THE WAIT SERIES ARCHIVE: NO END FACE ON FIGURE THIS STILL TEST
 NO END NO END , Tramway, Glasgow Review by Susannah Radford, Z.N.A Blog 19 March 2013 NO END TO HER TALENT - It takes guts to put on a show like No End. In some ways bare, but certainly not slight, Glasgow choreographer and performer Anna Krzystek uses what is simple content to great effect in a thoroughly engaging show full of intelligence and humour. Moving between two sets of movement phrases, it’s highly repetitive. Weight shifts like a pendulum from one foot to another as Krzystek moves from one position to another and then slowly, over the period of an hour, new movements are introduced. Yet describing it so does it no justice at all. Individually the movements are simple yet collectively over time their meaning and weight increases. The last in a series of five pieces, No End explores the premise of waiting. With the smallest swivel of her hips Krzystek expresses, to my mind, the restlessness of waiting for a bus. She is always in motion and as the piece progresses it seems even pauses are pregnant with action. Waiting is usually associated with inaction but as No End balances the barest of pauses against almost near constant movement it seemed there really is no rest, no end to an active, restless waiting. It is clean movement, without embellishment and performed with precision. To keep this methodical rhythm of movement up over an hour must be challenging but Krzystek maintains a rhythm which is metronomic. Her face too is set in its concentration. It can’t be read which means that mood and emotion are generated by movement as opposed to facial expression, or music for that matter. And yet this magnifies the effect. A change in direction becomes significant, at other times certain movements, like one resembling jazz hands, becomes very funny. Throughout the piece Krzystek poses questions which challenges the audience further. What is time? What is truth? What is authenticity? Using a sequence of movement more at home in a rehearsal room than on stage, it managed to surprise and answer the question what is movement? In one new movement towards the end of the piece, Krzystek opens her arms and raises her sternum heavenwards and it looks like the birth of dance. No End is not an easy watch as it requires a high degree of concentration from its audience. But it’s also controlled, brave and unpretentious; an honest exploration from a performer of great commitment. I hope there is no end to Krzystek’s exploring. NO END , Tramway, Glasgow Review by Mary Brennan, Glasgow Herald Monday 4 March 2013 Anna Krzystek says No End is the fifth and final piece in her series of solos exploring "waiting in countless dimensions". We will now wait in hopes that she changes her mind. Step by carefully considered step, this fascinating progression of inter-disciplinary studies has taken Krzystek and her audience in directions few other UK-based artists have the courage, or the ability (technically and intellectually) to pursue. In common with earlier episodes, No End demands focused concentration. On Krzystek's part this means a meticulous adherence to the timing of every detail, whether that is an isolated gesture, such as the shifting angle of a limb or a phrase involving weight transference through a to-and-fro side-stepping initially on the spot. In the course of an hour, she builds – and diminishes – cycles of movement that begin with feet and legs then percolate through the rest of her body. Meanwhile a silent monitor broadcasts a black and white close-up of her face: this too, will alter – not just zooming in, but occasionally flicking to a different profile, a snow-clad mountain range. At the same time Tom Murray's soundscore crackles and murmurs, pings and judders, Kryzstek's voice breaking in with a "what is ...?" questioning of art, reality and authenticity. You have to concentrate. Pay close attention and those nuanced details jigsaw together into an immense consideration of how we measure, perceive and express time on a personal and cosmic level – and how art (in various forms) can feed into that experience and, as with No End, provocatively enrich it. NO END (5 MINUTE EXCERPT)
FACE ON FACE ON, New Territories International Festival of Live Art, Review by Mary Brennan, 9 March 2011 Krzystek’s total immersion in the physicality and intention of every nuance is like a magnet. You watch, riveted by the channelling of ideas through rigorously focused limbs. The wonderment at her technical prowess and the scope of the material kicks in afterwards – and, believe me, that impact doesn’t fade with the years. Face On is the fourth instalment in Krzystek’s ongoing encounter with the nature of being, and performing. Daniela De Paulis’s videos – shown, feet apart, on two monitors – offer monochrome glimpses of Krzystek’s face in various facets, including a fleeting smile. Tom Murray’s soundscore crackles and alarms across shifts of pace and decibel stridency. Within this carefully mapped-out framework, the black-clad Krzystek fills an unstinting hour with choreographed motifs that sometimes isolate movement in one part of her backwards-travelling body, sometimes send movement coursing through her like an electric current and sometimes propel her in all directions before her gaze, as ever, returns to confront us. It’s a multi-dimensional jigsaw of profound concepts, captured images and real-time performance that has shared experience at its visionary core. INTERVIEW WITH ANNA KRZYSTEK Laura Cameron Lewis - The Scotsman 8 March 2011 “I was 16 years old, in a gym hall with lots of other kids, and there was a dancer doing this abstract movement to a soundscore,” recalls Anna Krzystek of the moment that sealed her choice of career. “The kids were all screaming and shouting and throwing things at this poor performer and I thought, that’s it. This is what I want to do with my life.” Told with an impish smile, this story reveals a lot about Krzystek, a quiet, reflective but incredibly strong performer who has boldly done her own thing regardless of people’s reactions. In the dance world, where women’s bodies are subjected to intense critical scrutiny, Krzystek is a rarity. After years of honing her craft she is now in international demand, but as a young woman she was repeatedly told she wasn’t tall enough, thin enough, flexible enough or pretty enough to be a dancer. It’s a success that has constantly inspired me in my job at the Work Room in Glasgow - where Kryzstek (who is actually strikingly beautiful) has developed two of her shows - and it seems particularly worth celebrating today, on International Women’s Day. Not one of those stage school kids, Krzystek didn’t attend dance classes as a child growing up in East London and says she wasn’t interested in anything artistic. “Maybe I’m wrong in saying that,” she adds, reconsidering. “As a child I was always one of life’s observers so that aspect was there from day one. There’s always been something, within me, about looking out at the world as if it were a big installation, finding how things connect.” But in the gym hall that day something changed irrevocably for Krzystek. In that dancer’s challenging performance she experienced a sharp break with the world she already knew. "It created a space to breathe and to think, like being in a clearing, and I could be myself." Krzystek’s devotion is almost monastic. On a typical rehearsal day she rises at 6am, reads and then goes to work in the dance studio for eight hours before going home again to work on her admin and reflect on the day’s work. She rarely takes a day off over the 12 weeks of studio time, and combining that with preparation and reflection it takes the best part of a year to make one of her performances. She is renowned for her fastidiousness and attention to detail, in the exquisite painterly atmospheres of her live performances. Krzystek has a deep respect for her audience, and each performance is the chance for her to offer them a new perspective, a clearing. Krzystek’s new show, Face On, is the most intimate and challenging work she has made so far. “Nothing is hidden, it’s all there to be seen and I’m facing up to those consequences,” she says. “As a performer I’m co-existing with a filmed sequence and a soundscore. It awakens your sensibilities that things can happen in the same space and time." Performances like Face On offer an experience of openness and a place for personal and political contemplation, “It’s about exploring ways of co-existing in the world,” she says. Krzystek’s ideas on co-existence are inextricably connected to her desire for tolerance, and for difference to be celebrated. "I had an immense connection with the dancer performing her abstract work in the gym hall, but the majority of my peers at the time didn't - but there should never be a preconceived idea of what people may or may not like. People can make up their own minds in their own time. We don't have to arrive at the whole picture straight away, it can keep leading us on to somewhere else." Face On is at Tramway, Glasgow, tonight, as part of the New Territories festival. Laura Cameron Lewis is creative co-ordinator of Tramway-based dance space The Work Room. TOP
STILL STILL, Toynbee Studios, London Review by Chris Goode www.beescope.blogspot.com 9 October 2007 I was at Toynbee Studios last night (or, as it emerged mangled from the memorybanks of one of my students earlier in the day, T-Bone Studios) for a showing of work by the dancer/choreographer Anna Krzystek and the filmmaker Lucy Cash. It was one of the most enthralling and exciting evenings out I've had in a long while. Still is a 45-minute piece which places a solo performer (Krzystek) in a room with five video monitors (showing material by Cash) and a sound artist, Tom Murray, live-mixing a prepared score. Sitting, as it does, exactly on the virgule between installation and performance, or standing on both sides of it perhaps, it is partly an excercise in the manipulation of attention: a performer drawing and giving away attention, as well as giving it herself to the other elements of the piece, which she uses partly to orient herself. The body starts out as barely-present and somewhat object-like, but slowly (and expensively) uses the currents of spectatorial attention in the room to claim a constrained expressivity. The video images show views of and isolated elements within a room not dissimilar to the one we are actually in, but not the same; the domestic character and details of the video room also participate in the exercise of drawing and dispelling attention. In common with Krzystek's previous piece, which I didn't see, one theme is waiting: and she speaks eloquently and intriguingly afterwards about how the domestic objects that the camera dwells on are also 'waiting' -- for human intervention: the telephone waiting to ring, the lamp waiting to be switched on, the plug socket in the wall... There is a warmth to this which somewhat alleviates a (by no means unattractive) starkness in the rest of the aesthetic. The sound score mostly consists of penetrating sines, introduced, subtly altered (e.q., I think, and certainly panning) and then withdrawn; there is a structral matrix determining much of the activity, a series of time regions and of tasks, five sections of nine minutes, each further subdivided in interlocking frames. There is a remarkable formal clarity to the piece which comes across strikingly even before the structure is explained, but also a deeply human(e) tenor. The sense of effort, of slight confusion, of loss of centre, of submission, in the performer is cumulatively moving and important. One particularly touching repeated gesture is the abrupt withdrawal of the electronic sound at some moments, at which points very often Krzystek's exhausted breathing is suddenly audible, both rhythmically continuous with the geometries of the piece and infinitely more faulty and therefore more intimate. Long periods of near-stillness and near-silence near the end, which demand as much of the audience as of both performers, are followed by a condensed, slightly puzzling coda which brilliantly reclaims some measure of privacy for the authors, lest the plain legibility, the near-transparency, of much of the activity should too quickly allow the complex human agency in the work to be dissipated or undervalued. It is exactly the right ending to exactly the right piece. A concluding discussion led by the filmmaker Miranda Pennell was generously illuminating, finding its own pitch and pace and acutely focused on unfolding rather than pinning-down, and on the expansive (and the searching) rather than the competitive. I could have happily sat there for the rest of the evening, listening and talking and enjoying. STILL, New Territories, Tramway, Glasgow Review by Mary Brennan - The Herald 20 February 2007 Dance artists who feature in Nikki Millican's New Territories usually have a radically bold take on choreographic practice. The opening programme certainly side-stepped the mainstream with persuasive conviction, producing work that rewarded necessary concentration by sending our thoughts and imaginings into energising freefall. STILL, choreographed and performed by Anna Krzystek, with live sound score by Tom Murray and film by Lucy Cash, pitches in between a solo of thrillingly controlled, starkly delineated movement and an art installation. Five monitors, ranged across the space, pass around shifting images of another room in another time. Real time is punctuated by high pitched pulses, low dronings, outbursts of abrasively scratchy noise. Within this context, Krzystek's body writes her repeating loops of precise action: head pivoting in detailed searches, foot probing and mapping the floor, every move a study in uncluttered, poised intensity, the moments of stillness every bit as compelling. It's as if you're spying on different dimensions at once - and it's fascinating. FIGURE THIS TRILOGY (Test, Still, Figure This), Tramway, Glasgow Review by Mary Brennan, The Herald 18 March 2009 **** Hands on hips, Anna Krzystek stands centre stage and gazes, unblinkingly, ahead of her. She holds the space - the dark oblong of Tramway 4 - and us in the sheer force-field of her sustained stillness. When she moves, that magnetic pull shifts gear but never loses concentration: a long balance, fixed on one leg, seems to stop time while sequences of rapid, repetitive steps - done over and over with a determined precision - generate an aura of profound meditation coupled with a flow of fierce, kinetic energy that is, at its core, purely cosmic. No-one in Scotland, or the UK for that matter, originates work like the trilogy Krzystek presented on Wednesday night. Three solos - Test (2005), Still (2007) and Figure This (2008) - each lasting 45 minutes, asserted not only Krzystek's mental and physical stamina, but her capacity for the kind of intellectual processes that few choreographers are equipped to explore. She cites the premise of waiting' as the starting point that connectsall three solos. She begins with her own presence, clad always in a simple black tunic, then engages stillness and motion in various conjunctions with sound scores (devised throughout by Tom Murray) or videos that spool on floor-level monitors. As movements and pace, sound and visual images alter, Krzystek's choreography delves into fascinating aspects of time and space - glimpsing her on screen even as she performs on stage brilliantly catches notions of now and then/here and there'. The new solo, the physically demanding and meticulously detailed Figure This, has a humorous sound score punctuated with ecstatic applause. Krzystek's trilogy certainly merits our bravos - as does the New Territories' decision to commission and support this exceptional, radical talent. FIGURE THIS Anna Krzystek, Tramway, Glasgow, Review by Robert Beaton 18March 2009 One could go on for a long time about the genius and wonderful execution of Anna Krzystek’s dance performance: she was absolutely superb! But, there was much more happening in Tramway 4 than a bunch of us watching Anna dance. This is a work that brings audience and performer into the same shared force-field to meet with real-live intelligence in the setting of the theatre. This dance trilogy plays with our perceptions and perspectives of performance as well as concepts of transformation or resolution. Playfully and perplexingly we are engaged in ideas current in contemporary field theory and as ancient as medieval alchemy. I entered Tramway 4, somewhat expecting just to be in an audience to view an ‘ontologically separate and distinct’ performance across a notion of a proscenium arch and on a staged set. Before sitting down, I noticed that the performance had already started; the figure was already on stage. I began to feel that my getting seated, before this still stage-presence, was part of the night’s show. There was also a sense of looking into momentary presences in the more remote and contained spaces seen in the videos images on the television picture tubes. In the audience, sitting up front, on the edge just to stage left, I watched the back of grey wizard-haired Tom Murray. He sat focussed over a sound table array of knobs, switches and laptop images silently and continually adjusting, turning, reaching out, looking outwards into the happening onstage and then back again to push, pull, twist and turn to the adjusters. The stage was as a vessel or test-tube containing the matter to be transformed and Tom, the Conductor responding to the process of change before him. A teenager of the 60’s, I felt as if I were witness to an experiential happening about 20th century TV tube technology. Then, I was aware that as an audience, we were experiencing what it might be like to be in inside a TV or radio cathode tube – a modern day alchemical retort, noisily buzzing with a century of canned figures of musical harmony and discord, moving and still-life, news and entertainment, the trace of an actual smile and the repeated recording of an applause. Anna’s strong embodied presence responded to all of these. We were, in effect, experiencing being in the same experimental container with the figure, undergoing a bewildering bombardment of sound, no sound, movement, no movement, motion forwards and backwards, repetition and chaos. Tramway 4 had become a giant test-tube and both audience and performance, the matter inside it being changed by the noise of life. In the end, after three-in-a-row dance pieces, the figure, not only had endured but stood as a transformed presence looking back at us, luminous and golden in the blackness of the stage; and we, the audience, revitalised by the process.
FIGURE THIS (1 MINUTE EXCERPT)
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A CHIASMA OF CHANGES stillness and vast landscapes in Anna Krzystek's choreography An Essay by Annoka Tudeer 2004 1 Stubborness is not regarded as a virtue - we live in a time when ‘dynamic flexibility’ is what's desirable. But replace stubborn with persistent and we can start to embrace the idea. Where the word stubborn creates a negative image of petulance and awkwardness, persistence speaks of determination and dedication. So, to be stubborn and persistent is at the core of any successful artist; not giving up, persisting in one’s ideas and the furthering of them. In Anna Krzystek's case, persistence is also part of the aesthetic of her choreography. The choreography is persistently continual, like a chiasm by Enschlers where the structure never ends. The images she creates on stage are persistently etching themselves onto the retina of the viewer, staying there long after the images no longer exist in real time. Looking at Anna Krzystek's body of work I am more reminded of visual arts than dance. This says more about the state dance is in at the moment, with dance pieces so often like fast-food entertainment, than an actual blurring of genres. Because it is very much dance Anna Krzystek is working with, basically adhering to the idea of abstract shape in space, always taking the work somewhere where the abstract shapes give rise to strong atmospheres, associations and even a feeling of sublimity. 2 ABSTRACT SHAPES IN SPACE What do we mean by abstract shapes in space besides sculptures? Although Anna Krzystek's work might be considered spare and sculpturesque, I would rather say that the work consists of a dense texture of intricate patterns of never-ending movement. The movements themselves stem from distinctly articulated parts in the body. The directions of the movement cast invisible lines into space. Twisting of the torso, lifting of legs, circling the head and upper body, sudden falls, balances that lead into a surprising direction, as well as the frequent use of pedestrian movements ñ walking and standing as part of the oeuvre, might sound like a lot of action. Well, there is and there is not, which makes the work so thrilling. Despite the clarity of the movements in her work they are rarely laden with meaning. You could even say that the movement is kept at an austere distance from the dancer dancing it. This relationship between the movement and the dancer creates an inherent tension. And now you can answer Keats’ question whether you can differ between the dancer and the dance with a confident yes. Yes, you can discern between the dancer and the dance whilst watching the two dancers moving through the duets Zero Into The Void and Stripped or watching Anna Krzystek dancing the solo The Wait. You can also discern between the movement, the space and the tempo being used. The entities are never blurred but distinct in their own right, and yet they are all part of the same universe ñ the same work. 3 Instead of movements conveying meaning it is the combinations of the most essential compositional tools - rhythm and structure that creates meaning in Anna Krzystek's work. One can of course claim that any movement per definition is an abstraction, since movements convey an idea or become a symbol or a sign. Whereas movement as a sign creating meaning is frequently used in today's conceptual dance, I would argue that Anna Krzystek's use of movement is somewhat different. She creates a texture with the individual movements where all the parts of the composition creates meaning. Although the movements are precise, they are not precious. They have a light quality surrounding them that gives you the impression that if one lift of the leg doesn’t work another one could substitute it. What is not that interchangeable is the positions and directions on stage in relation to the possible objects on stage, the space itself as well as the other dancer ñ in the case when there is another dancer, as in Zero Into The Void (2000) and Stripped (2002). ON CHANGES AND PERCEPTION Anna Krzystek's Cunningham and Cage background is visible in the use of the body in the space, as well as in the feeling of unpredictability. The jagged and even erratic rhythm creates an atmosphere of being on the edge. You recognise the sequences and the movements, but when they reoccur they are presented from a slightly different perspective. There is always something recognisable and yet something new being conjured. This change of perception gives rise to a sense of fascinating uncanniness. The basic concept running through her work, whether it’s an idea of a ground hog day as in Stripped or waiting as in The Wait, is the foundation of the visual world and the atmosphere pervading the choreography. The usually simple and therefore beautiful structure of the pieces is the solid foundation. They don’t follow an Aristotelian structure where after the climax the piece is resolved into a profound change. 4 Nevertheless, change is very much part of Anna Krzystek's work. In the duet Zero Into the Void the changes occur subtly and gradually in front of your very eyes, you are not even aware of them taking place before the balance of the two dancers have already shifted in space. Despite every moment being fully exposed to the watching eye in the slowly changing light, you haven’t actually seen the changes happening. In Zero Into The Void I am taken by the subtle changes occurring throughout the piece in the vein of a conjurer: now you see it, now you don’t. All of a sudden the dancers have travelled across the stage, changing places without you even realising that it happened, or all of a sudden they are doubling up in a twin position. Anna Krzystek plays joyful tricks with perception to the extent that although the dancers seem to be still, they are always moving. In Stripped small changes are also happening inside and during the three sections of the piece. However, the major changes occur between the parts. There is a radical, even brutal change of lighting and space. The changes play as much with perception as in the previous piece but in a quite different way. First the dancers are dancing close to the audience in a restricted area screened off by light. The first stunning change happens as both dancers stand with their backs to the audience on the border of the darkness when suddenly the light changes. Now they are facing the light, standing there like negatives from the previous picture with darkness on their backs. Through this simple light change an enormous shattering change has taken place. This is enhanced by the perfectly timed 'bang' from the soundtrack. And a stunning banging shift it is. In the third section the whole space has opened up. 5 In The Wait the sudden head circles in different directions is a subtle and yet radical climax created by very small means. After that act something has shifted fundamentally. This effect is achieved by the preceding actions that are rather subdued. Through the use of minimal shifts something small & subtle immediately becomes big and focused. SUBTLE PAIN The world that we are drawn into, especially in the duets, is filled with serene relentless pain. The head circling sequence in the solo The Wait is approaching the art of bodily pain that can be found in performance art. When Anna Krzystek circles her head again and again only changing the direction of where to stand, it approaches a limit of watchability, yet it is utterly fascinating. The question of whether she will keel over or not is not as prominent as the feeling of bodily pain. No, she will not keel over, not even waver, she regains her balance perfectly. However, the pain conveyed is more in the vein of Bataille than giving rise to pity. A non-compromising pain that is at the core of the very existence in being human. TAIL BITING ACTIVITIES When you look at Anna Krzystek's body of work you can see it as a series. A trilogy where the works are interlinked in such a way that they seemingly never end nor begin. When the light goes on, the dancers are already moving as if they were always there. This impression of endlessness is another link to the world of visual arts. Whereas dance is considered an ephemeral art form compared to the solidness of visual arts, by devising an illusion of endlessness Anna Krzystek conjures the idea that the dance doesn’t disappear. 6 What happens when the piece is finished is that it simply stops. By then we have been watching so many stops, pauses and continuations during the evening that this 'final' stop becomes just one more beginning. And it is actually a beginning of a new piece of work, although there might be a long real-time span between the works. The same neverendingness that is inherent in the movements runs through Anna Krzystek's body of work. One piece of work links into the previous as well as it leads into the coming works. However, at some point another approach might appear and a new series is begun. I think that The Wait as part of the up-coming full length piece TEST – The Wait might be such a point. Whereas the previous two duets, albeit having a concrete starting point, are highly abstracted works placed in the black box space, making simple but beautiful use of a theatre space to create a ephemeral piece of visual art, The Wait has a more theatrical touch. The title of the piece gives a clear context for the work. When we see the woman in black pacing the space, we are aware of a feeling of anticipation by slight flicks of the head and darting looks. We are fed by conceptualized ideas of waiting and the multi-faceted process that lies behind the piece. A look is both a look filled with meaning created by the shifting ways of looking: a darting look, a look in the mirror as well as the look as an isolated movement. Here abstraction isn’t the overwhelming feeling. Meanings are created in how she waits, how she anticipates and how she flicks between fast and sudden movement and stillness. Although it might sound like a contradiction, I would say that The Wait is action-packed, although very little visible physical movement takes place. But there is so much going on that is barely visible to the eye that one is rather filled with impressions after seeing the piece - yet another example of the exquisite contradictions juxtaposed in Anna Krzystek's work. Annika Tudeer (Finland) is a performer and director of Helsinki based inter-disciplinary company Oblivia. She is also a freelance writer, writing articles and reviews on dance in journals and newspapers in Finland as well as internationally. This essay was commissioned by The Centre for Contemporary Arts, Glasgow with support from The Scottish Arts Council. TOP
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 TEST TEST - CCA, Glasgow "The Magic of Real Life in Real Situations" (Live Art Festival) Review by Kelly Apter, The Scotsman 27 November 2004 ANNA Krzystek spent an entire year bringing TEST to the stage. So it comes as no surprise to find the inspiration behind her solo was the concept of "waiting". One of the highlights of the CCA's live art festival last weekend, Test perfectly captured that limbo sate between desire and fruition. Glasgow-based Krzystek is one of the most interesting choreographers Scotland has to offer, operating at the cutting edge of contemporary dance. On paper, Test sounds excruciating: 50 minutes of slow movement, long stares, repetition and the incessant crackle of a radio lost between frequencies. In reality, Krzystek had us in the palm of her hand. Her langorous movements were performed with such precision, such incredible balance, they couldn't fail to captivate. The long stares and moments of stillness carried almost as much weight as the short bursts of swift activity. And when Krzystek unplugged the radio with a dramatic tug, there was no sigh of relief, just a powerful sense that her waiting had come to an end. TEST - The Wait, CCA Glasgow Essay/Interview by Philip Stanier 21st March 2004 This review comes in two parts: 1. A concise review of the performance by myself and 2. Anna Krzystek’s responses to some questions I asked her by email which I thought were of value when placed alongside the review. 1. This was something special. A white gallery studio with a table, a chair and a radio tuned to static. One performer dressed in black walks in the space looking at the audience and the room around her, mostly scanning and occasionally looking at something or someone. She stops moving for a moment and then slowly and precisely performs a clear move. What followed were a sequence of durations, some in which she performed a move, or was moving, or was just there. This was the piece and nothing else, at one point the static on the radio changed, this was a major event. The first time her hands twitched seemed like a massive flourish. The piece was demanding on the audience, we spent our time glued to our seats craning forwards, focused on every tiny detail. The movement while done with clarity and precision, was not what I was really paying attention to. I was watching and experiencing the movement’s relation to time. Time was altered by the piece, in each moment I was aware of my personal sense of time changing, moving in and out of synch with the white walls of the space, the white noise of the radio, the audience and Krzystek. It was Krzystek’s presence, movement and her negotiation of time through her movement that achieved this. What was distinct about the performance was that it was not timeless but time-full, and it hinted at temporal endlessness. Any moment in the performance could have stretched out in our experience without limit, and that we might have never moved to the next section, or that that moment might still exist now without end. The experience of ‘Test the Wait’ demonstrated Bersgon’s observation that time is made up of durations, units that expand and contract in relation to each other. Some time into the performance I checked my watch (finding it difficult to pull my eyes away from the stillness), thinking the performance must nearly be over. I was surprised and delighted to find that only fifteen minutes had passed. Kryzstek had done what I had seen no one else do for a long time. She had managed to make the experience of an enjoyable performance pass slowly rather than quickly. Usually we observe that something enjoyable seems to happen too quickly for our liking and that bad experiences seem to take forever. The full-length version will be at the CCA in October. I’m thinking of travelling to Glasgow just to see it. 2. ON TIME " Throughout the piece time does become manipulated, stretched and condensed, but all the while there's a very even paced regularity that keeps the piece moving along. To tap into the quality of endlessness” ON THE IDEA OF 'PRE' " The density stems from the sparseness of the piece and from working with the concept of "pre". The piece, as you saw it, was thirty minutes in duration and yet I wanted it to seem endless. I, as the performer, am alone on 'stage' - there's nothing else other than the sound of the radio static to keep the audience's attention. Keeping the audience engaged in the work and providing a sense of infinite timelessness. Working with the idea of "pre" allows me to embody & present a state of being - that of waiting - while the temporal shifts allows the audience to engage in the work. On occasions it's necessary to witness & experience something that happens fast in order to focus on something subtle and visa versa. At other moments it's not important to witness anything at all as perhaps the sound moves to the foreground of attention. The somewhat strict temporal structures I choose are there to provide the viewer with freedom to compose their own variations of what they see and don't see, hear and don't hear." THE QUIET PERFORMER "The notion of developing a 'quiet' presence derived from wanting to challenge myself as a solo performer. The movement phrases in the piece are incredibly spare and precise. There's no excess or surplus movement. I am essentially performing very close to my audience, we are in the same room and share the same space, I can observe my audience as much as they observe me, (especially during the sitting at the table sequence), and because of this I wanted to develop an intimate quality. The preciseness demands a lot of concentration and I'm forced to stay very much in the moment and complete everything fully before moving to the next; and as I perform I have to be incredibly patient with myself. This level of immersion allows me to keep close to myself while at the same time command the attention of those watching." WHITE SPACE / WHITE NOISE " I was interested in creating this piece for a white space because I felt it necessary for the piece to be stripped of the obviousness of "theatre" whereby the audience cannot sit comfortably in the dark. In a white space the audience are forced to acknowledge their presence. Acknowledge themselves watching and listening and also being watched and listened to. The white noise came about through associated thoughts relating to "pre". The static is neither one radio station nor another, it occupies an in-between state. The radio also provides an element of chance; the static can shift at any time. What seems to be an empty sound, a sound that represents "nothing", is actually very active, the subtle nuances and unexpected shifts are very powerful. I suppose in many ways they are very much connected and share a similar kind of "whiteness" - they both provide a place where the unexpected can be experienced." Anna Krzystek.