The double bill WET HOT WOMBS – Bathing into other Bodies by Tentacular Figurings and Super Superficial by Kysy Fischer is a memorable kick-off to Tanztage 2025. The festival takes place from 9 to 25 January at the Sophiensæle.
I see an octopus dancing on a coral reef, tentacles in a space-age setting, a clothing line, other deep sea creatures, a sea monster-lady-diva. Mika Bangemann (in the collective Tentacular Figurings) skillfully transforms into all these things this evening. Puppetry, performance, and live music melt together, as do the human body and non-human or more-than-human figures. Boundaries are blurred and surfaces fuse together, leaving behind human constraints.
Up until the end of the piece, I only see individual body parts of the performer, parts which simultaneously form the body parts of post-human beings. During a tranquil bathing scene, powerful octopus tentacles suddenly rise up, tearing me away from my contemplation of the serene atmosphere. A slime creature is born, which both fascinates me and reminds me of a horror film. From the smoke arises yet another sea monster. Half human, half sea creature or monster, definitely a diva. Reborn with a physicality that unites the human with the post-human. This human-monster is not only versed in the deep sea, it also has no problem occupying the punk stage. When I hear “Am I ever alone with my body?” and the final sounds of the performance, I recall conversations with friends who would like to swap their human body for slime or foil as a way of avoiding constant gendered attributions and exploring new possibilities of being. (WET HOT WOMBS – Bathing into other Bodies)
I see bodies, sculptures, mannequins. The Three Graces on a podium, holding hands, dancing around each other, seemingly floating with ease. Naked, exposed, admired, coveted, placed on a pedestal, idealized. Muses. While doing an online search for Muses, I only find images of figures with long hair, large breasts, and childish faces. At first, Kysy Fischer, Mariana Romagnani, and Manoela Range embody these types of female images – or projections. Then they break them. We see three naked women posing on the stage, their faces turned to the audience. As the light gets brighter and our faces become visible, the question arises: Who is now observing whom? We are ultimately no longer anonymous viewers, cloaked in darkness, watching this scene.
Change starts small. The sweet poses become a warped and eventually grotesque mimicry. A smile spreads into a sneer, which transforms into a display of bared teeth. The once delicate nudity now appears more threatening. The performers are now powerful, dangerous, and, most notably, funny. With a great deal of humor, they tell a new story about the naked woman. Large-scale projections of the performers’ own portraits are projected onto their bodies. A giant eye jumps back and forth between their buttocks. The (bodily) surfaces from the beginning of the piece are appropriated, the projections on them convey something new. Something that corresponds to the people on stage, not the male gaze. (Super Superficial)
