This is extraordinary. But, beware, because it’s also full of big, sad feels. Which, if you’re empathetic, you might enjoy…
I’m not sure about that idea of pleasure in/from the sadness. I’m not sure that ‘it exists at a safe distance’. But it is beautiful.
This was another of the pieces that I, unfortunately, despite the best-laid plans, wasn’t able to attend.
However, I passed on my ticket to another and they had some interesting things to say about it. Paraphrased and run through my interpretation-machine:
Interesting. Minimal. No fires. Open field near water. Dark but could make out mountains on the horizon in the moonlight
Was Mike Parr there? Someone saying 1 2 3 4 at beginning and the end. Seated performers.
Audience had an interesting take on quiet. Whispering at the performance border or moving off a bit to talk. Turned around later and saw people/bodies scattered around the field – some laying down. Was reaching my cold limit. Saw people in hoodies and shorts…
I’m still sorry I missed it. Though I’m not sure how I would have responded to the endurance challenge. Hopefully, I would have rugged up and just given myself over to it. It all sounds quite ‘spare’.
My best-laid plans to be in Hobart for Dark Mofo this year fell apart. Happily, I was still able to experience a little of the festival elsewhere in Tasmania courtesy of The Crossing, a project by the unconscious collective. I’m even in the little video snippet below :)
- The shadow cast by Miles Brown’s theremin playing hand onto his face. It was like a live animation. Surely intentional.
- Moments of feeling like this could all be an act at The Bang Bang Bar.
- Alexander Hacke & Danielle de Picciotto; e.g.:
- Wondering what testing, if any, you need to do before playing big, dense music in a ‘found’ venue such as this. My ear drums were crackling – I wonder if all those stained glass windows were too…
- Amusing myself waiting for the show to begin: