Sylvain Lepoivre: Drom

“Drom” is the word for "the road" in Romani, the language of the traveler community. It is also a metaphor for their entire culture. A culture of movement, the elusive, transition, and providence. A culture where music, singing, dance, and mystery are much more than folklore; they are a way of life, a way of existing.

I didn’t know the “Drom,” and yet it has always been present in me – mainly through my father’s anecdotes. How my great-grand-uncle became a bear tamer, traveling from village to village; how my bohemian great-grandmother was born in a “car” (as stated on her French birth certificate, although it was more of a caravan), and how she read palms; how my father himself inherited her gift of clairvoyance; how he could announce a birth by placing his hands on a belly, or how he could predict death; and how he claimed, when looking at me, this gift had been passed on to one of his children.

My family's misfortune is that we left the “Drom” two generations ago. By leaving the road, my family lost more than its identity. It lost its vital fluid. As if this entire culture could not exist without the fuel of travel. My father became violent, alcoholic, and maladapted. The only way he could still live the road was by telling me about it. And this is how I inherited the absence of the “Drom.”

Why do I feel the absence of something I have never known? What is this culture of the “Drom,” this energy, this fluid my ancestors, especially my father, lost when they left the road? Does the “Drom” still live somewhere within me? If so, could I rediscover it and share it on stage?

I hold the image of a campsite: A central hearth, a caravan, everyday objects. I hold the image of the “Jenische,” the entertainer, the fairground performer, who gathers the audience around his camp with great mystery, seduction, storytelling, and extravagance.

On stage, I want to create a setup where the energy of the “Drom” can resurface. I want to bring my great-grandmother back to life, who used seduction and mystery to survive. I want to introduce my great-grand-uncle, the bear tamer, and I want to see the bear. I want to reconnect with my father, to make the audience feel his pain of absence. And I want to find a new way to live the “Drom” in the 21st century.