A confining corridor of light illuminates Hayford in her search for self. Transfixed, unblinking, her profile surges restrainedly; her soul rippling through the body from the soles of her feet. Stealthily, she stalks the source of light across the stage like a cheetah in the long grass. She is hungry for change. And the hunt will take us through the night.
Hayford’s tense, rounded arms seem to carry the weight of her transformation. Hollow torso-ed, her burdened back pushes to crack the ceiling of limitation. Muscles pop, contract and dilate as though encountering a metamorphosis of their own whilst fingers flicker, tremor and pluck the air as she listens for her internal voice, made external in the echoes of a female call.
At one point, her shadow threatens to consume her before she bursts into full light, circling and cleansing the space - ‘This is it!’
She crosses the threshold into a gentle groove all her own. With wry smile and tender gaze, this first-time soloist completes her first shift with many more shapes to tread.