Staff writer Amélie Acevedo watched two performances this Thursday hosted in the Barnard Movement Lab as part of the Artificial Environments/Environmental Intelligence Festival.

The Movement Lab is unlike any room I have entered during my time at Barnard thus far. On the outside, it appears to be a normal classroom below Milstein’s first floor. Upon entering, you are greeted by a large expanse of space, accompanied by audio-visual equipment, and an atmosphere electrically charged by performers eager to put on a show. 

The smell of sunscreen hung thick in the air, and it hit me as soon as I stepped into the space. I felt like I was instantly transported to a sunny summer day, where the stress of finals week lay far behind me. I couldn’t help but feel intense anticipation as I took my seat on a floor cushion and stared out at the performers of The Blue Zone from across the room. 

The Blue Zone was performed by Abby Mankin, BC ’25, Liz Radway, CC ‘24, and Katie Sponenburg, BC ‘24. Even before the dance began, they sat ready, striking a pose on a beach towel and chairs. When the lights went down, the sound of seagulls could be heard in the distance. Soon, a funky rhythmic song began to play, and the lights came back up. The dancers moved to the rhythm for a moment, before resuming their lazy beach poses, eliciting the first of many laughs from the audience. 

The music transitioned from funky rhythmic sounds to “Seabird” by Alessi Brothers, and then to “Ocean Man” by Ween throughout the dance. The juxtaposition of music, accompanied by a highly humorous, yet skilled, dance performance, left the audience mesmerized. 

At one point, the screen behind the dancers became filled with whales. Mankin, Radway, and Sponenburg then acted out a whale’s consumption of what appeared to be a fish? Or perhaps a human? The performance ended with the dancers lying on the ground in front of a large image of fried fish and french fries (or chips if you’re from the UK) with their faces plastered on the individual fried fish. 

During the intermission, the audience was asked to get up and place their cushions in a U shape around the floor to prepare for the second performance. Everyone quickly placed their cushions down in the correct formation, so seamlessly that it felt like the audience members were part of the showcase itself. The audience watched wide-eyed as Sophie Craig took the floor enshrouded in darkness.

The performance of Dreaming Animals resonated with me, and by the looks on the faces of the rest of the audience, it resonated with many others, as well. It felt raw and personal, yet inviting. Sophie Craig’s one-woman performance was a captivating and heart-wrenching display of the ways in which grief presents itself. 

Dreaming Animals opens with a girl attempting to communicate with her older sister, Bea. Bea is somewhat dismissive, and for good reason. She struggles to sleep most nights, this being one of those nights. Craig wants to talk, but Bea desperately wants to fall asleep. The performance takes place over the course of four nights, with each night following a similar rhythm. Craig tries to reach out to her sister unsuccessfully, all the while recalling memories of her grandmother. She longs to know more about her, not just her funeral, but her life—about what she was like. 

Craig is simultaneously the old man of the sea and a young girl. She is strong, powerful, and capable, stoic behind a mask. She can build a boat, and she can sail it, too. But despite all this, she also needs her older sister, Bea. She needs someone who can quietly acknowledge her grief and say “I know how it feels.” The performance ends with Craig being woken from her slumber by a voice telling her that it’s time to wake up. She stirs, and the lights come up. 

Dreaming Animals perfectly displays what it’s like to lose a loved one. Emotions surrounding the loss can be conflicting, and how you approach the healing process is different for everyone, even between family members. There must be admiration for the vulnerability it takes to perform something so personal and difficult to put into words, yet universally experienced. I hope to return to the Movement Lab in the future, so that I may once again get to experience the brilliance that lies within the creative minds of the performers that walk across that room. 

The Movement Lab will host its next event on March 7th at 6:00 pm. The event is entitled “MeMoSa: FUNGAL EARTH,” and it is a film screening accompanied by conversations hosted by artist-in-residence Djassi daCosta Johnson. 

Image via iPhone camera roll.