A technical marvel,
Oscillating between suffocating and life-affirming, Perceptual Landscape must be traversed by us all.
A TV beams news programmes, a source of constant unsettling background noise, until Mok shifts between channels, muttering along at times. This startling depiction of today’s crushing globalised pressure prepares us for two miracles of dance. Firstly, a ticking clock accompanies a mesmerisingly mathematical performance that seems repetitive. Then a handheld strobe light is walked towards Mok, generating a stunning montage of angular poses.
Tapping on the floor, on a chair, on flesh is a recurring trope, and has a glorious impact on sounds which ricochet and ripple thanks to Eric Chan’s mesmerising creativity. Four wooden legs are ruthlessly smacked against the floor (which itself has received a beating by this point); soon after, a much larger, crisp paper blanket emerges. The man who manually operated lights and cameras now joins in with the chaos: the two performers are a tangle of confusion that reaches a peaked climax. I do yearn for more elevation though, as so much of the routine is focused on the ground.
Rarely does Mok fully extend a limb (her bow being the exception): I suppose this demonstrates the limitations autism, the condition which inspired Mok, at times imposes. When photos, video, shadow and silhouette converge in a second masterstroke (live and recorded projections are interwoven perhaps to demonstrate a fragmentation of the individual), it’s nothing short of spiritual. Real and imagined can no longer be differentiated as Mok makes a surprising leap into the screen. Oscillating between suffocating and life-affirming, Perceptual Landscape must be traversed by us all.