Die Kunst rettet das Ensemble unserer Organe




Motus has opened an enlarged and visionary front of observation, in order to “collect” imaginary projections of a “Tomorrow that makes all tremble”, moving swiftly across the intricate landscape of writers, philosophers, artists, comic book writers and revolutionary architects who have imaged (and still try to imagine) the Upcoming Future. From historical visions and cyberpunk, to completely hypothetical landscapes described by various collaborators-guests of the project.

The future, needless to say, is a dangerous area to enter, heavily mined and with a tendency to turn and bite your ankles as you stride forward. 

James Graham Ballard, The Complete Short Stories, New York City: W.W. Norton & Company (2009). We have been building a series of Public Acts, which, between utopias and dystopias, libertarian and catastrophic visions, see each time the engagement of Silvia Calderoni with different artists and free thinkers, young actors but also older people, animals, inhabitants of the net, economists, scientists, philosophers and political refugees… who are invited to give their “Long Goodbye to Today” and imagine, without limits or inhibitory factors, other forms of existence, resistance, subsistence, resonance, community, communication, cooperation, inhabitation… and, of course, revolution!

Each impulse, each stance implies a possible vision of the future, a change, a far away projection, whether political, economic or artistic…

This is a journey which we have subtitled “Encounters with extraordinary men, women and novels”, articulated in different performative actions andMucchioMisto Workshop residency-workshops, in various cities in Europe and the Mediterranean area. “Le Nomadisme comme une forme de resistance” with Mohamedali Ltaief and Darja Stcker in Theater RIO Tunis.

The Plot is the Revolution was the first Public Act inaugurating in July 2011 this new itinerary and it was the extraordinary encounter between “two Antigones”, Silvia Calderoni and the mythical figure of contemporary theatre,Judith Malina, who, after having seen Too Late! in New York last year, fell so utterly in love with the company’s work that she asked to be on stage with Silvia… And we did it! Besides, it is in the direction of where “there is something breaking the order”, and wanting change, that we have decided to move with this new theatrical adventure, introduced by the confrontation with the outlook of an anarchic artist and activist like Judith Malina, a stubborn pacifist who has lived and seen so much.


angelo mai cover copy.jpg


في الظهيرة ما قبل الأخيرة على هذه الأرض

In the afternoon, the last but one on this earth


يرحلون مجددّا

they are still leaving


لا يعوقهم جبل و لا بحر

nor mountains nor seas are preventing them


أنبياء هم حتى لو لم يكن بوسعهم 

they are prophets, even if they could not be…


ثمانمئة طائر عابر تمضي في إتجاه الشرق

Eighty hundred birds fly, direction « Orient »


قلت : و الإتجاه لغز المسافر، عمّا قليل سيعرف الغريب في أرض لا تردّ التحيّة على أصحابها أنّ اللّغز لا يفسّر إلاّ بالّغز

I said : The direction is the travelers’s myth, soon the foreign will know, on a land that does not respond to any greeting, that the myth will only be interpreted by the myth..

قالت : كيف أحمل عبئ التجريد لوحدي 

,تعال نعوّل عل الحزن الجميل مجددا

شوبنهاور كان أيضا عازف بيانو

She said : how can I carry the load of abstraction all alone? 

Come, we will count on the beautiful sadness again,

Schopenhauer was a pianist too


Die Küken in den Schulbänken, die quietschen vor Sehnsucht von einem echten Raubvogel angegriffen, 

verwundet zu werden - um endlich das Fliegen zu lernen.

The little chicks in their school desks squeak, craving being attacked, 

wounded by a real raptor to finally learn how to fly.


Stattdessen wird der Wall zu ihrem Schutz erhöht

Instead they rise the wall for their protection.


Wozu der Fleiss ein Nest zu bauen wenn die Vögel nie die Kraft haben werden 

sich abzustossen von der künstlich erzeugten Wärme?

Wozu nasse Blätter zwischen die Hölzer stecken wenn das Feuer woanders brennt?


Why the effort to build a nest if those birds will never have the strength

to push themselves off from the artificially produced warmth?

Why putting wet leaves between the wood if the fire is burning somewhere else?


Die jungen Zugvögel lernen nie wieder, wo es sich lohnt, 

die Nahrung zu verstecken, wenn ihre Eltern in Gefangenschaft auswuchsen.

The young migratory birds will never learn again

where it is worth to hide nutrition, if their parents grew up in prison.

Würde man hier alles wegbomben was kein Angebot für die Seele ist,

 gäbe es endlich Platz zum Tanzen.

If everything was bombed away which is no offer for the soul,

 there would finally be a place to dance…


 هذا زمان الهروب

It’s the time of escape



هذا زمان الحروب 
it’s the time of war


و الديمقراطية إنجيل عيسى في فايسبوك بابل الحديثة 

and democracy is the Gospel of Jesus in the facebook of modern Babel



تفجير، تفجير، تفجير 
bombing, bombing, bombing



في مقاطع الرخام و موسيقى الجاز العائلية
on the pieces of marble and the familiar jazz music



في ليل البوم وطاولات البوكر
on the nights of owls and the poker tables



تفجير، تفجير، تفجير 
bombing, bombing, bombing


« طير أبابيل، ترميهم بحجارة من سجيّل » 
« stormi di uccelli abābīl che li colpirono con pietre d'argilla indurita »


Torniamo nei luoghi in cui siamo già stati, 

come gli uccelli quando le stagioni cambiano..

La solitudine è alare, ma non esiste migrazione solitaria.

Si vola sempre in molti.

Sfioriamo la paura, l’ebbrezza, il vuoto. 

Raggiungiamo luoghi nuovi per cambiare, 

torniamo nei vecchi per vedere il cambiamento.


We go back to the places we have already been to,

like the birds when seasons change..

Loneliness is winged, but no lonely migration exists.

Flight is always collective.

We touch the fear, the thrill, the void.

We reach new places to change,

we go back to old ones to see the change.


كازينو مابعد حديث
Casino, post modern



كازينو مابعد كازينو 
Casino, post casino



و الحقيقة تسخر من الوقت و المكان
truth is mocking time and place


مقاعد خالية للاّعبين 
Free places for the gamblers


و الحكم، رجل مرّة أخرى
and the judge is a man again


ثقوب السّماء تضيئ بالبرق
the heaven’s wholes illuminated by lightning


جروح الشّام المبلّلة بأوراق الخريف
Sham’s injuries moistened by the autumn leaves


تفجير، تفجير، تفجير 
bombing, bombing, bombing



نبشّركم مجددا بالحضارة

civilisation is announced to you again.


Willkommen im Passport -Casino

die Armen sind Teufel

wer Pech hat wird aufgehängt

die Arme in der Luft

die Zehenspitzen am Boden

um sich abzustossen in die Freiheit

oder noch ein wenig vermoderte Luft zu atmen

solange das Herz will

Wer schreit wird zum Roulette geschickt.

Aber noch hat niemand die Worte verspielt


Welcome to the passport- casino

the poor are the devils

the misfortuned are being hanged

the arms in the air

the toes on the floor

to scuff into freedom

or breath a little more of the moldered air

as long as the heart goes on

Who screams goes to roulette

Since now nobody gambled away his words


لسنا نحن من يرسم الجغرافيا، بل الجغرافيا هي التي ترسمنا 
We don’t draw geography, geography draws us instead.


على ضفة نهر في شمال الرواية 
On the bank of a river in the North of the novel


يحكى أنّ الثورة معرّفة  بالربيع 
they say revolution is defined by spring


تفجير، تفجير، تفجير
Bombing, bombing, bombing


في الصّور و المفاهيم
In images and concepts


،في نظرات العيون الخائفة
in frightened glances


،في الترجمات السريعة
in fast translations

و في أسرّة العاشقين
and in lovers’ beds. 


Die zufällig -unzufällig weisse Frau wird gezählt zum selbsternannten „wir“ des Okzidents

solange das Bombardement der Bilder Staub in ihren Wimpern bleibt, der beim nächsten Blinzeln in sich zerfällt

The random not-randomly-white woman is counted among the occident’s self-proclaimed „we“

as long as the bombings of images remain dust in her lashes, falling down with the next wink.


Wehe die es wagt den Rand ihre Körpers zu verschieben

an den Krater in den Augen der Getroffenen

Caution, who dares to shift the border of its body to

the crater in the eyes of the attacked ones.


Im Flugzeug mit dem Blick der Linie am Boden folgen von hier nach dort oder die Orientierung im Meer verlieren, 

nicht mehr wissen wo der Ort war, der behauptete dein Nest zu sein.

In the airplane, fixing the gaze on the ground, following the line from here to there

or losing orientation over the sea and forgetting the place which is claimed to be your nest.


Der Körper, der hin und her flattert und an jeder Grenze schiesst die Realität eine Salve ins Gefieder.

The body fluttering from here to there, at each border reality fires a shot in the feathers.


C’è una piccola isola, non lontano da dove sono nata, 

dove sostano i migratori nel viaggio dall’Africa verso nord.


There’s a small island, not far from where I was born,

where immigrants stop halfway the journey from Africa to the North.


È il luogo più amato dagli uccelli in viaggio, 

è l’unico che in tanti scelgono per la sosta nel mediterraneo.


It’s the place travelling birds love the most,

it’s the only one many choose to stop in, across the Mediterranean.


La natura è rigogliosa, l’umanità, per molto tempo, rinchiusa in cella.

Liberi pensatori serrati in un metro quadrato.


Nature is flourishing, humanity, for a long time, stuck in a prison cell.

Free thinkers locked in a square meter. 


La solidarietà di quegli animali, gli unici a visitarli, ancora mi commuove.

The solidarity of those animals, the only ones that visit them, still moves me.



Mohamedali Ltaief with Motus
Roma - 14-11-2014

Text (Arabic) : Mohamedali Ltaief
Text (German) : Darja Stocker
Text (Italian) : Giorgina Pilozzi
translation : Luce Lacquaniti



acuity Block
This is example content. Double-click here to enter your account ID and display your online booking widget. Learn more