Integrated Attention for the soul of things Author: Fransien van der Putt The last 10-day program at Veem House for Performance opened this weekend with “An Attendee” by Antonia Steffens. She is seated at the end of the stage, where she awaits her audience. After a very limited number of spectators has found a lonely chair on three sides of the stage and someone hastily rummages around his pocket to then put on glasses, she slowly lowers her back to the ground and it becomes very quiet in the Theater. A painting is spread out there: a dirty white floor as a canvas, surrounded by a deep brown, glossy wooden floor as a frame. Under the chairs against the wall on my opposite side lays a fluorescent pink strip against the plinth. The pink returns on the floor, where next to Steffens' body lie a number of flat shapes, of soft blue and soft yellow polystyrene foam and a somewhat deeper yellow plastic underneath. Layers and rectangles, which are also beds and mats. And a painting in a painting - a white sheet on which rust-brown, dried flowers lie and underneath, some bright pink shapes have been drawn, like wonderful shadows. There is even a vase, hinting at a still life. Only a flat, square brick is somewhat out of place. When Steffens starts moving, her attention is focused on the entire space. Her gaze, body and arms reaching in front of her, like antennas in search of energy, rays and waves, invisible to the eye. They seem to embrace the whole space, wanting to merge with it. Deploying a back chest crawl while moving ahead, a different time is suggested, back- or inward. A few loose tones emphasise the stoic feeling of this feeling. No connection is sought or suggested. Rather, the edges of observation and interpretation are examined. Meta-theater, material research, trying to touch what is potentially present, but not necessarily immediately giving in to the observation. A beautiful dive to the floor recalls the introductory text, in which Steffens writes that “An Attendee” is about how the "human species" relates to the grounds of its existence. Or rather misunderstands, because of the gaps and it’s those, gaps that characterise the relationship. "The ground and performer appear to alter one another to find details and fractures of missing links, information and memory.” In the depths of Western culture, resistance and ecofeminism link up with fascism and capitalism, she writes. They are big words, and they hardly relate to the intense attention that Steffens has for the things around her, the human measure she generates with them, or even by deconstructing them as she surrenders to the level of things. Flat, old, withered and broken things, arranged as valuable objects in a larger than life assembly. One by one, Steffens approaches the various objects and plays with them, does small experiments, wonders, wraps up, takes care of and let’s go. As some objects acquire more meaning through the interaction, but rather than a scene they are mere beginnings. The question always remains: what occurs here with what? That can go far, for example when Steffens holds her left arm in check when it appears to be giving a hitler salute. But lying on the floor, on a styrofoam bed where she has just put a bundle of branches to sleep, the scene is rather bizarre. A meticulous dance with a broken vase ends in a dialogue. The vase asks her to say her name. "Say my name, say my name. You actin 'kinda shady' is going through my head, and as I write this I think: resistance, betrayal and capitalism? With her attention, Steffens transforms the objects into shapes and positions them next to herself as a performer, without evoking a specific drama, let alone a narrative. Instead, she impregnates the stupid of things with human restlessness, questions, and references, you could also say different modes. The game with references will be anything but a quiz in Steffens’ proposal. At no time does she try to beat her audience with knowledge and complexity. But “An Attendee” is somewhat like a puzzle with a few very large pieces that are difficult to fit together. Steffens is reminiscent like a puppeteer, but instead of recognisable protagonists (human or animal figures, a cloud or the sun) it is things that move and - as she claims - let move. The devoted attention reminds of the Catholic use of stations. Steffens lacks any reference to religion, when it comes to the great monolithic religions, but the transformation that she initiates in her subtle performance certainly has something of animism. As with many contemporary choreographers, Steffens' work is much more about how we look and give attention than it being about bold or expressive dance. It poses questions about the arrangements in our world, and how historical, political and social grounds continue to resonate and vibrate in our bodies, how they influence feelings and actions, without us always (wanting to) be aware of it. Going straight through fear to the soul of things (instead of letting fear eat that soul, as Fassbinder puts it so beautifully for his '74 film, with the subtitle “Alle Türken heißen Ali”) is apparently something that has to be done with the body. “What happens” is as a junction of forces, imprints and drives, regimes and behaviour, it is a thing between things. It requires a certain distance from will and desire, from knowing and controlling, all those all too human qualities that popular drivers know well about. Patience seems to be another motto of Steffens, given the way she takes time and doesn't give in to producing easy talk and pictures. She holds on to her research and freedom as an artist with integrity, while also putting her own central role into perspective with little jokes. As a spectator, I immediately wanted to see the relatively short performance again and observe it even more calmly, eventually, in a crossover setting, between museum and theater. “Yes” to a chair to sit, but not the entertainment I've been thrown to death with all day long. (…) Translated through Antonia Steffens Link to full article: https://www.theaterkrant.nl/recensie/an-attendee/antonia-steffens-veem-house-for-performance/