The darkness in the last duet clearly puts into perspective both shade and light. And, simultaneously, it makes one listen to and watch a thinking, vibrating body. Everything keeps us in suspense, up to the dancers' breathing, which reminds us, without any doubt, that we must not hesitate to experience the act of "seeing", even where it is the least obvious. An approach too rare to miss.
In Seuls bruits des corps entre eux (1997), written on a sublime musical suite of quartets by Salvatore Sciarrino, diffuse eroticism is suggested by the mystery of gestures and the curving of bodies, dressed in tight silk costumes that appear to be just underwear. Does the title of the piece itself evoke the original music, a music of a primitive scene, causing spasms to subtly take possession of the visual and sonorous propositions? Olga de Soto sees this piece as a self-portrait: does she mean a portrait of the female body trapped in the eerie intervals between the carnal stimuli in prejudiced intimacy, or of the body absorbed in the reading of its own brilliantly shimmering reflection?
Olga de Soto and Pascale Gigon distinguish themselves brilliantly when they let the Sei quartetti brevi by Salvatore Sciarrino resonate through their bodies. On a darkened stage, the calligraphy of the movement remains indiscernible because only a few fragments of the body are illuminated. Between shade and twilight the dance, merely suggested, conveys an idea of absolute beauty.
Ch. Caupin, Olga de Soto: Silence and Chaos, Danser (FR), January 1998
The moment of grace of this "Été des Hivernales" was brought by Olga de Soto, a Spanish dancer established in Belgium. Whether she elaborates it alone or in duet (with Pascale Gigon), her language, which is very pure, creates a shiver in the half-light, the rustling of life. Her musical choices (of contemporary composers such as Salvatore Sciarrino or Denis Pousseur) are of an unusual quality.
Emmanuèle Rüegger, Les Hivernales d'été, Ballet 2000 No. 2-3
As to Olga de Soto, one could see her and see her again without being exhausted, so much her dance is musical. Whether she talks about a secret relation in a semi-darkness, nearest to the microscopic, or shines out in furious movements of the hips on Frederic Rzewski's ravaging music, or murmurs solitary on a composition by Denis Pousseur, what comes out is pure joy. Simplicity combined with wisdom.