100 årstider

“Sometimes, when I’m at home, I can feel my heart pounding. It’s like... I dunno... It’s incredible that it’s always beating. I can’t get my head around it. What’s so bloody amazing is that it keeps on beating. It’s never going to bloody well stop. My heart is never going to stop.”

When we hear Giovanni Bucchieri say this, we have already seen him in a medical facility, shuffling down a corridor radiating decay, collapse and demise. And in his younger days on stage – images projected onto his presence now, still floating through space the way only professional dancers know how. These are only the first of many, many layers of Bucchieri’s sense of self, which he presents as one aesthetic approach, strategy and style, constructing while doing so a labyrinth of confessions, recollections, ruminations and fantasies that all make up the character of this one very real person: Giovanni Bucchieri. A former dancer at the Royal Swedish Ballet, now an artist keen on fusing disciplines, Bucchieri is as many things to himself as he is to others. That he is living with bipolar disorder explains little, and yet opens up some space for thought – it’s one aspect of a man whose potential for self-invention and reinvention feels gloriously limitless.

– Olaf Möller