Philip Stanier, Live Art Magazine

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.

© Philip Stanier.

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.

 

TEST - The Wait, Anna Krzystek, CCA, Glasgow 27th November 2004

Kelly Apter, The Scotsman

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.

1st December 2004

 

STILL, Anna Krzystek, New Territories, Tramway, Glasgow 20th February 2007

Mary Brennan - The Herald

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.

21st February 2007

STILL, Anna Krzystek, Toynbee Studios, London 9th October 2007

Chris Goode

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.

October 2007

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