“When i came in with a few others, you opened the door for us. People were already sitting around the perimeter of the room.

You were walking around, kind of slow pace. Sometimes sitting in the middle of the room. Walking like a goose sometimes while massaging ur self. As if hesitant about what to do, or about which of the partial-gestures you should take up. you were rubbing yourself and rubbing the floor in the same way.

[…] You were opening the windows one by one and then closing them. You were maybe letting some movements echo and catch up. But all was very little. Not taken up for much time. I wanted some of it to continue. […]

You closed the windows. Proto Movements. Cranking oneself into the nooks of the corners. Opening them again. Differently. Spitting out the window. I liked how the cold came in through the windows. And the idea of the spit landing where I had walked before. It got darker and the movements seemed maybe more relaxed. It’s hard to pinpoint how something like this gets a quality of aboutness, without much changing visually. These thoughts I had, on the ‘boundary’ or ‘arbitrary relation’ between the situation itself and the actions, seemed to make good sense overall–made it meaningful—that I wasn’t sure when your movements had started to change character, or if I was just feeling more at ease as time passed and you stayed consistent with the style. You were also doing movements very close to me at one point. You kneeled down left leg first right leg backwards, crouched, rubbing the floor. And I shifted my weight and rested my head on my cheek. And the counting was good, I liked that it broke the silence and the power dynamics in assigning us but being mad and random and still nodding at structure and all that. and it was a comic relief the same way that the spitting was. And then you left the room and closed the door so we were alone and we knew it was over cause we heard you were in the bathroom drinking water.”

- Amitai Romm describes the solo performance Kura Skymning (trans. Keeping Dusk) by Stephen Lichty at Diakron, Copenhagen, September, 2014.