Pot Au Feu
Pot Au Feu is 3 minutes and 13 seconds of “angular robot jazz crammed with incident”, “a pounding, fantastically rhythmical track, unsettling enough to have a speedfreak running to get the breadknives in the kitchen.”This is three minutes and nineteen seconds of paranoia, virtually a rave track circa 1991 in its structure; a stattering, pounding teleprinter-paced bassline worthy of Timbaland as the tension builds, then a moment of chaos and crisis, an alarm-bell of a hook recalling the “panic / excitement” lines so prevalent in early 90s hardcore.

塩保朋子
waterfall
From a distance, Tomoko Shioyasu’s giant art pieces could be confused for immense maps of weather patterns rather than intricately cut paper tapestries. In fact, the Japanese artist is heavily influenced and inspired by the elements of nature such as the force of wind or the patterns of cells so it’s no wonder that his work has such an organic look and feel. Using utility knives, soldering irons, charcoal, and a steady hand, she creates floor to ceiling paper tapestries with the forces of nature in mind.

The Electric Knife Orchestra
Created by Neil Mendoza, The Electric Knife Orchestra consists of sixteen knives and one meat cleaver (all purchased from the $0.99 store) that have been brought to life to perform the Bee Gees’ 1977 hit Stayin’ Alive. The orchestra consists of six musical machines and all of the sound is created through the operation of these machines.

WORKS ON PAPER III: The Shape of Missing Violence
Each of the participants is required to hold a knife and stay still. They stand in front of a wall within a “frame” which is made of black adhesive tape in rectangle shape. When the performance starts, the artist adjusts their postures and, later, uses the same black adhesive tape to “fill” everything within the frame. Afterwards, the wall and the bodies of the participants are covered with black tapes, while their heads and the knives are still visible; then, their heads are covered with black tape and, finally, the knives are covered as well. Once participants realize that their body is completely covered, they can move slightly, expanding the tapes from “inside” (not destroying them) and come out from the tapes. They leave the knife, which is stuck on the wall, behind the tapes. In the end, the shapes of the leaving traces of their bodies are shown while the knives are invisible.

MENSKE

Even the standing room only tickets have sold out, and the raging mass of disappointed kids looks like they may start a riot: the atmosphere before Ultima Vez’s performance is akin to a rock concert. Choreographer superstar Wim Vandekeybus’s company has toured the world with their trademark vocabulary of acrobatic, extreme, often violent movement, soaked in multimedia and energetic music. Menske (meaning approximately ‘little human’), their latest work, has all the typical flaws and qualities of classic Vandekeybus. On the conservative end of political intervention, Menske is an explosive concoction of brash statements about the state of the world today, a sequence of rapidly revolving scenes of conflicting logic: intimist, blockbuster, desperate, hysterical. The broad impression is not so much of a sociological portrait, but of a very personal anguish being exorcised right in front of us, as if Vandekeybus is constantly switching format in search of eloquence. Visually, it is stunning, filmic: a slum society falling apart through guerrilla warfare, in which girls handily assume the role of living, moving weapons. A woman descends into madness in an oneiric hospital, led by a costumed and masked group sharpening knives in rhythmic unison. A traumatised figure wanders the city ruins dictating a lamenting letter to invisible ‘Pablo.’ Men hoist a woman on a pole her whole body flapping like a flag. “It’s too much!” intrudes a stage hand, “Too much smoke, too much noise, too much everything!” And the scene responsively changes to a quiet soliloquy. At which point, however, does pure mimesis become complicit with the physical and psychological violence it strives to condemn? Unable to find its way out of visual shock, Menske never resolves into anything more than a loud admission of powerlessness.