The independent Danish performance group Hotel Pro Forma has stood out as a unique
phenomenon within Scandinavian theatrical life since its establishment in 1985. Its
artistic director and founder Kirsten Dehlholm has been internationally recognized
for her innovative approach to theatrical performance. Moving away from conventional
text-oriented performance, she has developed a unique spatial and visual theatrical
style on the basis of her previous experience as an actress and co-director of the
artistic group Billedstofteater [Theatre of Material Images] that performed tableaux-based
spectacles outside the institutional theatre between
1977 and 1985. The Danish critics Eric Exe Christoffersen and Per Theil place Hotel
Pro Forma in the avant-garde tradition of Craig, Artaud, Grotowski, Kantor and Wilson,
artists famous for their criticism of western, psychologically oriented “realistic”
theatre in favour of displacement, site specific and environmental theatre (Christoffersen
1998a 13, Theil 15).
The very name of the group alludes to a temporal place and thus to the idea of shifting
aesthetic principles for each performance. As Dehlholm points out, “I don’t have an
ensemble, a repertoire or a permanent stage … I am a hotel keeper in the sense that I offer my guests the facilities of the building
and a framework for their stay—and I tidy the place up afterwards to make room for
new projects, new visits” (1996 69). “Hotel” in this context can be seen as the opposite
of “home” that represents stability and security. Christoffersen points out that Hotel
Pro
Forma’s performances deal with the lack of home, and, eventually, the lack of fixed
identity, truth, meaning and centre, and thus he defines Hotel Pro Forma’s performances
as nomadic theatre where the artist constantly chooses different perspectives, locations
and proportions instead of rigid self-centred dramatic concepts (1998b 68). “Pro
Forma” in turn questions theatrical form, expresses a search for new forms, and refers
to
the formal limitations (themes and their enactment) that Dehlholm sets anew for every
project. Theatre scholar Lars Qvortup calls Hotel Pro Forma a “formens laboratorium”
[laboratory of form], explaining that since Billedstofteater Dehlholm has focused
on an exploration of
formal conventions and conditions that create the aesthetics of a performance. In
particular, he stresses that the orientation towards spatial experiments help Hotel
Pro Forma undermine apparently innocent self-positioning and understanding of theatrical
space (179).
This article explores the notion that Hotel Pro Forma is—to borrow the word of Christoffersen—nomadic
theatre. More specifically I will focus on the role of borders and transgression:
what borders Hotel Pro Forma crosses, whether there is a limit to transgression, and
how their artistic identity is created. Four performances will provide examples of
their working method: Hvorfor bli’r det natt, mor? (1989) [Why Does the Night Come, Mother?], Operation: Orpheus (1993), Snehvides billede (1994) [The Picture of Snow White], and Dobbeltøkesens Hus/ XX (1998) [The House of the Double Axe/ XX]. These performances question how spatial
structures influence the formation of aesthetic
experience and self-orientation in the world. In searching for an answer, Hotel Pro
Forma focuses on the sensual perception of a place, redefining and overstepping conventional
ways of seeing, breaking down central perspectives and playing with optical illusions.
According to Dehlholm, her work can be described as “en tredobbelt iscenesættelse,
dels af rummet, dels af forestillingen—og endelig af
teater som begreb” [a triple staging, partly of space, partly of performance—and finally
of theatre as
a genre] (2003 99). Questioning these three major concepts allows Hotel Pro Forma
to explore existing
theatrical norms and search for new aesthetic expressions. It constantly travels on
a journey of discovery never lingering too long in any place, constantly exploring
new themes and artistic concepts. Their performances take place on traditional stages,
but also in museums, open spaces, planetariums, and buildings with balconies—not to
mention on stairs, ceilings and roofs. Being an independent group, Hotel Pro Forma
is free to decide where and how the performances will take place. In this way it probes
the border between institutional and independent theatre, as well as the border between
art and non-art.
The notion of nomadic theatre implies on the one hand constantly shifting geographical
and architectonic spaces for performances, physical traveling from one location to
another. On the other hand, Hotel Pro Forma creates nomadic art by avoiding fixed
theatrical frameworks and rigid boundaries between genres, popular culture, and science.
Their performances establish new relationships between the dramatic text and the body,
music, light, and space. Moreover, the projects are always somewhat related to traveling
through space and time in historical, literary, aesthetic and philosophical contexts.
That is why it is so difficult to define Hotel Pro Forma’s artistic identity. Theirs
is a journey that always involves change, whether the physical shifting of architectural
landscape, or the destabilization of experiences, beliefs, tastes and habits. Nomadic
theatre distrusts the existence of universal and timeless aesthetic truths and prefers
the experience of temporality and change. Therefore Hotel Pro Forma’s identity is
always in a state of transition and transformation.
Dehlholm points out that her project is “at lave et teater der overskrider, skaber
passager mellem det meget konkrete og det
meget abstrakte, det synlige og det glemte, det skjulte, mellem den autentiske virkelighed
og den kunstneriske autoritet” [to create a theatre that trespasses, creating passages
between the very concrete and
the very abstract, the visible and the hidden or forgotten, between authentic reality
and artistic authority] (2005 1). Movement, transgression of boundaries, and a constant
oscillation between binary
oppositions are essential principles that are repeated in every Hotel Pro Forma performance.
The staging of transgression, however, does not completely reject theatrical traditions—it
is always the space-in-between that matters. Instead of overthrowing old aesthetic
norms, Dehlholm uses them as a foundation for the renewal of theatre aesthetics. Theatrical
traditions provide Hotel Pro Forma with material that can be modified, refreshed or
combined with other genres, science, technology and popular culture.
Dehlholm’s working method recalls Michel Foucault’s thoughts on limits and transgression.
In his famous essay “A Preface to Transgression” the French thinker describes their
relationship as a flash of lightning in the dark:
Transgression, then, is not related to the limit as black to white, the prohibited
to the lawful, the outside to the inside, or as the open area of a building to its
enclosed spaces. Rather, their relationship takes the form of a spiral that no simple
infraction can exhaust. Perhaps it is like a flash of lightning in the night which,
from the beginning of time, gives a dense and black intensity to the night it denies;
which lights up the night from the inside, from top to bottom, and yet owes to the
dark the stark clarity of its manifestation, its harrowing and poised singularity.
The flash loses itself in this space it marks with its sovereignty and becomes silent
now that it has given a name to obscurity. (446)
From Foucault’s perspective, transgression creates a temporary movement through space,
which encompasses old and new territories existing side by side. In the same way,
Hotel Pro Forma’s nomadic theatre destabilizes the hierarchy of theatrical traditions
and aesthetic conventions which are, nevertheless, necessary for the transgression
to happen in the first place.
Since the notions of borders and transgression are interrelated, transgressing accepted
aesthetic norms and conventional ways of experiencing theatrical performance inevitably
involves creating new borders or perhaps pushing the old ones further. Every Hotel
Pro Forma project starts with a concept and a set of defining rules that are strictly
followed throughout the performance. In fact, Dehlholm has repeatedly emphasized how
important it is to create a clear framework for new ideas:
Jeg arbejder altid ud fra et sæt spilleregler, som jeg sætter for mig selv. I princippet
kan alt jo lade seg gøre, men det er fundamentalt vigtig at have en begrænsning, en
ramme, at spille med og imod. De forskellige rum giver i sig selv et sæt spilleregler
i kraft af deres arkitektoniske indhold.
[I always start working from a set of game rules that I set for myself. In principle
everything can be done, but it is fundamentally important to have a limitation, a
frame to play with and against. Different spaces provide themselves a set of playing
rules based on their architectonic content.] (qtd. in Christoffersen, 1998a 19)
Transgression in Dehlhom’s work not only looks back towards theatrical conventions,
but also creates concrete limits grounded in the physical and architectural characteristics
of a performance location, its function, and historical context. Paradoxically, precisely
this strictly defined framework opens up space for the flight of artistic imagination.
Limits provoke and inspire Hotel Pro Forma’s creativity. The physical location serves
as the basis both for the birth of the artistic concept and for the choice of performers,
music and multimedia. Every project is a new interpretation of space and performance
aesthetics comprised of sculpture, music, dance and poetry.
One of the earlier performances, Hvorfor bli’r det natt, mor [Why Does the Night Come, Mother] incorporates singing and dancing that dissolve
any narrative-centred staging and
create a spectacle of simultaneous action rather than a story. The title of the piece
is taken from the children’s song Solen er så rød, mor [The sun is so red, mother] composed by Karl Aage Rasmussen. The song forms one of
three independent artistic
layers in the performance, the other two being four dancers and poems by Søren Ulrik
Thomsen delivered as a voice-over. The layers collide, pass and fold onto each other
forming a particular mystical atmosphere. Dehlhom points out that when the songs are
sung and the performance starts, the town hall with its closed offices and empty hallways
is transformed into a cathedral (2003 114). This proves that there is a reciprocal
relationship between the artistic concept
and the location since the performance also has the power to transform the normal
identity of the place. It presents local metaphysical optics for a spectator where
everyday objects and places lose their ordinary characterstics and become a part of
the artwork. As Erik Christoffersen notes, location is an artist’s self-portrait:
“værkene repræsenterer subjektive valg af regler, som retrospektivt forandrer de rum
og objekter, som reglene bringes i anvendelse på, og giver dem en særlig historie
og identitet … Denne virkning er resultat af processens valg og fravalg og en form for selvportræt.” [the
works represent subjective selections of rules that retrospectively change space
and objects to which the rules are applied, and provide them with a specific history
and identity … This effect is a result of the selection and rejection process and a form of a self-portrait]
(1998a 19). The nomadic concept, therefore, shows how Hotel Pro Forma utilizes the
physical,
cultural and historical characteristics of the place in order to create a new transitory
identity of performance space.
The performance
Hvorfor bli’r det natt, mor not only transforms the identity of the place but also the audience’s self-positioning
in it. Hotel Pro Forma turns the traditional horizontal viewing of the stage head
over heals offering a vertiginous bird’s eye perspective. The spectators observe the
performance from the balconies of Århus Town Hall, a five-storey-tall building. They
look down to the bottom of a constructed shaft where the performers walk, sit or lie
in a white light that eliminates any perception of depth. When the actors lie on the
floor, the effect is of a graphic drawing, but when they sit down or start walking,
the illusion is created of actors swinging in the air, hence invalidating the laws
of gravity. Dehlholm outlines two main ideas that shaped this work: the abolition
of gravity, and the shift from depth to surface and from a two-dimensional illusion
of space to three-dimensional constellations. In her article “Overskridelse af yderlige
og inderlige rom” she explains this process the following way:
Øjet danner et to-dimensionalt billede (R2) men hjernen korrigerer, og vi sanser tre-dimensionalt
(R3). Midt imellem findes et stadie (R2.5) hvor formen foreligger som en mellemting
mellem flade og rum, et reliefstadie som synes mere åbent og afsøgende. Her findes
betydningen svarende til en ufærdig, en mindre stabil, mere uafgjort og mere tænkende
fase i sansningen. Her befinder forestillingen sig.
[The eye creates a two-dimensional image (R2) but the brain corrects it, and we perceive
a three-dimensional image (R3). In between there is a stage (R2.5) where the form
appears as a middle thing between flat and space, a liberating stage which seems to
be more open and searching. Meaning that corresponds to an unfinished, less stable,
more undecided and more thinking phase of perception, is found here. Here is where
the performance is located. ] (2)
All Hotel Pro Forma’s other works can be situated in such “a no man’s land.” It is
the space in between all possible borders of perception where the performers
and spectators are positioned. In this non-fixed environment they are forced to reconstitute
their personal identities, constantly transforming them each time the perspective
and perception of dimensions shifts. By applying a scientific explanation of visual
perception, Dehlholm suggests that the aesthetics of performance are created at the
intersection of various genres and scientific disciplines.
Examples of this interaction of art and science can be found in all Hotel Pro Forma’s
performances. In Hvorfor bli’r det natt, mor, theatre scholars Britta Timm Knudsen and Bodil Marie Thomsen have noted both the
recognition and abolition of scientific laws. They draw particular attention to images
of two chairs that are used during the performance. One of them is a real physical
object, a transparent inflated chair seen by the spectators from above. In the beginning
of the performance it looks like a flat spot on the bottom of the shaft and it takes
twenty minutes till the chair is fully inflated and achieves its final form. The other
object is a constructed, black, two-dimensional image of a chair whose vertical and
horizontal lines are constantly shortened and lengthened throughout the performance.
It distorts the traditional perspective from above and creates an optical illusion
that the chair is hanging vertically in the white space. According to the Danish scholars,
the presence of a flat object in a three-dimensional space distorts our perception
of depth, which normally occurs when we look at physical objects. Therefore, the two-dimensional
image of a chair complicates our judgment as to whether we are looking at a flat picture
or a real object in a three-dimensional space.
Knudsen and Thomsen point out that the chairs helped to maintain the theatrical principle
of destabilized relationship between the two and three dimensions, and vertical and
horizontal planes (3).
Hotel Pro Forma plays with the laws of optics destabilizing the visual field and making
this process into an aesthetic experience. From being a passive organ the eye is transformed
into an active participant in the theatre of illusions where knowledge of physical
reality becomes relative. The spectacle undermines the typical understanding of the
bird’s-eye view and disorients the spectator to the point of dizziness. Objective
perception is replaced by a subjective attempt to grasp the images and locate them
in space. The act of looking downwards usually implies the superiority of the observer,
and the balconies in the town hall indeed provide a kind of panoptical gaze from a
tower as Dehlholm describes it: “rummets panoptiske udformning indbyder umiddelbart
til at placere sig på øverste etage
og tage rummet i øjesyn med et svimlende fugleperspektivistisk blik. Geografien opfordrer
til at skabe en forestilling, der i sig selv er perspektiv og tyngdekraft med perceptionen
som omdrejningspunkt” [the panoptical formation of space immediately invites positioning
oneself on the top
floor and observing the space with a gaze from a dizzying bird’s eye perspective.
The geography urges the creation of a conception, which in itself is a perspective
and gravity with perception as the focal point] (2003 114). Likewise, Knudsen and
Thomsen compare the Town Hall with its rectangular hall, whose
walls are fitted with five balcony landings, connected by stairways to a “classic
modern prison interior” evoking the image of Jeremy Bentham’s panoptical prison outlined
by Foucault in his
book Discipline and Punish.
Foucault analyzes a surveillance society and the privilege of the gaze by describing
the development of the prison and its architecture based on Bentham’s drawings of
the Panopticon where one prison guard is able to keep control of hundreds of prisoners
due to the specific architectonic structure of the prison: a tower in the centre where
a guard can observe prisoners located in individual cells of a narrow circular building
where all the cells have two door openings allowing the light to fall on the prisoners
so that they are clearly visible to the guard. Control and discipline of the prisoners
depends upon their awareness of being constantly watched. Foucault uses the Panopticon
as a metaphorical model to define power structures in contemporary society and its
fields of activities including art. Here a central perspective has dominated literature,
painting and stage design since its discovery in the Renaissance. Hvorfor bli’r det natt, mor opposes this conventional perception of surroundings and openly challenges the transparency
of the panoptical gaze.
In a similar way, Hotel Pro Forma transgresses conventional viewing of a performance
on a proscenium stage, offering new ways of perception for the audience. The theatre
is one of the most culturally and historically loaded places, with traditions and
conventions that have been formed and transformed throughout the centuries. The conventions
make the performance framework extremely rigid and especially difficult to break.
After staging the performance
Operation: Orpheus that takes place on the Main Stage of The Music House in Århus, Dehlholm writes:
Jeg er gået ind i sansningens rum og her bliver jeg lidt endnu. Sansningen skal hjælpe
mig igennem det rum, der venter: teaterrummet eller kukkassen. Et belastet rum fyldt
med konventioner og forventninger om underholdende svar på små og store spørgsmål.
I alle disse år har jeg undveget kukkassen, prosceniumsteatret med de faste publikumspladser.
[I have entered perception’s space and I will stay there a little longer. Perception
will help me through the space that lies before me: the theatrical space or the black
box. A loaded space filled with conventions and expectations about entertaining answers
to small and large questions. In all these years I have avoided the black box, the
proscenium theatre with its fixed audience seating.] (2005 2)
Between 1993 and 1999
Operation: Orpheus was performed in—among other places—Sydney Opera House in Australia and The Brooklyn
Academy of Music, New York. The performance is composed according to the dimensions
of the stage and the audience’s perspective. Thirteen singers and a dancer move up
and down on a large staircase that—with the help of laser light—is transformed from
a three to a two dimensional structure. In this way the framed staircase shifts back
and forth from an illusion of infinite space to an absolutely flat, depth-less surface,
and the performance acquires the characteristics of a painting displayed in front
of the audience. The spectators are seated in such a way that everyone can view the
stage from a sixty-degree angle, so that no matter where a spectator is sitting, the
view of the stage is equally unobstructed. The central perspective is completely undermined
because there are no central or peripheral seats for the audience.
Operation: Orpheus somewhat repeats the principle of non-hierarchical vision used in
Hvorfor bli’r det natt, mor, only here, instead of the vertical view, Hotel Pro Forma attempts to change the
traditional horizontal perspective of theatre seating. Right from the beginning of
the performance the spectators are made aware that the usual seating model and view
of the stage as the living room without the fourth wall do not exhaust all the possibilities
of theatrical staging.
Operation: Orpheus both transforms the physical gaze and forces the audience to question what makes
the show they are seeing a theatrical event.
This project redefines not only conventional theatrical space, but also revalues the
limits of theatre performance in general. The text-based linear narrative in Operation: Orpheus is displaced by the introduction of operatic elements and emphasis on visual effects
including dance. Music plays an important role in a performance that also tries to
redefine the opera genre—a strategy hinted at in the performance title. The word “operation”
alludes both to opera and to the surgical procedure that in this project could be
described as being performed on the operatic genre itself. The traditional conventions
of opera singing are broken by silent pauses filled with choreographic movement and
changing light. Dehlholm notes, “det visuelle gestiske element i fremførelsen er lige
så viktig som lydene, sideordnet,
men ikke synkroniseret” [the visual element of gesture is equally as important as
sounds, parallel, but not
synchronized] (2003 118).
Unlike the traditional drama or opera, Operation: Orpheus does not focus on the narration of the actual story, but instead creates a spectacle
around it. Dehlholm further explains that the performance is “et syngende billede
i langsom forandring, der indirekte rummer de store spørgsmål
om live, død, og genfødsel. Ikke en historie, men netop en bevægelse” [a slowly transforming
singing picture, which indirectly poses the big questions of
life, death, and rebirth. Not a story, but in fact a movement] (ibid.). As Theil has
pointed out, the poetics of a Hotel Pro Forma work is the poetics of
representing the non-representable, the sublime: “Det handler jo for både Orfeus og
publikum om at se det Andet i øjnene: Døden som
den ruller frem og tilbage på trappen. Transcendensen, som den åbenbares mellem lys
og skygge” [Both for Orpheus and the audience it is about looking the Other in the
eye: Death
as it is rolling back and forth on the stairs. The transcendence that it exposes between
light and shadow] (24). To open up this in-between position the performance relies
on expressing the verbally
inexpressible experience through song, movement and light. Hotel Pro Forma does not
tell the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, but rather uses it to access the universal
themes of life and death.
Traveling from life to death and back emphasizes the nomadic theatrical concept here
reinterpreted in three segments representing Orpheus’s descent to Hell (twenty minutes
in the dark); Orpheus’s ascent with Eurydice (twenty minutes in half light) followed
by the remembering of the loved one (forty minutes in the light). Each segment offers
a different visual perception for the audience and sends it on an exploratory journey.
Dehlholm stresses that all the performers wear the same costumes so that any one of
them can become either of the mythical figures during the performance. By this device
the audience’s sense of the identity of the characters is constantly fractured. At
the end of the performance laser beams are directed from the stage into the audience
creating waves that literally drown both the singers and the audience in a blue light.
As Dehlholm explains, “således hentydes til mytens slutning, der siger at Orfeus’
krop bliver sønderrevet
af de vilde Mænader, hans krop bliver kastet i floden, men hans hoved flyder syngende
på vandet” [in this way the allusion is made to the end of the myth that says that
Orpheus’ body
is torn apart by the wild Maenads and thrown into the river while his head floats
singing on the water] (2005 3). From a theatrical point of view, the border between
the audience and the actors
also becomes fluid, particularly at the end when the blue laser is directed at the
theatre hall from the stage. Christoffersen interprets it as the gaze of Orpheus directed
towards the audience (1998b 86). The roles become reversed, and the audience now
becomes the actor. Hotel Pro Forma
displaces the conventional understanding of theatre as a representational space in
favour of a phenomenological space where the identity of the audience and theatrical
conventions are redefined throughout the creative process of the performance. All
this puts into question where the theatrical experience takes place.
In its exploration of the line between art and non-art, Snehvides billede [The Picture of Snow White], which is also set in the black box (Kanonhallen, Copenhagen)
focuses on the fusion
of fantasy and reality, authenticity and a mask. The appearances of the performers
raise the question of how identity is related to normality and what constitutes accepted
definitions of beauty. According to Dehlholm, the main goal is to confront the traditional
understanding of what theatrical space should be and to blur the line between theatre
and reality by using the Brechtian “Verfremdungseffect” [alienation effect] (2003
105).
The performance unsettles the audience from the very beginning because the dwarfs
are played by midgets, Snow White is a woman who was abused by her stepmother, the
hunters are soldiers, the prince is an opera singer, and the stepmother has a split
identity which is made apparent to the audience by her being played by twins, one
of whom represents her, the other her mirror image. The performers all present their
own understanding of beauty and its importance in their own lives. All these subjective
perspectives establish a network of different identities that function both within
and outside the theatre walls.
The magic tale is both enacted and disrupted when the dwarfs step on the stage. The
audience has numerous moments to reflect upon their perspective on life and on conventional
notions of physical beauty. When the dwarfs talk about their own attitudes towards
their small size and the way of life that it occasions, they are very positive and
open. While they perform, the stage, the props, and the media are used to accentuate
or underplay the importance of their size, so there is always a comparison between
the physical scales. One example of this is an orange curtain adjusted to the height
of the dwarfs in the beginning of the show, making only the lower half of the Snow
White visible. Other examples include a big red ball on which a dwarf is balancing,
and a video clip of Billy Idol shown in the background while one of the dwarfs is
performing his song. At some point Billy Idol’s image in the clip is replaced by the
singing dwarf in the same style, so the identity of the singer becomes split between
the media image and the live performer. There is also a dwarf watering decorative
garden dwarfs that other dwarfs are carrying in small carriages, and a dwarf playing
a children’s game, which associates him with childhood. The falseness of this association
between small size and childhood becomes apparent when the dwarfs attempt to peek
under Snow White’s skirt, unbutton her dress or pretend to suck her breast. The line
between the erotic and the childish is blurred along with that between the normal
and abnormal.
Theatrical illusion is even more emphasized in the performance of the twins, who are
identical and yet different. They develop the theme of images reflected in a mirror,
invoking the theatrical mimesis of reality that Dehlholm has always tried to avoid.
For her, a mirror motif is “en opmåler af indentifikation og som en optisk illusion” [a
measure of identification and like an optical illusion] (2005 1). According to Christoffersen,
a mirror image does not belong to reality but creates
its own world with its own values that are valid only within its limits, which is
the world of fiction and deceit (1998b 98).
The performance, by reinterpreting the magic tale, calls into question conventional
construction of believable characters. Instead of a single and coherent story line
it presents fragmented stories performed by each character about his or her own self
which are reminiscent of but distinct from the original tale. Therefore, the performance
creates a double space of theatre and reality within which the characters move back
and forth. Christoffersen points out that the performance comprises a double staging:
the audience experiences the magic of the show from each character’s perspective,
but its voyeuristic gaze is also observed and reflected by the performers (1998b
97). There is, however, a third theatrical dimension—the spectators gazing at each
other
across the stage, since they are seated in two long rows mirroring each other with
a stage between them. The audience becomes a part of the staging, which reminds us
that people enter roles and create their desired images through the performances of
everyday life, thus expanding the notion of theatre beyond the conventional theatre
house.
If Snehvides billede is occupied with theatrical illusion and exploration of subjectivity, the project
Dobbeltøksens Hus/ XX [The House of the Double Axe/ XX] explores in more detail an aspect of gender and
the historical shift of aesthetic
norms in the Middle Ages and contemporary pop-culture. The title of the play is another
name for the labyrinth, the female realm representing the way in and out of the womb
according to mythological interpretations (Cippola 18-19). The double “x” defines
both an axe and the female chromosome. Therefore, the main
spatial structure of the performance is a labyrinth projected on the floor. The audience
is seated on an elevated platform in order to observe the performance from above,
but not from the dizzying heights of the balconies in Århus Town Hall. This is a good
example how Hotel Pro Forma uses the same space as Snehvides billede, the black box (in Kanonhallen, Copenhagen), to accentuate different perspectives.
Dobbeltøksens Hus/ XX stresses the contrast between the flat horizontal surface and the vertical axis of
the performers that enter and exit the labyrinth.
Dehlholm explains that the labyrinth is a moving principle for the Danish singer Dicte
and the seven female dancers. The image of the labyrinth also refers to the horizontal
image of the world in the Middle Ages. Seven performance scenes represent the seven
days during which God created the world. Each scene is based on the combinatorial
principle, which refers to the medieval conception of the planets, heavens and hells,
magic numbers, days of the week, geometry and insanity (Hotel Pro Forma 1998b 8).
Flashes of contemporary life, like bar codes and the performance of Latin texts
by Dicte, underline the commonality of societies past and present. The images from
our life today are made mysterious and seem to become a part of the medieval realm,
and vice versa. The labyrinth becomes a space in which to reflect on history and our
shifting perception of the universe. Dehlholm comments that in this performance she
attempts to be aware of the postmodern world today where the central perspective loses
its privilege to multiple horizons and fragmented levels of meaning. The space becomes
disorienting like a labyrinth. She explains that we have entered into the century
of cyberspace and digital media and this opens new opportunities to artists:
Men et nyt—og gammelt—rum åbner nu dørene for os. Det gamle rum er universet, det
nye er cyberspace. Uden universet, ingen cyberspace. Det nye rum har ingen
vægge, gulv eller loft. Ingen arkitektoniske dimensioner eller historiske traditioner
at
forholde sig til. Her findes ikke længere ét sted, samfundets eller verdens centrum,
hvorfra det suveræne menneske kan iagttage sin omverden. Samfundet—og teknologien
—har skubbet mennesket ud i periferien, hvorfra det kan springe fra iagttagelsesposition
til iagttagelsesposition. Kan bevæge sig uhindret rundt i et dynamisk rum,
hvor enhver er bruger og betragter og selv bestemmer over det næste skridt. Hvor
adgang til rummet er et IT-kort. Jo flere kort på hånden du har, jo flere rum kan
du
åbne. Hele verdensrum får du adgang til.
[But a new—and old—space opens its doors to us now. The old space is the universe;
the new one is cyberspace. There is no cyberspace without the universe. The new space
has no walls, floor or ceiling. It has no architectonic dimensions or historical traditions
to relate to. Here there is no longer one place, the centre of society or of the world,
from where the sovereign human being can observe the surrounding world. Society—
and technology—have pushed human beings out to the periphery, from where
they can jump from observation point to observation point. They can move around
unhindered in dynamic space, where everyone is user and observer and independently
decides the next step to take; where the entry to space is an electronic card. The
more cards you have in hand, the more spaces you can open. You have admission to the
whole world’s space. ] (2005 4)
In
Dobbeltøksens Hus/ XX the labyrinth is a space that links the medieval understanding of the world—which
was very clearly defined and categorized into planets, heavens and hells, sins and
virtues—to contemporary cyberspace, a space so overwhelming that comprehending its
totality becomes impossible. The labyrinth also introduces the notion of the mystical
feminine since all the performers are women, and the labyrinth is guarded by an eighth
female dancer dressed in armor, representing the guardian of the labyrinth. The Performance
Program (by Dehlholm) points out that the mystery of sex and power emerges clearly
and threateningly when the other sex is excluded for a short moment (Hotel Pro Forma
1998b 7). The labyrinth, then, also refers to the limits of female space, yet its
confusing
passages are not always visible to the audience and can only be guessed at from the
stylized movements of the performers. Their movements create a labyrinth on the floor,
but most of the time the labyrinthine paths are repeatedly covered by white and black
patterns projected on the same spot by a double-scroller. They change into labyrinthine
city maps, bar codes, and building plans. The difficulty in discerning the pattern
of paths, due to the shimmering lines—quite apart from the bewilderment inherent in
the labyrinth—creates the experience of confusion and lack of total perspective, leaving
the audience to wander in the labyrinthine meanings of the images.
All four Hotel Pro Forma projects present original artistic concepts that explore
spatial possibilities from both the performers’ and the audience’s perspective. Thus
the nomadic principle applied by Hotel Pro Forma is double-sided: on one hand it defines
the shifting relationship between aesthetics, theatricality and space, and on the
other between the spectacle and the spectator. Conventional perceptions of art and
self-understanding are therefore transgressed and tested in each performance. Thus
Hotel Pro Forma assumes an in-between position offering new ways of experiencing the
body in space without completely rejecting traditional ways of staging.