Watching dark matters (Aerowaves: titles and aftertastes)

It is a tricky era to watch contemporary dance. Citizens of our European Hu(r)mano union appear All dressed up with nowhere to go – they ramble either in the FIELD or the Lowland (because the shelter of 30 Cecil Street is closed). The FOG makes everything MONO. Whatever you try to ZOOM looks Manlike, and it takes Time Takes The Time Time Takes to distinguish between an ancient Relic or wild Soilgirl. Both Miss Lithuania and M.E.N. are troubled: Chivalry is dead and they have to accept their Conditions of Being a Mortal Movements I & III. No matter if you join global Heretics, Idiot-Syncrasy or are drawn in BAKKHEIA º dancing on the edge, you’ll feel like One step before the fall. There is a universal existential urge for Aurora to rescue our caged Bokko-souls.

If society had an interrogation spotlight shone in its face, would it admit, that inside there is a huge mess, croaking, wheezing, snorting, screaming, brawling and rummaging around? Like a restless goblin, it keeps adding to the chaos. Any seeking of sense fails in the vastness of misty craziness. We live with limited hope for survival, in a world where everything is based on competing and people are blinded by the blinkers of convention. All that’s left are bits and pieces of killed warriors. As in the political context of today, the possibility to just passively leave the battlefield like an artist exits the stage is mission impossible.

The works shown during Spring Forward mirror our time: dealing with anger born of insecurity, stupidity, apathy and lack of thinking and direction. As members of an oddball party, we rave and riot in the madness of multiplied realities. Inevitably, borders get crossed. The iconic Scream by Munch becomes lucid – what else can you do when experiencing expulsion from paradise backwards (as if the life we live now, with proper shirts on, was a constant crucifixion with no chance of turning back).

Nonetheless, there are some potential survivors: spectators at a great performance are blessed like anthropologists, able, for a while, to sneak into the cinematic lives of unknown and marvellous, other worldly, creatures. Those diverse beings still have genuine contact with each other, and, respecting the past, they simultaneously own the invaluable know-how to good-naturedly laugh about their own origins and secrets. They live in pleasant simplicity, are brave enough to put a bare foot on the ground for the first time and seem to be indifferent to not fitting in with the crowd. Moreover, those romping hoydens are keen on creating illusive motion images, ready to hypnotise and hunt the viewer in a new, visual experience: resembling the unprecedented appearance of a contemporary android, a divine Madonna.

Isn’t it fascinating to discover, that we are still interested in dwarfs and are willing to engage with the remedial mixture of kindness and naivety, thus diving into bountiful oceans of associations and thoughts? Like scientists rediscovering rare species – we are fully dedicated to the miracle for just as long as it lasts.

Elina Cire