Van Dijk’s and Nyen’s exploration of clouds, stability and transience is perhaps most tangible in a brief scene during which a dancer perches himself atop the framed pane of glass and appears to be levitating. Meanwhile, centre stage, two females execute highly physical phrases of movement in unison. The choreography could be described as typical of van Dijk’s artistic practice: in contrast to the illusion of weightlessness beside them, one of each dancer’s feet is always firmly planted on the floor. They use gravity as a productive force, rather than fight against it (as ballet dancers would) to achieve an appearance of lightness.
Lucy Guerin’s latest dance drama offers a tragic take on the consequences of disobedience
The performance commences unannounced when a mob of ominous cloaked figures enter the performance space in darkness then wander on the periphery of a well-lit circle at its centre. As the ‘dark chorus’ of extras endlessly shuffles along its circular path, five featured performers – dancers Benjamin Hancock, Stephanie Lake, Jessie Oshodi, Tyrone Robinson and Lilian Steiner – emerge from the pack in flashes of movement and speech, gesturing abstractly and reciting a hushed text in unison. The atmosphere is arresting, compounded by Robin Fox’s droning score; it’s as if we’re privy to some kind of cult ritual.