80s Mixtapes! or, phrases from ten years of Adhocracy programs

80s Mixtapes! or, phrases from ten years of Adhocracy programs

Knowledge is not a fixed point in time. Just raw dusty space leading you right to where the darkness lurks. It might take two minutes or it might take ten years. How do we choose what will last forever?

Everything that has happened within this space is choreography.

Acting is lying.

Audience is vital.

Sovereignty has never been ceded.

Grab a chair, sit in for a while, look and listen. Enter the world behind your eyelids. Breathing, smoking, eating, singing, taking over the world. Coming up for air from the daily grind. Continually unfolding and revealing. How far can we drift outside of the sense of self?

A disintegrating monologue. A distant beep. A faint breeze. A meandering conversation, an intense reconnection. A palindrome, a reversible dance work. A spiraling fall. An empty suitcase and pockets containing scissors, glue-stick, needle and thread; armed with only a voice recorder, notepad and stills camera. Clouds of wings and piles of pigeon poo. A smoke machine will be on hand.

A city portrait in installation and sculpture. A contemporary opera in five acts. An experiment in living and breathing creative digital culture. An investigation of immigration, asylum seeking, human rights and love, viewed through the symbol of the boat. A gentle revelation. A lovely reprise. A mountain ahead.

Farmers watched the sky colour to know when to sow and reap. Mariners noted wind and waves for signs of change. Looking at the queer, the horrible, the sustainable and the precious we place our ear against the sounds of the ocean. The subconscious is one of the great unknowns.

She found this disconcerting.

Anxiety is at epidemic proportions as we hover between the lessons of history and the abyss of the future. Fear and its good friend adrenalin is a physiological experience; you cannot control it. How do we reconnect with climate as a template for relating to our world? How well does democracy work?

A group of women meeting for collective activity in a self-organisational model is a political one. They cry like children. They move in their beautiful suits like ghosts. Full of ego yet obscure and absurd.

Expect unfortunate stories, awkward special guests and naughty movies. A constant stream of news, information, and advertising created through dance making and other forms of artistic activation. Designed for post-colonial cities, beer and riotous behaviour will be liberally championed, as will moments of reflection, pause and lucidity.

The question is do we have the skills to cooperate in the physical world? The question is how does the superstitious or curious imagination make sense of all this? Are we scratching about for scraps and just making do? What makes your day worth it? Why does it happen at all?

Will you laugh at real fear despite yourself?

Will you learn about yourself, or about the person sitting next to you?

Will you question what you are capable of, the fantasies you may have?

Say yes. It may cause sleep deprivation.

The doors to the great hall are open. Try not to hurt yourself.

As always, ironic comedy will be present.

It’s all we could ever hope for.

A Decade in Decline

A Decade in Decline