There are a few venues in and around Antwerp whose websites I now regularly check for interesting events and concerts. It’s on one of these websites that I came across “In between violet and green” by Atelier Bildraum and LOD muziektheater. Even after reading the entire description several times and watching the video used to advertise it, I still had no clue what to expect.
Naturally, I booked a ticket, and boy was it worth it.
It’s still difficult for me to explain just what it is, which honestly makes me love it even more. I love the things that don’t fit in boxes. The best way I can describe it is as an experience that stimulates the senses, well, two of them at least: sight and hearing.
You start out in a dark room, almost forgetting the rest of the audience around you because everyone, including yourself, is perfectly silent in anticipation because, like you, they don’t know what’s going to happen but trust that it will be beautiful. The music created by LOD is eerie to say the list, but it works so well with the beautiful visuals created for you on stage. The whole experience is utterly absorbing and leaves you wanting more. The whole piece is about an hour long but it felt like barely ten minutes and yet it managed to bring a certain kind of almost magical peace and calm to the audience.
I don’t want to say too much about the story they are trying to tell, in part because I probably missed half of it -let’s be honest, I’m not the best at getting underlying meanings and criticism- but more importantly because I hope you will get to experience the magic of it all for yourself at some point and in part because the story is secondary to the feeling. Art, in my opinion, should evoke feelings and “In between violet and green” did just that in a refreshing and surprising way that I would love to see more of.
‘Somewhere between violet and green, that’s where the colour lies that connects everything, there, somewhere in infinity, between the tints of air and water.’ – Claude Monet, from a letter to Paul Cézanne, c. 1869.