The garden of the Dragon

The performance forms a fragmented an architecture of ungodly forms of movement that is continually moving towards unusual and alien manifestations through the deconstruction of rationality and anthropocentrism. Accelerating rhythmic plant movements slides on alienating prostheses, while the chaos of posthuman reality reveals faceless creatures. Fear, however, does not lead to closure or rejection, but to an opening, a passion for the radical plasticity of the human body

What will happen (to us) once we cease to exist? Once we have consumed the Earth and there is no space left for any living creature? Zsuzsa Rózsavölgyi’s ‘climate conscious choreography’ goes in search for the posthuman visions that follow humanity’s self-elimination. First, she takes the bright, idyllic atmosphere of an innocent child’s game and paints it grim. Later, turning into an acrobat of illusions, she depresses us with images of surreal nightmares. These could even be considered visually ‘beautiful’, as they illustrate a malfunctioning, post-apocalyptic world of physically and mentally mutant individuals. But by no means can they be considered good. Is this what awaits us? Or have we already become these creatures? Are we still capable at all to recognise the moment when we cross another line towards self and environmental harm? Or are we drifting towards a final cataclysm without even noticing? Rózsavölgyi hit a political note in her previous work, 1.7, by dealing with the delicate theme of abortion and the consequential right of women to autonomy. This time she opens the gates even wider.