NEITHER PERFORMANCE.
NOR DANCE.
NOR THEATER.

Maikon K works on the edge of different languages. He began studying Dramatic Arts and his academic background encompasses several fields of knowledge: he has a degree in Social Sciences (emphasis on Anthropology of the Theater) and since 2001 has researched means for altering consciousness through body practices and ancestral rites. The core focus of his work is the body and its capacity to change perceptions, influenced by a shamanic perspective in which the performer unfolds himself into several different realities through specific body techniques, using song, non-verbal sound, dance, visual signs and ritualized activities. Your interests are hybrid dramaturgies, abject matters, states of presence and the relations between sacred and profane, grotesque and sublime. In Brasil, he has received several awards and has presented his works in the most important festivals in the country, such as MITsp (Mostra Internacional de Teatro de São Paulo), Cena Contemporânea Brasília, Festival Panorama, FIT Rio Preto. Since 2020 he has been living between Germany and Brazil. Initially he moved to Berlin with support from the Martin Roth Initiative for artists at risk. As part of this program, for a year he was a resident artist at HZT - Hochschulübergreifendes Zentrum Tanz Berlin, where he was able to continue his research interrupted in Brazil due to the censorship. In 2022, he received the Fellowship Weltoffenes Berlin in partnership with Tanzfabrik, to investigate transgressive actions in art. In addition to his solo creations, he also offers workshops and collaborates as a performer and dramaturg for other artists and choreographers.

Being an artist means having no other choice.
It means turning impotence into an outpouring volcano. For the pleasure of pouring out.
An autopsy on a breathing body. Opening this body and seeing the gears working. Relocating the organs.
Distrusting and believing. The muscles, the sweat, the love bleeding.
It's a wormhole. With no way back.
It's an old trinket. It's nothing.
Creating worlds of waste and precious things.
It is physical, and therefore metaphysical. Vulgar and inoperative.
Volatile and insistent. It is suffocating.
It is to pursue death. To stab the last moment.
To lick the floor with patience. It is finally ecstasy.
It’s to cheat limits.
On the edge of the abyss, abandoning a stone. Being the stone. Being the head that receives the stone.
To play with your own guts.
Ridiculous. Guiltless.
To taste the decrepitude.
Neither madness. Nor reality.
It's never a bird, never a whale, never an ant. For a moment, human.
It is an image that is never completed.