For the past three days, I have been in my garden pruning a couple of wild-growing apple trees. It has given me occasion to appreciate the trees’ calmness, their vitality, their presence: the weight of the branches, their materiality, their very nature as living things are all aspects I have engaged with actively during those hours outdoors. Perhaps that is why it leaves such a strong impression on me when, on my way into Osmosis, I am greeted in the foyer by a kind of decapitated trees, reduced to trunks and roots.
These trees foreshadow what awaits inside the darkness of the performance space, illuminated only by a few scattered lamps. Here, other trees stand upside down in what the press material aptly describes as »an inverted nature.« The trees seem to grow not from the earth but from the ceiling, almost from the sky, and at times they even rotate. It is both beautiful and strange to behold. The eloquent silence of the trees is contrasted by two equally silent dancers whose bodies, on the floor below, find one another in tightly entwined and occasionally contorted positions.
