“I have a recu­rring dream whe­re all my teeth keep falling out. They say it reflects something coming to an end… It may well fit one of tho­se moments when we find our­sel­ves at a cross­roads: which path do we lea­ve behind? Which to choo­se? I feel the need and desi­re to shed the har­de­ned outer layers and attend to tho­se other endea­vours that remain in the sha­dow, on the mar­gins, or in the drafts. Moments of con­fu­sion, with no clear direc­tion, have been piling up. And now…? What to do, which way to turn, how to adapt?”

CROSSROAD No. 40 is a tur­ning point expe­rien­ced firsthand by Myriam Perez Caza­bon: a flood of ques­tions about one­self and one’s surroundings.

Upon tur­ning 45, and with more than 20 years in the pro­fes­sion, it is an exer­ci­se in reca­lling one’s own tra­jec­tory: a loo­king back in order to look for­ward, or a re-envi­sio­ning. As part of a long-term pro­cess of review, dee­pe­ning, and expan­sion, it is also a con­ti­nuous way of being and doing along the path: a soli­tary pas­sa­ge through diver­se thoughts, actions, and landscapes.

The sim­pli­city and soli­dity of the sim­ple act of being in the pre­sent and remai­ning in time, the vul­ne­ra­ble natu­re of the creator/performer, and the cons­truc­tion of lands­ca­pes tied to poe­tics and the ima­gi­nary, com­bi­ne in this inti­ma­te mani­fes­to sta­ged as a solo

The reflec­tions and lands­ca­pes tra­ver­sed in the per­for­man­ce are com­ple­men­ted by a pho­to­graphic ins­ta­lla­tion pre­sen­ted as a prologue/epilogue, inten­ded to pave the way toward a more per­ma­nent rela­tionship with the audience.

The­re is always a new path. Another path…