Description
Spending hours rehearsing the music of Koki Nakano without being able to exchange a serious conversation is wonderful. No Japanese, no French, no English, no diplomacy, just one territory: the Art of Koki Nakano.
The piano and the cello are summary tools but they have a memory, a DNA, a history and these venerable tools, voluminous and impractical at the time of the dematerialization are wonderful magicians. Thanks to them, without exchanging a word, there are questions, sweat, ardor, laughter, acrobatics, annoyance, fear of doing wrong, the art of doing well, Of plenitude.
In the tiny studio of the Buttes Chaumont where Koki resided, I could with my bow touch the right piano and with the left hand warm water, but on leaving I felt like I was on Mars, Of a lake, in a loft of Berlin, with fairies. The music means nothing and yet it's a matter of life and death for Koki Nakano." - Vincent Segal