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The configuration of space, text and film follows a rigid scaling. The most rigid aspect of the performance, however, is the decision to conceive the installation for a single spectator only. Each quarter of an hour he or she is ushered by a staff member into a large, dark space and to a chair in its center. Usually one associates the model “installation” with the customary museum and gallery visitors who wander somewhat aimlessly through the exhibition rooms. Here, on the contrary, you are confronted with an almost uncanny intimacy. The attention of the spectator is in no way diverted, as he finds several mechanisms focused on him. He sits in the midst of an uneasy feeling of being “intended.”

In front of the chair is a stage, and above the stage: a screen. On the screen an animation film is projected, followed by and then in the main film: mist. And within the mist: a text.

I do not want to describe the work in detail here, but there are small and decisive moments, which in one way or another have to do with bodies and with surprise, which I can but clumsily depict. I would rather describe the basic structure and identify it as a possibility to allow various forms of art to interact, a possibility that differs from the principle of blending or mingling that one often finds in interactions between the arts. My brief summary already indicates that here the genres of film, theater and literature are clearly set apart and yet interleave like Russian [“matrioshka”] dolls. What makes this overlapping and careful framing oscillate in an amazing way is the position of the spectator. Although during the ten minutes that you’re sitting on your chair you can hardly articulate this feeling, it seems to me that there is a continuous fluctuation, where perception shifts from the theatergoer to the film spectator to the reader.

Volker Pantenburg in LICHTUNGEN, Zeitschrift für Literatur, Kunst und Zeitkritik – 111/CCVIII/2007.