As the main approach to the lecture performance in Prague was sharing the state of our process at that point in time, it is rather difficult to present any kind of finished conclusions as concerns outcomes. However, the presentation and live performance of the various fragments of the work-in-progress sparked a fruitful discussion at the conference. Audience members shared and discussed their associations after having watched the performance. One of these associations concerned a section in which the performer left out several notes, while miming others. Audience members were experiencing the "missed notes" as a metaphor about the things we miss in life, for example. The focus on these missed notes, combined with the associations, brought me to other ideas in the artistic work. As the performer looks at the notes he "misses", he could also look to a different place in the performance space. This place can be the spot for the next location to play at. The performer continues to follow the things he might miss in life, with ever more desperation, as he never finds what he seeks.
One result of these admittedly rather artistic and associative steps, has been the next objective within the work process, a radicalization of what I termed "movement in a space". This movement will become much more extreme, to the point of total exhaustion of the performer. Within the work, the musician-performer will be moving between the different "virtual instruments" to such an extent that his physical presence will be radically intensified through relentless physical movement: running, rushing, jumping, eventually falling. This idea is a direct result of the stage of the work shown in Prague and at the same time adds a facet to the idea of "musical choreography" that I have not explored earlier. Interestingly, exhaustion has occurred quite frequently in the performing arts since the second half of the 20th century: the energetic and extreme choreographies of Belgian choreographer Wim Vandekeybus are just one well-known example; the physical theatre of the young Dutch collective Schwalbe  is another. However, in musical performance, physical exhaustion is much less common. The reason for this might be relatively straightforward: at least in classical and jazz music, total physical exhaustion is not the most conducive to playing an instrument or singing properly. A counterexample could be found in popular music, where artists such as Michael Jackson introduced the combination of singing with physically extremely demanding dance moves. However, exhaustion here is more possibly a side effect (in the case of less-trained performers), rather than a goal in itself––it is meant to be invisible, to be hidden behind show, entertainment and amazement. In my new artistic work, I strive for the exact opposite, to make this exhaustion explicit and tangible, the process made visible and experienceable. Strangely, it is exactly the absence of the instruments that seems to make this approach toward exposing exhaustion more possible.
How small the impact of this discovery might possibly be, there is one point I would like to make as a first sub-conclusion. What the presentation at the conference, the subsequent discussion and the ensuing reflection reveal is the extent to which such a lecture performance can have an impact on and how much it can benefit a process of artistic research. The presentation that Maarten Zaagman and I gave in Prague had the essential aim of sharing the process. The inspiring feedback we received brought us to the next phase in which the artistic work will continue to evolve. This could not have occurred in the same way without having presented it while it was in such a vulnerable and inceptive stage. Both as artist as well as researcher, I am grateful for being able to share this contribution to the domain of artistic research presentation and dissemination forms as well as to the field of process-based artistic work.