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Learn to Hunt

Text by Inês Lebreaud

A group of hunters, an army, go inside a dangerous area, walking in a pack, displayed in a circle, back to back with each other. In their hands, a camera is the weapon and Philippe Vincent, the project initiator, is some kind of a general, leading them.

Suddenly, someone discovers an enemy inside the group or maybe someone becomes conscious that he is himself the enemy. All the dynamics of behaviour and of choreography within the group change. The forces turn together to find him, chase him – or hunt – and shoot him.

All the time, the cameras are recording. Every frame shows a fragment of the landscape surrounding them, joining in a 360º still panoramic. The moment they find their enemy, they all come together and converge on the same point. Philippe directs them with the intention of creating a choreography for them, and there also for the frames.

In the background, portuguese fado Amália’s “Estranha forma de vida” in Jacinto Lucas Pires’ voice becomes a hunting lullaby and it’s pace works and shifts into different modulations and atmospheres as do the rhythm that guide them.

Since the beginning it was established that this project should be open to everyone who wanted to engage to it and it actually turned out to become a group experience, letting no one of the eighteen artists present in the laboratory out of it.

This is just a second moment of testing the idea, that is informed by an historical context of theatre’s tragedy and also inspired by Philippe’s observation of the documentation team’s behaviour in TryAngle’s context, always hunting for an artist to shoot, through film… For now, it is just a first try out. They’ll get back to it later.

Open Season
Text by Inês Lebreaud

Inside Montemor-o-Novo’s Bullring, round the arena, standing on the dirt, a whole audience of about two hundred people. In the center, the hunters stand on their positions, back to back with each other, with their cameras on their hands. They’re ready.

“ACTION”, Philippe Vincent, all dressed in white, the emperor of the arena, yells. And the games begin.

Jacinto’s voice tears the silence. The hunters, now reduced to the fourteen strongest shooters (artists in TryAngle), start their dance, moving in circles.

The spectators are now a part of the game. As the camera points at them, they become an element of this ballet; a prop of the set; the second gladiator of the battle.

“SKY”, Allwynne Pritchard’s voice sounds so clear, so strong, and all the cameras focus the blue round pool above them.
And down again, always moving, looking for a prey.

“Coração independente/
Eu não te acompanho mais/
Pára, deixa de bater”

[“Independent heart/ I won’t keep up with you any longer/ Stop, quit beating”]
and in between every verse, a shivering drum, pulsing twice.

They keep walking; they keep walking in circles, with no destination, just walking. And then the game changes, as they turn into each other. The body they form together looks for this independent heart to make it stop. They want to make it stop.

As they feel a pulse inside, they try to reach it. Emmi Venna is the target, but the camera shooting can’t make it stop. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. She won’t be with them anymore, but the hunting lullaby restarts and BOOM, the pacing, BOOM.

The search continues and Rui Catalão is the new target. They shoot him and he keeps walking. He’s ripped out of their body and they keep shooting and he keeps walking. Then he stops, facing them. They keep shooting it. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, it goes. Until it stops. And everything is silent.

“IT’S OVER”. Phillipe, the emperor, ends the games. They’re dead now. They won’t move, but their independent heart keeps his journey in silence. He keeps walking, just keeps walking.