In botany the Italian word “gemma” (gem) signifies the shoot of the seedling; in zoology it’s the budding of a new being; and finally in mammals “gemma” is the accumulation of cellular elements from which the embryo is born. A gem is a precious stone; Gemma is also the name of my grandmother, from whom I descended.
Gemma is a dance solo, a minute liturgy of transfiguration, an interior garden of memories in metamorphosis. A body in search of form, Gemma passes through different states of being, slowly configuring and reconfiguring herself until, human corporeality achieved, she dances our fragile steps upon the earth. She moves from within, from beneath her skin, hearing an ancient memory, in search of a gesture that measures both proximity and distance in relation to herself, to space, to all she sees, to the flower that accompanies her, bearing silent witness to her metamorphosis. Body, space, sound, light, and video give life to the dancer’s fleeting incarnations, weaving together the imagination’s plotlines. Gemma is a simple promise: a vow to live, a tribute to life.