A uniform is a sentence
Puppet theater performance, 2022

"Who are 'we'? We do not know what is going on between us. We do not know what the band is and we do not know how to coordinate the chorus. The sound emerges from from the crowd.”

A uniform is a sentence was a puppet theatre performance. It consisted of a choreography across three different spaces: the orangery, the ballroom and the wine cellar. Visitors were guided through the building, accompanied by shifting musical compositions, and experienced the story unfold in several acts.

Along the way, the visitors met several fictional characters, all of whom tried to find their place in the building: at work, in the family and in the community. The performance questioned what we mean by 'collectivities' and 'communities' - and whether we can create new connections through collective disorientation.

Photos by Niels Vogensen and the audience.
















A uniform is a sentence. We do not know what an orchestra is. We do not know how the band plays together. Aggregation is not a predetermined symmetry. Society as an apparatus runs in parallel. The hinges seem fragile. Although all components supply or translate the machine, the coupling is erratic. This is "us".

A uniform is a sentence. But rhythmically we are indifferent. Music can perhaps be said not to be full-bodied, but to have plenty of breadth as it spreads a ground. The music spreads something in which something else can move.

A uniform is a sentence. Music is perhaps the closest we have to a collective body. The music follows the time signature, and thus the count, thus the body, thus the pulse, thus the bodies across. The common denominator is 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4. Music records time as the commonality of the bodies, and at the same time records time as the marginal phenomenon of the bodies.

A uniform is a sentence. We do not know. When we talk about a minority, we are already talking about a majority of which it is a minority. As soon as we speak outside the categories, the categories lurks in the language as an unwanted guest. The language seems coded to clone itself. As a greenhouse. Language is foreign to that which experiences its reality for itself, and is for itself as an immediate given, without any kind of interpersonal or intertextual mediation. We do not know.

A uniform is a sentence. When you sit at the dining table, you step forward as a family. Any social function can be categorized. We speak in cardinality. A chair dance. But one can start by looking for discontinuities.

A uniform is a sentence. We do not know.



Credits:

Concept, script og scenography: Mark Tholander
Voices: Steen Schytte, Marius Lathey and Maja Muhlack
Drums: Jēkabs Rēders
Piano: PJ Fossum
Saxophone: Jon Sensmeier

A big thank you to Villa Kultur for making the project possible.

The performance was supported by Det Obelske Familiefond and Statens Kunstfond.



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