NOW - 30.07.2007

30. 07. 2007
русскийdeutsch


NOWDimmer is his name.

He just appeared before us as a common coordinator.

However, he could be anyone: scout, drug dealer, president, dancer,
seller of oranges, singer or ship’s captain. First encounter at the
airport – we see the proud silouette next to the car resembling
Tovstonogov’s profile. Scared a bit we approach him but the figure
instantly transforms itself to Louis de Funes. A light tumble and we
are heading toward the hotel already, laughing and crying.

A boy grown up in the streets of the Brazil Carnival. A jester and an
acrobat. In the old days – the star of Brazilian circus, and now – a
grayish bird, Dimmer. He plunged us into the night life of Brasilia.

None of us have seen him in all his height. Just in details. The
eyes, hands, flexible spine, flying eyebrows. He is everywhere and
nowhere. Roma apprehended him as a giant, Max saw a decrepit old
man….

Middle of the night. Knock on the door…

“Anton! Antonio!”
“Who is there?”
“It’s me – Dimmer”
“What’s happened?”
“Anton, thank you for the beautiful show, I’m so happy you are here…
and the public is so happy, and please come again and more… and so on…
but this is my last job here at the festival. My Voice is calling me.
I have to confess to the world, I need to record my LP “Penetrations”.
This is a musical where I play the lead and actually the only
role. It’s a large show. Whole Brasilia must be involved.

I will sit in a box and starve. There is a hole. The box is upholstered with fur.
Every resident of my beloved city must put his head in and look me in
my eyes. Every one! And if even one will not come to my box, I
will die. I’ve calculated. I can last about a month, 3 seconds per
person. The music will be written by Syd Barret. It doesn’t really
matter that he’s dead. Since I was a kid I rolled the “Dolly Rocker,
Dolly Rrrrrrrr…” under my tongue.” (He showed me how exactly he did
it).

“I would be very pleased if you would shout tomorrow – Hey, hey!
Goodbye, Dolly Rocker!”

In the morning Dimmer wasn’t the Night Guest anymore. We said goodbye
to each other, chilly.

Farewell Brazil. Goodbye Carnival. Goodbye the “red” Dimmer, even if
there was no you at all…

Photo - Alisa OleynikPhoto - Elena YarovayaPhoto - Elena YarovayaPhoto - Elena Yarovaya
Photo - Elena YarovayaPhoto - StykDimmer. Photo - Maxim DidenkoPhoto - Elena Yarovaya
Photo - Maxim DidenkoPhoto - Elena YarovayaPhoto - Elena YarovayaPhoto - Elena Yarovaya
Photo - Alisa OleynikPhoto - StykPhoto - Styk

Text by Roman Gabria, Max Didenko, Anton Adasinsky
English text editor: Jennifer Williams
Photos by Elena Yarovaya, Maxim Didenko, Alisa Oleynik, Elena Shtykova
Photo design by Elena Yarovaya


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  1. Arefieva Olga Says:

    Питер. Троллейбус на Невском. Петербурженка неопределенного возраста 75-125 лет (язык не поворачивается назвать ее старушкой) собирается выходить. Перед дверью стоит афропетербуржец или еще какой афро-, мешая даме пройти к двери. Низкое, слегка дребезжащее контральто, явно привыкшее к общению с Великими Князьями на балах в Зимнем, было слышно всему троллейбусу:
    - ЭФИОП! Вы выходите?