Labyrinth - The Rain Room

In the darkness, your eyes adjust to your surroundings. The sound of a rainstorm drones and beats, surging sometimes louder, then more gently. You look up and realise the entire ceiling is comprised of umbrellas. Bubbles float gently down, collecting what little light there is and sparkling like jewels.

Performers wander in and out. A bedraggled urchin boy, escapee from a Dickens novel; the Frenchwoman who has floated in from the previous room like a restless spirit.

A couple enter the room. He is dressed in black trousers and a t-shirt with barefeet. She, in a simple vintage slip. The seem like characters out of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and we feel we've invaded their intimate living-space. They move around each other with slow, fluid sensuality. Their dance is sometimes warm, sometimes angry, almost violent - but ever poignant and painfully personal. This communication through movement has no music, but swells and surges with the sound of heavy rain.

Kat Black: I personally found this the most moving and poetic experience of the night. The fact that only about a dozen or so viewers could fit into the space to witness this amazing performance was a bit unfortunate, but the small space definitely added to the feeling of extreme intimacy. She reminded me very much of early film footage of Isadora Duncan. It was too dark to shoot 'normal' video so I used super-nightshot, hence the blurring caused by the movements of the dancers - what a happy accident, as it really accentuated their movements. I felt so privileged to be one of the lucky few to have seen this performance, and was very annoyed that my battery didn't last the full 40 minutes.

Rain Room Soundscape: Scotty Johanson
Urchin Boy: Austin Falconer-West
Frenchwoman:
Dancers: Nicola Eddington and

The Pipe Room