At points, they rush out to the audience to cover them with a canvas, almost like a chid with a blanket-tent at a sleepover. As the cover is pulled away, the dancers stay stuck in their reaching shapes, creating a new architecture to apprehend, the constricted stillness made starker through the contrast of their previously busy bodies. In amongst this playful sculpting, one dancer covered in luridly painted cardboard moves, ever so slowly, around the edge. Painting comes alive.
Indeed, there’s such a finely tuned aliveness in the performance, I wonder if the dancers likewise change their roles or positions for each performance. All of the performers take their tasks of remoulding the space with care and without too much solemnity; their interactions with front row audience members are kind and gently conspiratorial as they ask them to pick a line of text from one of the books on art theory they offer around the room. Later in the performance, the audiences’ selections will be read out by one of the dancers, now topless, who is smeared with blue paint by another performer.
comments