The creature
When we rehearsed Hrafntinna, we would play long stretches of improvisation, with a deep focus, almost like a concert. We would talk and take breaks between stretches of improvisation. During rehearsals and a workshop show at the Idno theater in Reykjavik in september 2021, I noticed that a new element was unfolding in me as a performer that I had never experienced before.
During improvisations I had sub-consciously started to become a character, some kind of conductor creature that was evolving without me really knowing it.
The beautiful thing with the group and the creative method was that when this happened, we talked about it, acknowledged it and we just let it continue to grow and evolve on its own.
The character grew and developed during the last stages of rehearsals and at the premiere it had become a central dramaturgical aspect of the piece.
What was very interesting was that I myself had the feeling of becoming the piece, there was no longer a distinction between me and the piece or between myself and the creature or the story that had developed.
The creature is animalistic, dangerous, beautiful and wild. It comes out of the underworld where it rules and enjoys its magnificent realm. The low range instruments, double bass, bass clarinet and accordeon are the creatures companions in the underworld. The singers are not allowed to sing or move freely in the underworld, they move extremely slow and restricted, as moving through lava.
The creature comes up into the water where there is more life and colours and the singers can suddenly talk and sing and move more freely in this element. We move in water and are affected by each other like ripples and waves affect each other.
The creature choses one of the male singers as a second conductor. She gives him power and for a short time he conducts the group, until he collapses.
Now she moves up to the earth surface with its cracks and stony, hard surface. The creature dances a Black Walz where she enjoys her own beauty in an expression of her feminine side.
Then comes the thunder and the earthquake where nobody knows what's going to happen.
In the turmoil, the creature tries to make the performers do what she wants through forced movements and through the electronic glove; a tool that conquers all other sounds.
The intensity increases and an outburst of energy takes place where the singers are pushed to almost impossible limits of singing and the conductor creature swirls faster and faster. This is the eruption, her ego has reached unfathomable heights.
It is too much to bear.
Everything collapses. the creature implodes and falls to the ground. Silence.
She lies there for a long while.
Then comes a melody performed by the alto flute and a singer with the text: “Trees flutter in the soft wind” The singers start to sing to the creature with warmth, compassion and sadness while gathering around her. They sing the choral “Hrjúfir og mjúkir steinar i fjörunni”- “Soft and rough stones on the shore” A lament for nature.
The creature tries one last time to rule by the glove, but the glove stops functioning.
She gives up and then she feels the sadness. Now the controlling part of the creature is completely gone, it is no longer there.
Left is only a person, stripped of everything, defenseless, nobody or anybody, totally vulnerable.
Now there is only relating, exchange and a vulnerable openness to contact.
I see this creature unfolding in the context of human’s attempt to control nature. How we pretend that we are not nature. What we miss by that approach and the sadness connected to our losses. It can also be seen as a scenic interpretation of how control inhibits human contact and vulnerability.