London

An empty stage. Neutral lighting. A square mat. Suddenly, a woman (Sung Im Her, the choreographer and company director) finds her way onto it and begins to move — in silence, cautiously at first, then with growing boldness. Nothing tells you the show has started. No lights dimming, no cue. Like life itself, it just begins — without asking for permission. As she leaves the stage, six performers arrive. They are the constant of the piece, the small society around which everything revolves. Their presence shapes the next fifty minutes: movement as language, relationships as rhythm. There’s something intriguing in watching them evolve, not through character but through tension, proximity, imitation. The soundscape by Husk Husk and Lucy Duncan is kept to a disconcerting minimum — alternat...