Breaking the conformity pinata.
The hush of a ready room, filling up to the brim as people lodge themselves in the last cracks of space has always been one of my favourite parts of any performance. And here, with the pink inside glow, condensation steaming up the city and appreciating (this absolutely NEVER gets old) how freaking fantastic it is to see real women's bodies, with softness and strength and relatability, the tone had definitely been set.
I am someone who gets uncomfortable far more easily than I should, it seems wired into so many of our human brains, so I appreciated how immediately disarming the performers of Doom Box Ecstatica were. Virgina, Alana and Marika were all just there to do their thing and appreciate their mums for the input along the way. We were reminded to show gratitude to all our past, present and future selves, grounding the performance as one of acceptance of all our own souls and bodies.
The first section of the performance was clear, bright, a little frightening, and highly athletic! The shapes and movements made by Alana and Virginia while Marika created music were ones we don’t always think that bodies are capable of making. The private and strange did not dance at the sidelines to the music, it was front and centre and we were very much given permission to look and to shed our layers of judgement and expectations.
As the performance went on, stories were told of irritable bowel syndrome that bridged the divide of what is ‘normal’ to tell strangers, we were reminded of our deepest confessional natures.
We want to tell our most embarrassing stories and the times we were at our worst.
We want others to see the bits of us that society has told us will turn people away.
We want to be looked in the eye and accepted.
And as it collectively became clear that a lot of people harbour an experience of shitting in the shower, easier breaths were taken. We are not strange and gross and unacceptable. We are human. And that is an incredibly comfortable truth to sink down into. The performance helped us reconnect both in mind and in body with this humanness which is both far more messy and far more beautiful than an individualist and capitalist culture would have us believe.
There was then an encouragement to get angry and break apart the pinata that holds all our good and strange, because it deserves to be in the world and to be shared. As Virgina let out the anger she had from the day on the crepe paper clad box and Alana let out some love on it, the questions and gifts that worked their way across the floor from these performers were a mixture of every process our brains can go through in a morning. As people found and read these little gifts around the room you could see all the buzz of connection. That thought or phrase or question spoke to something private and real for a whole lot of us. The one I picked up on a ping pong ball was particularly uncanny and I’ve kept it in my purse since as a bit of a cosmic and gritty reminder that we are even more connected than we think.
Written by Genevieve Vine
The hush of a ready room, filling up to the brim as people lodge themselves in the last cracks of space has always been one of my favourite parts of any performance. And here, with the pink inside glow, condensation steaming up the city and appreciating (this absolutely NEVER gets old) how freaking fantastic it is to see real women's bodies, with softness and strength and relatability, the tone had definitely been set.
I am someone who gets uncomfortable far more easily than I should, it seems wired into so many of our human brains, so I appreciated how immediately disarming the performers of Doom Box Ecstatica were. Virgina, Alana and Marika were all just there to do their thing and appreciate their mums for the input along the way. We were reminded to show gratitude to all our past, present and future selves, grounding the performance as one of acceptance of all our own souls and bodies.
The first section of the performance was clear, bright, a little frightening, and highly athletic! The shapes and movements made by Alana and Virginia while Marika created music were ones we don’t always think that bodies are capable of making. The private and strange did not dance at the sidelines to the music, it was front and centre and we were very much given permission to look and to shed our layers of judgement and expectations.
As the performance went on, stories were told of irritable bowel syndrome that bridged the divide of what is ‘normal’ to tell strangers, we were reminded of our deepest confessional natures.
We want to tell our most embarrassing stories and the times we were at our worst.
We want others to see the bits of us that society has told us will turn people away.
We want to be looked in the eye and accepted.
And as it collectively became clear that a lot of people harbour an experience of shitting in the shower, easier breaths were taken. We are not strange and gross and unacceptable. We are human. And that is an incredibly comfortable truth to sink down into. The performance helped us reconnect both in mind and in body with this humanness which is both far more messy and far more beautiful than an individualist and capitalist culture would have us believe.
There was then an encouragement to get angry and break apart the pinata that holds all our good and strange, because it deserves to be in the world and to be shared. As Virgina let out the anger she had from the day on the crepe paper clad box and Alana let out some love on it, the questions and gifts that worked their way across the floor from these performers were a mixture of every process our brains can go through in a morning. As people found and read these little gifts around the room you could see all the buzz of connection. That thought or phrase or question spoke to something private and real for a whole lot of us. The one I picked up on a ping pong ball was particularly uncanny and I’ve kept it in my purse since as a bit of a cosmic and gritty reminder that we are even more connected than we think.
Written by Genevieve Vine
Breaking the conformity pinata.