Something big is hiding in the dark. Accompanied by a haunting, droning sound, an enormous inflatable black pillow hovers towards us. When it circles, a naked human suddenly appears in this dark vacuum, alone, frozen in the eerie atmosphere. The frenzied phenomenon shoves and engulfs the human. Its surface shivers and trembles as if it is chewing and swallowing the defenceless woman. Another soul undergoes the same fate. One by one six individuals are exposed. They have nowhere to hide, being repeatedly denuded and run over. Are they the only mortals left on earth? Are they eternally punished - and for what sin? Frozen moments. Silent screams. Hopeless running.
When the secret is revealed, the mystery evaporates. The dancers have been manipulating the pillow by hand. What seemed like a live entity has now become an object. In the end, through exploiting all the performance possibilities of this ‘thing’, the numbing danger is diluted and no longer a threat.
In the gloom we can detect a giant pair of black lips, set in a downturned scowl. As the light increases so does their volume until they become a huge billowing pillow that wafts into the space as though directed by an interior force.
Whilst we’re blinking, adjusting to this oddly paranormal phenomenon, a female body appears, seated and still. She seems to have been ‘birthed’ by the black blown-up blob. It floats over her, consumes her and drifts off. Another body has magically taken her place. Through similar sleights-of-hand, other, more peopled ‘tableaux’ are revealed then vanish, ‘raptured’ into the puffed-up cloud. At last, one of the six dancers makes a break and runs: the urgency of the increasingly menacing scenario steps up. Will they escape? Will they regenerate? The undertones of this piece are apocalyptic. Wreck feels like a beautiful, troubling dream where the episodes that remain unexplained linger longer than those whose interpretation was explicit.