As its title suggests, “Unstill Life” is a portrait that becomes animated with gesture and lowkey dance moves under a painterly glow of lighting created by Kathy Kaufmann. It’s a study in economy—every flick of wrist and tilt of chin is evidence of the way less is more. In an elegant duet, Jenkins and Eckert stand side by side and conduct hand gestures in unison. They each place a thumb to an opposing cheekbone, close a palm around the eye as if to gather it within a fist, then fling the contents out, rubbing fingers together to remove a clinging residue. 

All five performers remain onstage for the duration, receding into shadow when not actively centerstage. While Jaroslow performs a solo, for instance, Jenkins and Shick lean their forearms against the side wall like a pair of women sharing a cigarette outside a bar. Shick in particular adds a striking full body precision and clarity to the mix. When a small ripple plays across the ribs of her back, it becomes headline news. She moves a hand to her hip and steals the scene completely. Shick also acts as a thread to interlace the various duos and trios, moving the group in a new direction by gliding her arm along a shoulder or placing her fist to a sternum to initiate a step back. 

Only near the end of the show are we made privy to the project’s rules for engagement. Actress Kathleen Chalfant delivers in voiceover a list written by Eckert that includes such statements as, “Nothing concrete. Nothing abstract. Avoid novelty. Nothing familiar. No observation. No cynicism. Nothing that can be interpreted. Some things are allowed: Volume. Force. Pressure. Speed. Other things may be present: Hunger. Joy. Bafflement.”

No narrative, yet I see meaning everywhere. Fluttering fingers are bird wings beating. Cupping a chin suggests contemplation, a palm to the face could signal distress. Why does Shick use a fist rather than the flat of her palm to nudge Jaroslow’s sternum? The conversations are intimate, each performer speaking their own peculiar language. They echo, bump, interrupt, and intersect with both careful attention and the spontaneity of chance. How much is improvised and how much is set?