^{Rehearsal of <Cascade Passage>. Filming: Paik Jongkwan}

4:42 PM. U-u-u-ung————————— Inside Theater 1 at the National Asia Culture Center, shrouded in darkness, a massive section of the stage is being lifted high through a concealed lift mechanism below. The high-decibel sound of the machinery is steady, and it is not particularly bothersome. U-u-u-ung————————— I set up the camera behind the rising stage and look through an opening in the iron frame of the lift to observe the empty stage on the opposite side. Red warning lights begin to flash. As the lift mechanism ascends, the angles formed by the interlocking frames continually change, and the number and size of the openings through which the opposite side can be viewed also keep shifting. Consequently, the distant, blinking red lights take on different shapes with each moment as they reach here. The changing images are simply beautiful. The light from the lamp scrapes, caresses, or rubs against every wall of the theater before barely making its way through a small gap to reach the camera lens. As the rhythm of the flashing light begins to blend with the sound of the machinery... Uuuuung————————— Ku-gu-gu-woong————————— Ku-gu-woong. A different sound. The sound ceases. The movement of the stage has stopped. The noisy and cumbersome motion of the large structure has ended. The blinking lights now assume a consistent shape as they pass through the lens.

I brought three cameras and a handheld camcorder, setting them up in various locations around the theater to capture both the rehearsal and performance scenes. I slightly adjusted the camera positions for each rehearsal and performance. The reason for employing multiple concepts in the shooting simultaneously was that the performance, as previously mentioned, unfolded in such a way that the perceived light and events varied greatly.

The primary narrative driving the performance continuously shifted its location. Since the performers include not only humans but also various mechanical devices constituting the theater, focusing solely on the performers and the audience with the cameras risked missing other significant events that ultimately define their movement.

The audience's understanding of the situation is guided not only by the human guide and the announcement sound within the performance but also by the vibrations and light fragments generated by the massive machinery. Therefore, the camera needs to track not only the light but also the sound and its sources.

The ways in which a theater is utilized in a performance are diverse. How concretely the world of the events is realized on stage and to what extent it allows for imagination varies from performance to performance. Stories set decades or centuries ago, or events taking place light-years away from Earth in the distant future, can all be staged within the same theater and on the same stage. Amidst countless choices, what remains constant are the physical mechanisms of the theater and the traces left by their movements. Sometimes, these traces themselves become not just remnants but elements that drive the narrative performance. The surface of the theater, its tremors, scars, and echoes. U-u-u-ung————————— Ku-gu-woong. The audience, who previously felt only the small area beneath their feet in contact with the theater, now presses their backs against the rising stage seats and experiences the transformation of the theater with their entire bodies. U-u-u-ung————————— U-u-u-ung————————— So, what does this transformation signify? Is it possible to connect with the time suggested by the performance's narrative? The hands of the audience, gripping the armrests, tremble as they reach towards the floor of the ascending stage. The chill of the floor, the dust on it—but now it is not the floor but rather a surface floating in mid-air (glancing sideways reveals the floor below, halted). A surface suspended in the air. The skin that produces sound.

If only one phase existed in my simple imagination before, now two or more phases appear simultaneously, and their phase differences evoke thoughts, creating strange but natural situations amidst the forest of the unknown.

At some point, a sense of presence was felt in the dark forest. As the stage lights came on, indeed, the camera monitor revealed individuals moving suddenly while wearing headsets. These were the staff members operating the machinery and checking the safety devices. Waiting for the next rehearsal, they are now the most bored people in the world. During the long wait, they sit with their backs pressed against the seats, heads down, staring at their smartphones. Eventually, they lift their heads and gaze blankly at the opposite seats. A time when no sounds can be heard. A time when no events occur. Yet, it is a time that carries an abundance of potential events.

In the vast space, the small movements of the staff are stifling. They also appear in the performance. The audience will witness their labor. The relentless sweeping action. In fact, one of the key objects that blocks and reflects light during the performance is their bodies. The performance is designed that way. Their bodies, now so bored, are perfect in the final beam of light at the end of the journey.

^{Rehearsal of <Cascade Passage>. Filming: Paik Jongkwan}

^{Translated by ChatGPT}