Since before he even could read, Snæbjörn wanted to become a writer. Then he married Ragnheiður who is absolutely convinced he’s actually a dancer stuck in a writer’s body. Or maybe even a choreographer.   Abandoning the written word for what seems to be a quicker and easier creative process, Snæbjörn will translate his unfinished novels into dance.                                                                                                       But what really matters when it comes to a good translation?                                                                               Is translating words into movements as simple and as easy as translating Icelandic into English? Capturing the spirit of the idea? The style of the author? Can choreography replace literature?                                     Can ideas of politics, religion and psychological motivations be expressed in a meaningful way by a dancer stuck in a writer´s body. On the power of language, or the lack thereof.

Credits:                                                                                                                                                       Concept: Ragnheiður Rebel & Snæbjörn Brynjarsson.                                                                                           Performance: Snæbjörn Bryjnarsson.                                                                                                   Choreography & Director: Ragnheiður Rebel.                                                                                         Dramaturgy: Ásgerður G. Gunnarsdóttir & Alexander Roberts.                                                                   Producer: Ragnheiður Skúladóttir.

 

We believe in the power of dance, in the beauty of dance. We believe that by dancing for you right here and right now now we are communicating something to you, body to body, soul to soul. Something you can feel in your bones, your hearts, in your stomach, just being in the same space. We don´t think that is possible with a book.

You see the written word, the text is dead. It´s speaks to us beyond the grave. Millions of forest are been cut down every hour and turned into paper waist that lies unread, unopened and even untouched. But you would never see a dance dusting on a shelf. If poetry is an echo begging to be danced then dance is poetry with arm and legs and a alive. It´s a movement that brings us together.

Text can lie to you, it can manipulate you and can make you feel inferior, make it seem superior. Text divide us into religions, race, nations and sex.

All the reasons to go to war where written down, but dance is an act of love.