IF YOU WISH TO SEE ME DANCING
You register for a ticket. You’re asked to follow an Instagram account. Its handle is the title of the show, so all is looking good so far. You follow the account, as instructed. You wait for the allotted time, as instructed. The account will follow you back when the show starts. Like any Zoom webinar or online event, you expect it to start exactly on time. But remember, this is still a living, breathing live performance. But three minutes go by, and you start to panic: Did I miss it? Did I get something wrong? Am I here at the right time?? You furiously refresh Instagram. You close the app and open it again.
And then it comes, just as promised. ‘Check stories’, a comment in the profile picture directs. You open the profile’s stories. In there, you find the guidance you are seeking: are you in the dark? You should be. Is your screen brightness turned all the way up? It should be. Do you have headphones? And is the volume turned up? Do that. Turn on your notifications so that the app notifies you immediately of new stories, posts, comments, tags, etc. Okay, but I don’t do that for any other account, I’m thinking.
This is IF YOU WISH TO SEE ME DANCING YOU OUGHT TO VISIT THE PASSING CLOUD, created by Petra Serhal and programmed by Schachthaus Theater in Bern, Switzerland. A mixture of performance art and dance, it’s probably best described as an ambulatory social media performance. In hindsight, I almost forget there is no spoken word throughout the entirety of the 60 minute-long run. There are, however, plenty of characters in the form of other Instagram profiles that exchange comments with one another, share stories, and serve as crucial guides to point the audience to specific reels, pictures, or other content. Most of this content is voyeuristic in nature, focused on one female-presenting person in particular. But in the background of this, a string of longer reels play out over the main account, gradually being exchanged and reposted across the four or five other accounts encountered during the show. These reels are as dark as the battle against the whitewalkers in GOT’s final season. I find myself playing investigator, wondering what, if anything is ‘happening’. It’s evening, and we are in the midst of a quiet city. Streetlights are inconsistent, and the streets themselves, completely empty, save a mysterious figure with a blanket over their head. It reminds me of the anonymous masked character who opened the Paris Olympics’ Opening Ceremonies, though this time the horror movie-like score leads me to believe this person may be more foe than friend. I start to watch every reel more and more obsessively. As more stories launch in real time, I’m quickly becoming obsessed with this account; it’s like that of a recent ex whose every post, every story, every comment I keep checking.
Certainly some dense text is shared with followers, but not a word is spoken...
Another account is introduced now. The instructions are simple, yet ambiguous. ‘Follow’. I commit to the bit. I follow the account. The account DMs me, thanking me for the follow. Uh oh. I’m scared now. It’s here that the digital horror hits me, and I have probably made a mistake by also letting this person follow me back. I do have a choice - I could choose not to accept the follow request - but will I get the full experience if I make any (self-imposed) missteps? The accounts themselves are what I would describe as ‘stalker accounts’. All of the ones the audience is led to post constantly about that same woman. They feel almost like bots or fake accounts in the way in which they repeatedly post eerily similar content all focusing on the same subject. At the very least, a majority of them are catfish accounts.
One of many 'catfish' accounts...
Finally, towards the end of the performance, there is dancing. A female-looking figure twirls lyrically under a single, orange-yellow streetlight. It’s quite special to be able to watch someone who likely has no clue they are being watched. But after all of this, it feels wrong to look.
IF YOU WISH TO SEE ME DANCING transports me back to my early teenage years, where every school child was only just discovering the power of the online space— cyber-bullying, cyber-stalking, harassment. But still, there were doubts as to whether it was ‘real’ if it was just online. My mother warned me not to follow or friend people I didn’t know. She instructed me not to share certain information. And I must have faltered since, because one of the account so quickly found out that I am currently a student at a university and was able to trace my location immediately, commenting on one post, ‘I know where u are’. This performance made me put my cyber-guard down, if only for 60 minutes. I kept reminding myself it was only a performance, and it wasn’t real. But I have to say, it probably felt more real than anything I’ve seen in a long time.
⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️
