Indoor Weather is a per­for­man­ce made for the big sta­ge, a sce­nic poem with a site spe­ci­fic appro­ach to lar­ge, orna­te the­a­ters. The per­for­man­ce is struc­tu­red accor­ding to a ​“lands­ca­pe dra­ma­tur­gy”: rather than suc­ces­si­ve sce­nes, a lands­ca­pe of dif­fe­rent tracks and tra­jec­to­ries unfolds. These not only have their own rhythms, but also dis­tinc­ti­ve fic­ti­o­nal logics.

The fly bars sway, or see­min­gly dan­ce. A spea­ker feed­backs hor­ribly with some­o­ne’s microp­ho­ne. A gro­wing tan­g­le of lights and cables pul­ses and flic­kers, a mol­dy-loo­king light stain gra­du­al­ly spreads to dar­ker parts of the room. Debris falls down regu­lar­ly. There are also human per­for­mers, who move among the­se and wil­lin­gly or unwil­lin­gly inter­act with this ​‘bio-tech­ni­cal envi­ron­ment’. They pro­du­ce their envi­ron­ment and are simul­ta­neous­ly sha­ped by it.

Inspired by poe­try and sci­en­ce fic­ti­on, Indoor Weather attempts to visu­a­li­ze the often unsus­pec­ted inter­con­nec­ted­ness and inter­de­pen­d­en­cy within an eco­sy­s­tem. The tra­di­ti­o­nal­ly anthro­po­cen­tric the­a­ter beco­mes a site to tin­ker with the sto­ry we tell our­sel­ves about how things in the world rela­te to each other, our cosmology.