How They Disappeared is a dance piece that deals with ambiguous principles such as (un)becoming, emergence, (de)subjectivization.
Two dancers start to move very softly, almost indiscernibly swaying their hips, close to the audience, to a minimal electronic tune. They play a simple game: first they name things that are present and actual facts - complementing each other. Subsequently and in the same soft rhythm, they name things that are absent. …‘There is no beamer, no microphones, no lights left from the last show. There are no zebras, no pigs. There is no one to fuck me from behind.’… Still, in the mind of the audience, the absent becomes present. So on which reality shall we agree here? Then, another signifier takes over: the performers don’t talk any longer but move through series of iconographic images - almost too quick to grab. What are they (re)presenting? More and more, their backs are turned towards the audience and they conquer the space and its dimensions, driven by the music that has by now become complex and accompanies them, lifts them up, and gradually takes over, forces them beyond the realm of the semantic. Did we lose them/did they lose us/did they lose themselves? The two bodies, far away, diagonally in space, start to tremble in different, almost animalistic poses. Is it degeneration; images bursting out of their frames, or the human body in agony, yet resembling the erotic?
Material that vibrates and finally comes to a rest in a repetitive slow and soft gesture, a swinging that reminds us of the gentle hip swinging at the beginning, comforting and seducing, or even tranquilizing. Movement is what stays.