DRESS UP FOR SHOW, ENJOY A VIDEO GAME
Immersive installation melds performance art with play
As technology improves and our lives become ever more entwined with screen worlds, it makes sense that digital technology has become a preoccupation of artists of all stripes, not just as a tool but as a site of exploration, a land filled with new stories and fresh metaphors.
Billed as part video game, part costume party, Digital Folk is an immersive installation by the interdisciplinary artists of plastic orchid factory that explores the strange and beautiful lines be- tween the virtual and the real.
Entering the room, audiences are encouraged to dress up in one of the many costume accessories designed by acclaimed visual artist Natalie Purschwitz, who also designed the set. They are then ushered through a room lined with blocks like pixels and encouraged to take part in a couple of games already on the go. After a short time, the mood shifts and the performers separate from the crowd, taking on the aspects of non-player characters — those almost-real beings that populate the virtual worlds we spend so much time in today.
Looking at a game where you must match your movements to those of the dancers on the screen, I was approached by a cast member who urged me to join. “It can only read four dancers,” she told me. “So we don’t really pay attention to the score — it’s just for fun.”
This sense of play for the sake of itself is a key component of the show. The tone of each hour-long performance stays in a range between reflective and playful, but seems less willing to explore the creepier, dystopian possibilities of its premise, though it’s possible the tone might shift in different iterations. Each performance is unique, and audience members are encouraged to stay for more than one.
The video game Legend of Zelda provides a thematic spine, con- necting each of the sections to a subtle quest narrative. The familiar rhythms of that well-loved Nintendo classic leak into the choreography, which was developed through collaboration and experimentation between the primary cast members under the creative direction of dancer James Gnam, who appears in the show in gold lamé and hot pink. Natalie LeFebvre Gnam, plastic orchid’s artistic director, also appears in red tassels.
Eleven cast members shift from one space to the next, carrying out disjointed mirrored dance moves or becoming part of a fake rock band with a repertoire of late ’70s radio hits.
Lighting design by veteran designer James Proudfoot provides a great deal of the magic by gently
shifting attention between performance spaces lit by old fashioned hanging lamps. The sound design by Kevin Legere manages to incorporate the video game feeling without falling into the trap of over simplistic mimicry. Through light and sound, the disparate scraps of physical performance transform into a journey with a few emotional moments.
There were times when it wasn’t clear where the audience was supposed to sit, particularly because of poor sight lines on one side of the main piece of furniture in the room — a pyramid of stacked blocks one performer called “the temple.” More attention could have been put into directing the audience without losing that sense of play. There’s a fine line when it comes to audience participation, and crossing it too soon and too often can zap some of the surreal ceremony out of a performance.