Journal

Oddly weird, oddly compelling. Mar 28, 2014

by Lisa Liedgren

How does one find words to describe BeginAgain after just having watched sixty minutes of unbearable lightness of being?

You don't. And that is precisely the beauty. There is quietness about what has been observed. Nothing to be said, nothing to be done or understood. I only need to trust my imminent and natural responses to what I see, hear, smell and feel. What's unfolding in front of me is a series of physical, repetitive, rhythmic and doll-like movements mixed in with heavily symbolic elements: soil, water, smoke and bodily expressions of rituals. The visual language is a mix of cinematic nostalgia, moody nature and symmetrical cutout imagery all presented from multiple angles. Enveloped in this tactical space are bodies moving up, down left and right, through and between large screens on stage.

While these feminine and sculptural creatures are twisting and turning it strikes me that of all the artistic expressions I can think of – writing, music, visual art – dance outdoes them all in its immediate quality and impression of feeling trapped. Stuck in one’s owns body, for better or worse. At times I sense a kind of no-way-out, which is why I feel less melancholic watching two or three dancers moving in harmony together (thank you, classical ballet). When contemplating on this, I’m being pulled out from my spinning mind and I hear sound building, volume dropping. This unpretentious spectacle is growing on me. It is trying to tell me something, and just when it is about to, it collapses only to begin again. And so it goes. Until innocence itself appear manifested as a young male in the form of a suit, blond hair and an angelic voice. And just like that, suddenly it's all over and I find myself walking out looking up at a star-filled sky from lower Queen Anne conceding that I have been part of something extraordinary ordinary this evening. 

Or maybe it is the other way around.

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