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Imagine the Brisbane Powerhouse's main theatre with the seating removed. lt is a rather voluminous, rectangular expanse. At one end, a steel and white installation containing uncanny constructions and at the other end a white screen with a shadow on it. In between, the flat stage is set for an orchestra. In such a dramatic room, strangely, the shadow is the first thing I notice, partly because it is moving. lt is the shadow of a cicada cast to enormous disproportion and whose wings flutter occasionally. I wonder what chaos will be born of those beating wings.
The installation produced by Per lnge Bjorlo occupies half the space and the orchestra occupies the other half. There is a blurred distinction between these composite parts. As I enter an usher hands me a rectangle of white felt to sit on, to soften the blow of steel seats. I can sit anywhere I like and move around during the performance. Comprised of an orderly series of rows of primarily seating, the audience is 'accommodated' by and in strange architectures. While sitting in rows is all too familiar, the architecture has changed. The first row is comprised of small steel cage type structures: they are like bus shelters with gridded mesh that contains a steel bench. In fact this is the same type of bench that many seats in public spaces are now made of, vandal proof and designed to ensure that no one ever sits for too long. In the second row, sheets of translucent fabric are hung between benches. Sitting here, people cast spectral shadows across the white fabric. The third row contains two rows of steel benches for one person