Friday night
Arrival
The first few come through the door. The sound is still low. People say hello and drop their coats on a chair that is about to disappear under coats.
Set times from 31 December 2024, shown as an example
64 artists who have come through the barn
Friday night
The first few come through the door. The sound is still low. People say hello and drop their coats on a chair that is about to disappear under coats.
In the middle of the night
The hour when the barn does what it does best. The haze climbs to the rafters, the light beams turn solid, and nobody looks at the time any more.
Saturday, at dawn
The sun rises on the dancefloor side and comes straight in: all you can see now are silhouettes. Nobody wants to be the one who says it out loud. The sound drops a notch, and the dancefloor empties slowly until midday.
Saturday, midday
The last dancers leave the dancefloor and the yoga mats take their place. Coffee, eggs, some sleep in the chill-out above the bar. The building hasn't stopped. It has changed jobs.
Saturday, at sunset
The stranger of the two. Those who slept come back fresh, those who didn't are somewhere else entirely, and everyone dances to the same track.
Saturday night
Slower, and denser. There is nobody left to convince, nothing left to prove, and the sets run longer.
Sunday, at dawn
Nothing like the first. A third of the crowd is left, and it is the best third. The sound has softened without ever stopping.
Sunday evening
The chairs come out into the yard. Someone puts water on to boil. The last hour is played downtempo for the fifteen still here.
Two days later, the barn is empty, the floor is sticky, and someone is putting away the cables. This is the part nobody photographs.
Join on TelegramThe collectives who brought them
Winnezeele, French Flanders · Scenography and lighting: Iluma Visual · What's missing
The dancers' steps are real motion-captured dances: DeepDance, Wallace, Nymoen, Martin and Tørresen (2022), CC BY 4.0.
Scroll, and time passes