Ann-Cécile Thiesen


He is dancing and spinning. He appears to be free. Yet, he seems concentrated, even caught up in something. Caught up in a hypnosis. Hypnotized by the sound and the atmosphere of his surrounding and the concentration lying within him. He is not alone; he is encircled by other people. Some dancing with him, others giving the rhythm. There are walls and buildings in the background, restricting him even more. So he is not free. He is under control, surrounded by other victims under control of an indefinable force. But he closes his eyes and focuses on himself. He dreams himself away, away from the force, the rules, the borderline, restricting him. He is made of blood and flesh; he breathes and is a part of nature, feeling, moving, and acting. Even his material costume is uncontrollable, it moves with the wind, with the motion, with himself. No, he cannot be controlled like a machine.


A machine is consistent and defined in every action. It does not act or move out of order, it strictly stays in its ways. The turning wheel is an object and a visualization of an emotion. Its monotony shows confidence and sadness at the same time. Sure, the machine might not feel emotions itself, but it can show emotions. The victim of power and human workforce carries an image. Looking at the spinning and turning human, one becomes hopeful and dreamy, one identifies oneself with him. But looking at the machine, one becomes depressed and sad and feels no connection. Why? What is negative about a machine that moves the same way as a human being? Both turn and turn and turn. One is of flesh, one of steel, but that is no difference for the movement. Where is the difference then? What is it that classifies the human as better and attaches the machine to a negative image? Is it the experience? Is it a wish? Is it simply hope? Or is there no difference at all?


The dancing man is free in his mind and free in his thoughts. The outer world can control his appearance, by giving a rhythm or choreography, deciding on a costume and a scene, but in the end, his mind is not restricted. He can be wherever he wants to be. Maybe he is a part of the choreography, a part of the group, a part of the scenery. But maybe that is only the viewer’s impression. And in that case it doesn't matter if the dancing object is a machine or a human. In that case, all the object does is transport an impression or an emotion. Detached from its actual feeling, thinking, working process.


In my opinion the music is a medium to guide the viewer’s grade of attention. The light sounds in the beginning let the viewer drift away and get lost in the moment, in the scene, in his thoughts. With the change of scenery comes the change of music. The light sounds become intense and frightening, awakening the viewer from the meditative atmosphere. The uniformly chinking bells or glasses become powerful pumping sounds with dark notes, rumbling to the image of an industrial machine.


Is the human nothing less than a machine, I think to myself, trying to understand the order of the scenes and the idea of it. Is it the machine that is free and not the human? Is a determination of more importance than the open possibility of any kind of development? Or is the human developing to a machine?



Or is it just me, drifting away, turning around in circles, lost in a moment and not getting out of it?