Life is a tranquil river that carries people along. In the stream of reduced sounds by Simeon ten Holt (1923–2012), 13 men and women in everyday clothes act with strict restraint in the small house of the Staatstheater Wiesbaden. Only a swaying of the legs, a nod of the head, a tilt of the torso. In the background of the stage, two white-haired pianists shape the meditative minimalism of the music. To the gentle yet relentless repetitions of the Canto Ostinanto, the collective initially acts, occasionally forming itself into folk-dance-like formations. Until the first ones break ranks.
With rolling eyes and tongue sticking out, with zigzagging movements between fear and rage, the individual breaks free. In the tension between order in the community and the transgression of boundaries in ...
