EXTRA SET: It's a head drag, a loving head drag, but a drag.
by Marcio Kerber Canabarro and Sindri Runudde
Real physical accidents became a focus of our conversation. But we also explored more nuanced topics, such as the power dynamics within relationships between those who see and those who don’t. At some point, this difference in perception becomes a real concern. We also talked about the awareness of becoming a burden—creeping into our partner’s time while using that time for something closer to our own interests, something that blurs the lines of assistance. This particularly reminded me of the very traditional notion of the male artist, who is allowed to fully dedicate himself to his art practice while everything else is organized for him. A clear example is parenthood: in a more traditional setting, a man can return to work almost instantly after having a child, and socially, he won’t be seen as someone doing something wrong, whereas a mother is required to dedicate far more time to early childcare. Socially, it is also expected that a mother would be selfless in her endeavor for care. That particularly disturbed me. I noticed that my own mother had done so much for us. She always told us that it was out of her choice, but sometimes I had this weird feeling she was talked into it—by what she thought she should be doing.
- Extract from Marcios writing during the research week
Drag a neck
by Marcio Kerber Canabarro
We tend to hold our necks. It anchors our horizon by stabilizing our gaze, as the movement of the neck is a continuation of the movement of the eyes. When our visual input is challenged, our neck movement is also disrupted, and vice versa—think about how the world blurs if you move your head too fast. The neck stiffens our movement in an attempt to ground our orientation. It is a fragile bridge between heart and mind, carrying important circulatory vessels, nerves, and airways.
It is also a place of intimacy and might be the conductor of our emotional navigation—many of us get chills at the nape of our necks when we feel someone's breath close to our ears. At the same time, no one wants to be grabbed by the neck, sensing danger. The neck remembers our burdens, yet a relaxed, available neck can grant us restful sleep.
Our ability to navigate, influenced by our neck movements, has contributed to our species’ evolution. Anthropologists say that orientation helped us establish and cultivate large social networks—it allowed us to track locations, share information about food, shelter, and potential dangers, seek support, and find mates. Most of us will never experience extreme situations where our survival depends on precise navigation. Living in large social groups and cities, we eventually find our way around, with help almost always available. Yet, knowing one’s placement and having a sense of direction deeply informs not only our sense of safety but also our sense of purpose. Being lost is cognitively stressful, and metaphorically, being lost in life can create overwhelming emotions. In a way, in this willingness for navigation, we found a love affair with the horizon, our bodies doing what they can to keep our eyes parallel to the ground, aligned with that distant line.
The more I study the visual process and our skill of being guided by light, the more I realize that our entire anatomy is a continuation of our surroundings—a persistent resilience seeking of connection and interaction. The thought of integrating oneself into an environment, regardless of visual accuracy, soothes the adaptive process of being in the world. This reflection has led me to think about loving kinships.
Within this inquiry, we initiate our dances based on practice. We hold each other’s heads, grasp each other’s necks with varying softness, surrender our full weight to be led by the head. The head, a weighted part of the body, is a vector that can summon velocity. Allowing our head to fully rest in someone else's hand is a difficult task—it feels like surrendering the weight of our thoughts and ideas to another. Perhaps this is a way of giving the mind a chance to rest, allowing us to connect with the pulse of our hearts.
Through these studies, our bodies showed us a complex accumulation of emotional signs that mirror the most intimate feelings of love and care. Over time, this practice generates movement material that could exist only because we are together. In this togetherness, we have found that affection is a fragile junction—it meets countless points of friction beyond our bodies. It intertwines with lived experiences, imagined futures, and fictional interpretations of the present. And those invisibilities influence the quality of our touch and the grounds our affection manages to navigate—until it, too, is lost.
About Marcio Kerber Canabarro and Sindri Runudde
Márcio K. Canabarro was born in 1985 in Brazil. He is a dancer and choreographer with a BA in Social Communication, a Performing Major from SEAD, and certification as an Embodied Myoreflex Therapy Practitioner. Márcio is interested in exploring the intersections of narratology, performance, and mindfulness practices. His work focuses on the socio-emotional implications of accessibility—specifically, how cultural biases around vision shape the intimacy, self-esteem, and social roles of blind and visually impaired individuals. Currently, Márcio collaborates with film director and artist Savio Debernardis on Rehearsal Series, an ongoing study that explores auto fiction as a tool for radical honesty and art fragmentation as a means of collaboration and access articulation. Márcio also works as a freelance dancer with Hodworks (HU), CRANKY BODIES/a company (DE), and Meg Stuart/Damaged Goods (BE/DE). In the past, he has collaborated with Benoît Lachambre, Sara Shelton Mann, Mark Tompkins, Keith Hennessy, and others. www.mkerbercanabarro.com
Sindri Runudde is a Swedish dancer and choreographer whose work is characterized by an interdisciplinary and sensory exploration of the body as a living archive. They were educated at the Stockholm University of the Arts and have also received international training in contemporary circus. Sindri’s artistic practice combines dance with sound, storytelling, and visual art, often with a playful and humorous tone that carries deeper perspectives on identity, the body, and perception. They work from a queer and disability rights perspective and are active both in Sweden and internationally, as a solo artist and in collaboration with institutions and independent groups. Sindri has collaborated with institutions such as the Royal Dramatic Theatre (Dramaten) in Stockholm, Stockholm City Theatre, Skånes Dansteater, The 7 Fingers (Les 7 Doigts de la Main), Candoco Dance Company, and Norrlandsoperan Umeå. Sindri is based in Stockholm, and their current work is based on sound archiving and recordings of dance and rehearsals within the project” Rehearsal Radio: Outside Ear”. The upcoming year they are also working as a dancer/performer in n new works by Sidney Leone, Halla Olafsdottir, and Marta Forsberg. In the symposium Bodies of Knowledge: Choreographies of Care Sindri is collaborating with Marcio K. Canabarro in EXTRA SET.