The scent of the space dowsed. Smouldering something unseen.
The moment the audience quickly quietens, threads of conversation thinning enough feel uncomfortable at the sound of one’s voice, and so a steep drop off to readiness.
Piano. Feather. Fur. Flowers. All eyes. Standing to different kinds of attention.
Bouncy stamping suspending time light but shunting. Bare midriff solo dancer dancing forward a language, or signalling to.
Rhythm infection-bids for attention and facing off, playing at angers. Feels of mimicry - that real display of showing something other than oneself, at play with something.
Confrontation rhythm of the gaze all at the audience, the address is strong.
Then slapping too - self-aware and deliberate. Demonstration and/ or this embodiment. Skin reddening. So much the image of a child’s desire to show and be seen. Consequence. Dare performed drained. Doing the same thing is to inscribe it.
We are anyway in the ceremony of theatre, even if place cannot be revealed in me in this moment. My limits, and their crotchy bird creatures rubbing and guiding invisible obstacles between their legs. Bewilderment.
Does it hurt them? Where will the threat come from? The eyes seem to ask - the very studio white floor and wall invaded by other spaces through the darting of eyes and doing of faces. A woman in the front row takes a selfie with the lighting rig.
Then the thought that everyone is suffering. The no-cartilage piano is also a string instrument. Where can the intensity go? The pianist’s insistence on the tight space stab of repetition. How movement is sound. The curve of her back, her leg straight out into the body of the instrument. Tone.
Lighting changes the red of the leggings, holey. Everyone is somehow porous. Propositions of rhythms jar and hurt.
Floor starfish and blind-mouthed licking are happening. Exasperation is displayed. I ask myself the name of the final colour - a blue something that doesn’t stay so long. All that happening in the last moments. Fur bits and fan bits remain and some of the reds are restored.
A no to homogeneity perhaps. My categories cannot be engaged.
Janine for DRAFF