An anger, a fearlessness, draped in haze. Bodies dragging, or being dragged. Brief moments of tenderness. In Dam Van Huynh’s Exquisite Noise, all of these things are set in a sensory intensity that spreads from the stage into the auditorium, an emotional infection to be absorbed or embodied by the viewer. Rooted in the idea that noise is a democratic tool for assembly and solidarity, Exquisite Noise is less about storytelling than about collective awakening. What emerges is an onto-epistemological choreography: a sensorial experience of bodies, lights, and sounds that redefines the essence of noise as a political gesture and a deeply human ritual.
As the work’s title implies, noise is forthright and celebrated. Two dancers sit opposite each other in an almost-silence. Only the soft breath of my own body can be heard, the odd shuffle of a foot somewhere in the audience. The seconds stretch into minutes until time is obscured. The air thickens with anticipation until their noses touch and suddenly the stillness is broken with an unearthly scream: mouth into mouth where intimacy collapses into eruption. The dancers’ screams morph into layers of guttural sound that soon consume the space yet take on notes of a musical interval. Under strobe lights, their throats seem to merge into a singular, stammering worm. Here, conflict and closeness are indistinguishable, setting the paradox of individuality and collectivism. Moreover, the sudden switch from silence to an unforgiving cacophony shatters the supposed security just seconds before, an uncomfortable metaphor perhaps, on shifting states and countries. And the noise continues.
Van Huynh’s long-term collaborator and sound artist, Ian Tang, is responsible for the sound of Exquisite Noise. Electronic hum, a fizz the texture of white noise and harsh rhythms splinter visual flashes of agency, power play and disruption. The volume and persistence of the noise reverberate through the skull, transforming from audio perception to vibrations absorbed deep into the viewers’ nervous system. Two performers chant into a microphone: “My body, breathes in; your body, breathes out”, recalling Zen master Thích Nhất Hạnh’s teachings on interconnectedness. Their voices distort each other, an auditory choke signalling the fragility of communication under pressure. Later, as the words “We share a common interest, survival” (Audre Lorde) resound, the performers blur into silhouettes under dim lighting. Sirens pierce the air, dissolving texts into white noise as an urgent call to advocating for human rights. As with Van Huynh’s other recent work, In Realness, Exquisite Noise could not be more topical. Both works act as strong provocateurs to take action and recognise the humanity in troubling times. Exquisite Noise in particular delves into the impact people have on each other, whether through harm or help.
As a green haze intensifies until the dancers fade to silhouettes, the audience too is engulfed in a mix of sound and a near blindness. The mass of bodies shrouded in haze is haunting but somehow feels tactile. Tyres become wells into which dancers scream, the space trembling with repressed voices. In the pre-show talk and our interview with Van Huynh, tyres are acknowledged as a symbol of the horrors people can commit, but also as a representation of cyclic patterns. It’s a huge shake-up for those watching, our static bodies taking on a broad span of stimuli, but power through noise hatches an uncanny emotional reaction. Rage rises in the music’s crescendo, softening at signs of comfort when a dancer might put their hand on someone’s shoulder. It is impossible to watch and remain unmoved. Nothing about Exquisite Noise is easy, but its expression of sensory and political challenges are undoubtedly necessary. Furiously outspoken, the work leaves you buzzing with confusion at the scope for cruelty that humanity possesses, but also with hope for better times.