NAU NUA: MARA MATTUSCHKA

From the entrails

There is no future, not for you, not for me and not even for them, even though we are all in it together and ideas keep flying around everywhere. Sugar cubes long ago ceased to be, dreams are broken and fixing them would be too expensive, just think about the bill for the labor. As with everything, in the end, it's best to buy a new one, except mine, which came out very well. My dream, and my cold turkey, grew in a rebellious frame, impregnated with breaths of Anger, Deren and Duchamp, and traces of Mara Mattuschka making love to an incredulous and spasmodic Walt Disney. The world changes, especially after aiming your memories at the rays of sunlight that are films like Legal Errorist and the way it’s lived.

Born in Sofia, Bulgaria, in 1959, is described as a punk filmmaker. For years, she lives in Vienna and has developed a fruitful career in film, painting and theater, all from studies in anthropology, applied arts to film animation and linguistics. She combines her creativity with education as a professor and is also a member of Austria Filmmakers Cooperative and committee member of ASIFA Austria.

Works like Parasymphatica (1985), S.O.S. Extraterrestria (1993), ID (2003) or those made by the choreographer Chris Haring Errorist Legal (2005) and Burning Palace (2009), demonstrate her iconoclasm. The first ones had Mattuschka starred playing the character Mimi Minus in order to explore madness, body and identity. In S.O.S. Extraterrestria a huge creature brings destruction, while ID shows our own identity in question being transformed into monsters adapted to social norms. It’s a raw Faust. Films with the enormous talent of Chris Haring represent a treaty of the movement from a very personal vision.

Burning Palace opens with the sentence "You only have a split second of a pose to multiply your transgression." An erotic play between five characters in the Burning Palace Hotel is shown as a transgressor work in which groans, bodies and hidden desires create an atmosphere definitely grotesque. Guts on air.

Text by Juan Carlos Romero