Touch Me
Touch me grants us an insight into a dreamlike universe of a recognisable but anonymous creature. It seems to come to terms with itself, yet repeatedly comes into conflict with it. In a bizarre series of tableaux, it shoots back and forth between fraught inertia and soothing bursts of energy.
The many facets of 'intimacy' are the guiding principles; its tenderness, hardness, vulnerability, loneliness, but also its beauty and comfort. What does intimacy do to yourself, to your body, to your self-image? And what if your own intimacy clashes with another's?
Touch me outlines that search in a chain of metamorphoses. Or the search(s) itself as essence, in the borderland where you dance with your shadow, and where being naked or masked blends seamlessly.
In the blink of an eye, it switches atmospheres, images, time and space. A taboo-free play with form and content that is infectious and at the same time perplexing. This is how Touch me also the back of things, and masterfully flirts with the boundaries of illusion and disillusion.