Chang Xu

Without a real performer, this is a simple show unfolds in A Theatre. In the local center, there stands a theatre supported by scaffolding. Its name long forgotten. Decades ago, the local government found itself at a loss with this huge machine. On a February morning, demolition began but was abandoned halfway, leaving it in a state of awkward redundancy. In the years after the early morning of February, and even today, perhaps in a much more distant future. From dusk to midnight to dawn, In its endless sleep, it is haunted by fleeting moments of poetry, by the affair between reality and fiction, by stage quirks and pranks, by terror and ridicule, melancholy and ecstasy. It absurdly conjures forgotten gestures, rehearsing smalls things into scenes that never quite settle by its own. Will it encounter an anonymous audience, or will it actually stage an outcome, the answer is haunting in the endless rain, faulty clouds, and the drifting snow.

This works explores the subtle moments that make mundane life feel unfamiliar. In a world that is gradually becoming more materialistic and monetized, what place is left for poetry hidden in the cracks?