Us and All of This | Liesel Zink, Lawrence English, & Performing Lines
Image supplied by BrisFest
Billed as “an antidote to a capitalistic era of over-productivity, disembodiment, and dislocation”, Us and All of This was one of the rare cases where my experience lived up to what I was sold, acting as a shining example of what installation, dance, and sound work can be when allowed to exist at scale.
As I walked into the forecourt of the Brisbane Powerhouse, I was directed toward seating by BrisFest staff, and settled myself into a quiet spot off to the side. Realising that I had forgotten to bring either my phone or a book, I found myself paying a lot of attention to the activity which interrupted the stillness of waiting patrons - cheers from a birthday party at New Farm Park, the bark of a small dog, a toddler ringing a bicycle bell (much to his father’s chagrin). My world, so small in terms of what I could actually see, was expanding beyond what I would have assumed. This turned out to be the perfect primer for Us and All of This, as the first note of sound artist Lawrence English’s score washed over the forecourt, and performers began to enter from all sides.
Choreographed by Liesel Zink, Us and All of This is comprised of 100 performers - scattered throughout the forecourt, they moved in perfect time with one another as English’s soft drones carried through the space. Whilst the visual elements of the work are the easiest to discuss & subsequently laud, the sound design played a crucial role in Us and All of This’s atmosphere. I was never quite sure whether the score was leading the performers or vice versa, giving an improvisational feel to the performance. A huge part of what allowed the work to shine was these performers themselves, and the disparity in what they had worked to create. Diverse in age, gender, ethnicity, and body type, each dancer appeared to have a different ‘take’ on the instructions which they appeared to be getting from small earpieces. Moments of stillness left dancers seeming reverent, fearful, or joyous, while erratic movements could range from sensual to manic and beyond. Many of these more erratic moments left me lost, but in a way that I appreciated - by being presented with more unique performances than I could practically pay attention to, I was able to focus on individual performers. Watching as dancers teared up, smiled at an old friend, or furrowed a brow led me to question how a work could be so big and so small at the same time.
As I fear with most installation art, I had worried that the context in which the work was presented would alter my perception of it. Sure, theatre is defined by ephemerality, but my prior experience with works performed entirely within the public view was that there was generally some heckler who felt their input was crucial. This was firmly not the case with Us and All of This - while there were still the requisite interruptions via crying baby, dropped Frank Green bottle, or swift exit through the performance, none of it took away from my experience. For a performance as shockingly intimate as this, these deeply human interruptions made me feel all the more enthralled in each move the performers made.
Zink and English have achieved something incredibly special here - a true collaboration with highlights coming from both mediums present within the work, it was an honour to watch it in this iteration, with these performers, at this location. Installation art has the ability to change the world in which it exists, and nowhere have I found this to be more true than with Us and All of This.
‘Us and All of This’ was performed on 14 & 15 September in the Brisbane Powerhouse Forecourt as part of the 2024 Brisbane Festival.
