some of my cousins.
Syros: free imprisoned...
It was very difficult
there. I was jobless, without money. The island was small, my cousins warned me
that many policemen wore no uniform, they were under cover. At that time the
police was constantly after immigrants, mostly from Albania; they arrested
them; I had no papers, I was illegal and my cousins said I shouldn't go out of
the house a lot. If the police caught you, you could stay for a month in jail,
waiting till they caught many and then they would deport all of them to
Albania. Listening to these stories, I stayed for the first three weeks all the
time at home. I would go out to the balcony only for a while at night and very
cautiously I took a walk a couple of times in the alleys close to the house.
After three weeks my
patience was exhausted. I could no longer feel imprisoned, unable to go out, to
see the natural beauty of the island-people told me about it-its people. I
couldn't even see and watch other faces besides the ones I stayed with, I
couldn't listen to their language, learn how they speak, how they express
themselves and communicate. I was imprisoned in a house in a country of
freedom...
These thoughts were
unbearable.. I spoke to my cousin Bledi, I told him exactly how I felt: I want
to go out, I can't stand it any more. If they catch me, let them do it. I want
to feel free in that illegal state I was.
He understood, he couldn't deny me that right. We went out together.
We started walking
for a while. Right behind us appeared a car with security policemen. My cousin
turns his head, looks carefully at them, gets scared. For me, since he had
documents, he was legal. Fortunately, in front of us lies a strait alley and
immediately we turned. The experienced security policemen spotted us and rapidly
stood in front of us. We ran again back to the same point we took the turn and
then ran back to the house. I was very scared. After that I stayed for some
time inside, without trying to go out.
I didn't want to get
spotted and arrested, I didn't want to go back to my country. Back there, I had
started studying in the university, but I left it, since I couldn't afford its
cost. My parents couldn't help me either. They were poor, we were a poor
family. But they were very rich in their hearts, and very rich to give me the
culture they did. They gave me something rare, something magical: freedom and
the love for freedom. My father has “fed “me with one phrase: always ahead,
always vigorously, a phrase that he kept repeating and I think it was a phrase
that has marked my life. I'm proud of my parents...
A deeply hidden inextinguishable passion...
After some time I
found a job. I used to carry stones in a carriage. Then, I found another one: I
made mud for the building of houses. Then one more: I carried iron bars for
building pillars. Then another: I washed dishes in a tavern and made salads for
the customers. Watching Christos, the cook, I learned to cook. Simply by
watching him.I felt a little better, since I worked and gained some money.
I started working at
two different jobs every day: I put wooden floors in villas in the morning and
in the evening I worked in the tavern. I started very cautiously to go out. I
frequented one bar, because my illegal status forbade me to go to different
places; it was called Bohem del
Mar. I used to call a taxi to take me
there and return me back home. I had to be very cautious. I met and spoke only
to my cousin in that bar, since I couldn't meet any other compatriots. They
knew all immigrants on the island; due to my illegal status I didn't want to be
known.
I liked dancing. I
remember myself dancing in that bar,
listening to Michael Jackson's music. I can't think why I did it, because I
don't know. I only remember the wish I made once, while dancing in the bar: may
somebody tell me something...
My relation to
dancing? I knew absolutely no technique. Dancing was a passion inside me,
hidden unsuspicious; that was the dance.
Yet a passion that I felt, I knew that day after day became more
powerful. Unextinguishable.
One of these nights
in the bar I met Aggeliki. She was a dancer, a dance teacher and her school was
on Syros. A common friend, Konstantinos, introduced us and we started talking.
She suggested that I would attend classes
in her school...
Education in the art of dance
I was happy: I had a
job and I danced. At the same time, I was still illegal, but in a way I had
come to terms with my illegal status; it wasn't such a big problem any more.
Two months had passed
when Aggeliki approached me and said that a former teacher of hers in Athens
was in a position to help me go on, to progress in dancing. Her own words were
'since you are doing very well and you assimilate every information”.
“I'm going to Athens
for three days that's what I said to my cousin and to my boss at work. I'll be
back in three days.
In Athens I met
Aliki, Aggeliki's former teacher and that same night I attended a dance lesson
in her school.
We talked. I told her
about all my problems. Don't worry she reassured me, everything will be
addressed and solved, but we need some time.
I started the
lessons. Aliki helped me tremendously. She would explain everything with
admirable patience and persistence. She knew exactly all the steps one by one
that I had to follow. I understood that, because after some very vigorous work
and preparation, she told me in a way that
seemed indisputable that my next
step was to take exams in order to be accepted in the State School of Dance. Until then, I didn't even
know what this school was...
State School of Dance in Athens
I took the exams and
I was accepted in the so called Preparatory section. After that, I became a
legal immigrant, received my documents and my student visa. My joy was really
great. At the same time, however, I wasn't aware of what was happening to me...
Times were still
rough, very rough. I didn't have a permanent job, I didn't have a house to
stay, I slept in dance schools and theatres.
Every job I could
find while I was studying in the School was rough: waiter, bartender and the
sort. I slept very little. At times I felt that I could stand it no more, I
couldn't stand that fatigue. Endless difficulties, one after the other...
However, the State
School of Dance, the life in it, served as a great lesson as regards to my
relationship with the art of dancing and the dance inside me. I learned a lot
from every professor. I loved them all, I never criticized them; I simply
worked and worked. These difficulties were really so beautiful...
The State School gave
me more and more strength. I was and still am until now a thorough observer. It
is a special art, a different art, to be able and to know how to observe. I
respect people who criticize, especially those who know what and why they
judge, but the art of observing is -believe me-very beautiful. It presupposes a
solid relationship with freedom; it is a different form of life...
This art of
observation helped me a lot in the State School of Dance. It's an incredible
place, with incredible people. This place, these people, possess something that
enables you to become special, really and deeply sensitive, through
confrontations, different truths and claims...
After a certain time,
I started doing some small jobs, like some TV shows, that gave me some money. I
met people who helped me, each one in his own way. I keep in my heart for
everyone of them a big thank you..
I was lucky to have
met in Greece all those wonderful people, who helped me each one in his own way
become today what I am. This “thank you' is not just a figure of speech; it
springs from the depths of my heart.
One word about
Pavlina. How precious her help was indeed! She disposed a place for me, where I
could keep my belongings. Until then, I was scattered in pieces, I didn't have
any kind of a base. It is very important to have a base, a home that even a
simple house can offer you. Mine, my real home was late to come; it did after
many years...
I started dancing
with the Hellenic Dance Company already from my first year of studies at the
State School of Dance. That was great, because I was thus able to assimilate in
my body, in my mind and soul long hours of dancing.
I was accepted in
2006 at the State School of Dance in Athens and graduated in 2010.
Next stage: in Europe and in the whole world...
From 2011 starts
another stage in my life. I left Greece and experienced new adventures in
Europe and elsewhere, in different parts of the planet; I danced as member of
important dance groups in front of a global audience.
I lived the life of a
man who fights in order to survive, like a gypsy. That's the raw material, the
spirit of the life I had all those years. Nobody lures me to this kind of life,
this is just me.
It's a life where
surprises, joys, successes and hardships follow one another. In a way, I feel
grateful for the fact that things happened and still do in that direction,
because this direction is me.
Madness, risks, a lot of truth and honesty are
needed for that direction. A combination of inner strength and luck is
necessary, in order to build something in this life. Things get more meaning,
more wealth when you fight for them, when you live at the edge, dangerously.
Nothing is ready for you, nothing is free. You just follow your needs, your deeper
needs in order to fight for your part as much as you can and get the most of
what you need. And never harm anybody...
You can never know
what you are able to do, if you don't try and be tried. I always respected
every opinion, but always in my life I had to make decisions of my own for
whatever had to do with me. For everything ...
I don't trust words,
I don't rely on words. I only trust things that actually happen, when I observe
their preparation and evolution. I don't feel fear for failure.
I love life; I love
people. I very much respect the people who fight, who are fighters for
survival. I can distinguish them. They are those who offer you a beautiful
smile, who offer you real things from their inner selves. Truth and the
relationship with it matures inside you.
You may find real
dignity and honesty in people who fought a lot in their lives, for their lives.
They know what life is. And they are over-sensitive about everything that has
to do with life, because they fought to survive and they survived.
Dancing groups. Some of the most important in the
world. The point of view of an authentic, immigrant soul...
They are all of them
small communities, where every kind of character and their dynamic co-exist. In
the art of dance and generally in all sublime arts, there is always a thin,
distinguishing line, always and everywhere the same, which challenges you,
watches for you. We constantly work with the Ego but one shouldn't wake up the Ego.
That's a necessary condition for a durable stability with oneself.
Work, continuous work
and respect to everyone's work. There is naturally challenging, there is
competition; but there is good and bad competition...
Sublime art doesn't
allow any other in protagonistical role at the game of developing our self
except our self. Alone with yourself, your measure is yourself; not as an
antagonist, but as a measure. This is the only sublime, the only authentic
measure. Sublime art, authentic art is the measure of its eternal claim. Just
this one, nothing else...
Alone. We and every one
of us. We, either as black or as white sheep. It's our own choice the position
that we recognize as our own, it's our choice, its claiming...
The instinct of the sublime art, the sublime art of
the instinct
The instinct of the
sublime art is continuously cultivated, since only this way, continuously
evolving, it can exist. But there is a raw material, a powerful art inside
somebody that strives to express itself and it actually does very painfully,
very very painfully; only through difficulties, only if it matures through
difficulties. The raw material, the powerful art inside us, the art of
instinct, is our perpetual and potential ability to explode, it's the authentic
raw material of the explosion. Constant attention, protection and much work is
needed to be kept alive and active.
You aren't born with
the instinct of sublime art, you constantly assimilate information from the
others, that's how you approach it. On the contrary, the sublime art of
instinct exists in you from your birth, it is you. The instinct of sublime art
when the art of instinct is not alive makes you like all the others.
Back to the roots, to the places of the primordial
memory...
I won't be back to my
roots for a while, I won't find my arteries again. I feel that I still have
lots to do before I decide to try it, I am not ready, I need some time...
Time to know oneself
looking from a distance; to become aware of what links you with your
beginnings, your roots. But that time will come. I know it will. I want it.
There are lots of
things that I care about; things to give and take; but not yet, it's still too
soon. I still need to see these things from a distance. I lived for 18 years
there, in the centre. I feel as though I move now in the district and that I
observe from outside what is inside. I search more and more persistently
answers to questions; questions about the place out there, the beginning, my
principles; about my principles and myself. I want to know why I always had
wanted to escape, when I lived there.
In the heart of cultural Europe; at the highest levels
of acceptance, of artistic recognition
For the last year I
have been living in a flat in Berlin. Its doorbell has my name written on it. Mine
and my girlfriend's. For many years I didn't have a home with my name written
outside. For many years...
I have many, far too
many scattered things: suitcases, clothes and the sort. In many different
countries...
I never chose to live
in a flat in Berlin. It seems incredible just to think about it and to express
it in words, but it is so. It just happened. In me I still feel that I belong
to the sun or the ocean; everywhere or nowhere? Nowhere…
Now I can tell to
myself that I have a base; that all those years that are scattered in the whole
world have now come, they are now gathered together in a specific point, a
centre. Surely I needed that very much: it is very rough to be eternally
suspended in the air without being able to feel your feet on earth.
On the other hand, it
is beautiful to be able to ask for both, to have both elements: air and earth.
You have better balance this way, your balancing position is every minute ready
for the explosion. The fire...
I don't feel that my
base is here, I know that it's not going to be for ever. The sense of being a
fugitive always prevails in me. Maybe in my veins runs the blood of a nomad or
a gipsy; I should look into it sometime...
I can't be quiet,
it's unbearable to me to relax for a long time. Anxiety always flirts with me,
it's in my blood to be tense.
I'm always a stranger
everywhere. Only some moments in Greece I didn't feel I was a stranger. Now
that I consider this sensation in me, this memory, it seems just incredible!
The flame for
survival, the need of the “fugitive”, the gipsy-like eternal thrill, is and
will always be there. I know. This is what always makes me breathe, what urges
me in what I do; to do it.
Who are you?
This flame for
survival. That's who I am. I am that flame that lies inside me, that springs
right from my sources, from the centre of my soul. Not from my brain.
As a man, I have
always wanted, I always want some recognition. Mainly that recognition, as a
human being; much later and much lesser, I searched as an auxiliary recognition
that of an artist.
I'm not making any
great plans. I don't make plans for the distant future. Time alters or cancels
these great distant plans and at the same time it rewards you, offering you
many and important compensations. This is the law that rules my relatioship
with time. A rule that was built from the maturest and deepest of all my
desires. I want time as a friend...
The inside art. The
most important of all performances...
What is defined as
art inside us. The most important of all performances that we carry with us; a
performance that is never fulfilled, but it keeps renovating itself, enriching
what is never supposed to be fulfilled, creating all the time new unfinished
performances...
Never anything is
really fullfilled, you can never reach definitively anywhere. You reach a point
only in order to feed back your desire for a new start, it is the raw material
for the next explosion, in order to go elsewhere, to claim something else.
Art. No bountaries
are ever conceived; boundaries don't exist...
*This interview was published in www.presspublica.gr / Our lovely friend professor
Aliki Tzen translated it for www.egomiocy.blogspot.se / Thank you!
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