The dance grew into a colorful flower bouquet which caught and contained the glow of sun-happy summer days, the secret of star-studded nights, and the wistful sweetness of overcast and rainy hours. — Mary Wigman Copy Share Image
Sometimes at night I slipped into the studio and worked myself up into a rhythmic intoxication to come closer to the slowly rising character. I could feel how everything pointed toward a clearly defined dance figure. The richness of rhythmic… — Mary Wigman Copy Share Image
I knew that, without killing the creative mood, I had to keep the balance between my emotional outburst and the merciless discipline of a… — Mary Wigman Copy Share Image
In all my unhappiness I was moving, and suddenly, this moving became an expression, a speaking out — Mary Wigman Copy Share Image
Art is communication spoken by man for humanity in a language raised above the everyday happening. — Mary Wigman Copy Share Image
If I could say with words what my dances express, I wouldn’t have a reason to dance. — Mary Wigman Copy Share Image
The dance grew into a colorful flower bouquet which caught and contained the glow of sun-happy summer days, the secret of star-studded nights, and… — Mary Wigman Copy Share Image
Sometimes at night I slipped into the studio and worked myself up into a rhythmic intoxication to come closer to the slowly rising character.… — Mary Wigman Copy Share Image
