The Final Girl

We sat down with the artists to find out just exactly what Dripfeed.tv is all about.

Do you want to explain what Dripfeed.tv is?

Tarren—We wanted to make a body of work that would span several years and come out in slow increments. So, drip feed, like you would drip feed oil into an engine. Dripfeed is messy and falling apart, it's incapable of transcending the environment in which it is taking place, so you see the failure of its fiction. We are interested in the failure of a given narrative to stay cohesive in a performance. Sometimes the characters will achieve a seamless transformation, but we show you the process of this and what its limits are.

We were looking at American entertainment and the kinds of formats that have maintained from vaudevillian, to the variety show, daytime television, reality TV, through to social media.

It's about spatializing the way that narratives exist fragmented in your mind. The characters are not three dimensional or fully fleshed out, rather, we give material to the performers and through the process of repetition and rehearsal see what can happen in the moment. You can watch them embody the material then get thrown back into their own subjectivity.

That reminds me a bit of Out 1 by Jacques Rivette where a group is inside a film rehearsing a play. I wanted to ask if you would connect it to existing praxes where people are trying to collapse the 4th wall like Brecht or French New Wave etc?

T—I was reading about pornography and curiosa and what happened with the rise of user generated content, where its not about production value, but rather the singularity of the moment, and intimacy, where this thing is only happening once and it's happening for you.

Pornography is really interesting because ultimately you are staging reality and playing around with that script and seeing when it collapses or has an “authentic” moment.

T—That's something we were thinking about.

...and is also very Californian!

Joel—We're filming it in a slightly creepy way with the handycams. It looks like it's filmed for someone's personal collection.

T—It's invasive. Can you watch explicit content innocently or are you implicated by the fact you are watching? We often now see warnings of “contains graphic violence” on social media for example. I think there has always been a connection between trauma and entertainment.

I think there has always been a connection between trauma and entertainment.

I definitely agree with that in the form of popular music.

T—Could you elaborate on that?

Blues, rap, disco; It's usually centered around violence, sadness or loss.

T—Yes absolutely, and the new episode of Dripfeed centres around a troupe of Final Girls, the female archetype from slasher films who confronts and survives the killer. In Dripfeed, this group of final girls come together to process their trauma through performance. Throughout the story they discuss how competitive the conditions are, and how they are being pitted against one another. What is the ideal final girl? There’s a line, “You have to hold whatever hope you have next to the terrors which cannot be unseen." Who will be the one to deliver these messages of female trauma and suffering? I think of Me Too and partly of Greta Thunberg. Why is she the correct messenger for the horrific messages we have to hear? What makes her the best public face?

It's interesting the connection with the Final girl as this survivor of trauma and then if someone goes viral they have to have the most suffering in order to be heard. You can't be successful having a relatively safe or stable life, which maybe says a lot about how society is structured.

T—The Final Girl as an archetype feels very appropriate for the times. Society is collectively having to confront the monstrous aspects of itself and we are living through significant perspective shifts. It's typical in slasher films for the viewer to adopt the perspective of the killer, and then at some point flip and start siding with the Final Girl.

So it feels like a nation of Final Girls?

T—(Laughs) Yes, the Final Girl is a complex figure and in this story she's not a virgin and she's not innocent, nor is she the ultimate victim. We' re still figuring her out but she's definitely an archetype that's worth looking at again.

She’s a figure who breaks through this weird binary of good or evil...

T—Absolutely, we're living in a time where we are getting further away from the complexity of human experience. With feminine desire in particular, there's less territory, we're shrinking. We're not allowed to talk about things that would truly complicate these woke narratives about what is appropriate to be writing, speaking or making art about.

That reminds of that film “Secretary” from 2002, and not to be too topical but it is like the discourse around Philip Guston where some people are deciding for other people how they should or would think about a certain work, but if we look at this film or painting, allowing people to decide for themselves what something is or isn’t depicting, then having a permissive ban on how someone is allowed to react on their own terms with context.

T—Yes and Dripfeed.tv is this autonomous space that we have carved out over years for us to turn back to, there are no barriers for us. We get commissioned from different theaters or different platforms but we ultimately own that space and it's us that decides what happens there. It's unapologetically messy, it tries to materialize psychological spaces.

J—It's dreamlike.

T—The singularity of the event comes from the fact that it's not a polished product that has been rehearsed for 6 months, it's not seeking to be a professional film, it's seeking to capture something that you could have only seen one time and we are going to capture it on video.

Culture

The Club Is Coming to the Stage

We enter and make our way to what is approximately front left of the DJ booth, where we’re accustomed to dancing at clubs in New York. “So is this a techno club or a dance performance?” yells an uncertain participant in my boyfriend’s ear. He laughs, bouncing along to Ben UFO, and yells back, “It’s both!” The club has long been a hot topic in European contemporary dance but it is only now making its way into New York performance venues, largely through transatlantic tours. R.O.S.E. follows recent examples like Michele Rizzo’s HIGHER xtn. at MoMA PS1 (May 2024), (LA)HORDE’s Room with a View at NYU Skirball (October 2023), and Gisèle Vienne’s Crowd at BAM (October 2022).

Do these performances compromise the club’s spirit — a space idealized for its anonymity, dark lighting, and thundering music? The notion of the club as a utopian escape is admittedly just that — an ideal — because of how its intense conditions can create barriers to entry. Still, the club remains sacred for many, a place to forge connections and embrace an alternative state of being. Looking at how performances transfer this spirit to new settings reveals what aspects of the club are essential and those that aren’t.

Sharon Eyal, R.O.S.E. 2024. Photography by Stephanie Berger, courtesy of Park Avenue Armory.

Eyal’s dancers make their entrance. The lighting shifts from roving blue to yellow spotlights as Ben UFO’s tracks transition to more melodic beats. Clad in deconstructed lace Dior lingerie with dark red tears painted on their faces, the dancers move cautiously in a tightly maintained pack, slicing paths through the horde with hoof-like steps and jerky leg extensions. After around ten minutes of this controlled choreography, the dancers vanish as the lighting shifts back to blue and Ben UFO picks up his dubby beats. The club, as we knew it, resumes. This cycle of tightly executed movements and free-flowing club-goers repeats several times, each time emboldening the dancers to plunge further into the crowd.

Clubbing in a building once built for the U.S. Army National Guard on Manhattan’s Upper East Side turns out to be surprisingly successful — at least for the audience. What starts as an awkward, scattered group searching for their non existent seats gradually gels into an engaged, bouncing crowd that erupts in cheers each time the dancers enter and exit. Performance patrons who might never step foot in a club find themselves swept up in its potential for communion, moving in unison with fellow ticket holders. But it isn’t until the very end of R.O.S.E. that the dancers finally break free from Eyal’s choreography and join the fired-up audience in a brief moment of improvisatory movement with the music. By keeping her dancers at arm’s length, Eyal seems more interested in the club as a backdrop for her signature movement style than wholly as a space with meaningful stories to be told.

Michele Rizzo, HIGHER xtn. 2024. Photography by Cameron Kelly courtesy of MoMA PS1.

Back in May, I attended Wire Festival, a multiday electronic music event at Knockdown Center that had no shortage of organically united dancefloors. It attracted a crowd of seasoned ravers who were eager to celebrate the start of spring as they danced alongside DJs who played well into the daylight. I left Wire in an afternoon daze to see Michele Rizzo’s HIGHER xtn. at MoMA PS1. My sleepless euphoria only deepened as the performance unfolded, starting with a lone dancer who looked plucked out of the festival.

The dancer, dressed in sneakers, baggy jeans, and a tight tank top, shuffled slowly into the gallery, perfectly in sync with the looping bars of an understated electronic melody. Soon, other dancers, clad in the same staple rave uniform, joined him — each having traveled from Europe for the U.S. museum debut of HIGHER xtn., which premiered at the Stedelijk in Amsterdam in 2018 and quickly became a fixture at kunsthalles and festivals across the continent. As the score’s tempo climbed, the choreography locked into a 16-count sequence, which the dancers executed with precise synchrony. They remained intensely focused, never making eye contact with each other, as they sought release in the endless repetition of synthesized beats. Once the dancers reached their limit, they stopped the sequence and exited the gallery, one by one.

HIGHER xtn. used the focused daylight of the gallery to highlight the meditative release found in the repetitive movements that dominate dark dancefloors. The performance’s restraint brought more consistency and intentionality than Eyal’s all-encompassing club construction in R.O.S.E. Yet both performances offer enticing entry points into club culture for those who may not frequent raves. Rizzo’s ecstatic, hypnotic repetitions reveal how the club can mirror other meditative practices, while Eyal’s interpolation of performance and clubbing helped hesitant audience members blossom by the end. Still, both works overlook one of the most underappreciated aspects of clubbing — its potential for individual expression. HIGHER xtn.’s pristine uniformity especially risks promoting the outdated techno trope that there’s a “right” way to dance to electronic music.

Maybe this shortcoming is, in fact, a benefit. For habitual ravers jaded by one too many sunrise sets, it’s a reminder to return to the club with more intention. If you pause and peer through the darkness, you’ll see hundreds of people moving to the same beat, each with their own subtle variations. This collective choreography is a ready-made spectacle that doesn’t need validation in a theater or museum. And when the music shifts slightly, you can watch the ripple effect sweep through the crowd while feeling the new beat in your body. Maybe this small bit of magic is best left on the dance floor.

Culture

Real Slick, Jack: Psyche Organic Arrives in New York

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Culture

Porsche SCOPES Brings Art, Music, and Design to Toronto

The festival was a full immersion into Toronto’s dynamic creative energy. Day one set the tone with DJ collective Living Room, followed by an experimental performance by Claire Rousay that captivated the crowd. Jewelry designer Steff Eleoff unveiled her Porsche Taycan 4S art car installation—a bold fusion of automotive and wearable art inspired by her Sedona ring—while OVO Sound’s Naomi Sharon and DVSN wrapped up the night with powerful, genre-defying performances.

We witnessed SCOPES Toronto bridging underground and mainstream with day two’s lineup. DJ Korea Town Acid’s set paved the way for Angelphroot and Dameer’s debut of BASSMATI, a track blending South Asian influences with bass-driven sounds. Chippy Nonstop’s return to Toronto and Richie Hawtin’s extended set were milestones of the evening, proving that the city’s underground scene has a global resonance.

The final day featured standout performances from local pianist Harrison, Indigenous artist Tia Wood, and hip-hop visionary Sean Leon, who elevated his set with a live choir. Moonshine Collective’s film and musical performance explored themes of African utopia, showcasing art’s power to bridge culture and technology. Rising Toronto star SadBoi, who paused her tour to perform at SCOPES, further underscored the festival’s commitment to nurturing local talent.

Throughout the weekend, we experienced installations from artists like Mitsu Mitsu and culinary creations from Bar Mordecai, capturing the multifaceted creativity Porsche SCOPES brought to Toronto. This milestone 10th edition, open to all, allowed Toronto’s vibrant arts scene to thrive, underscoring SCOPES’ mission to celebrate local talent while connecting it to a global audience.

office had the chance to connect with rising star SadBoi ahead of the event. In our conversation, she shared insights into her creative journey and reflected on what performing and growing up in Toronto means to her and her work.

How are you, and where are you at right now? You told me you were traveling.

Um, I’m good, I’m feeling really good right now. I’m traveling back to Salt Lake City. I had a show yesterday in Seattle. I’m on tour right now with Coco and Claire.

How is touring life treating you? Do you like it?

I love being on the road. To be honest, I feel like I don’t know—like I’ve had good experiences and bad ones—but this time it’s really fun, especially with the people I’m surrounded by. It’s also the longest tour I’ve been on; I have about four more weeks to go. I’m trying not to think about how many days I have left.

Do you feel homesick?

Yes, because when I start thinking about how many days are left, I start to miss my dogs. I’ve just been trying to stay in the moment—I don’t even know what day of the week it is, to be honest with you.

Oh, sweet! What are your dogs’ names?

Jillian and Winston. I know, they’re crazy names.

You’ll be performing at SCOPES in Toronto, which is where you grew up. Do you feel like the crowd is different when you perform in Toronto compared to other cities?

Yes, I mean, Toronto just feels different because it’s home. Every time I come back to perform, something in my career has changed. The last time I performed in Toronto, people just wanted to have a good time, and I’m excited to perform back home again to see everyone’s reactions. I know it’s going to be different from the last time. It’s exciting to see your own growth. Toronto is a tough crowd, though. If we’re with you, we’re really with you.

So, they’re super picky? You have to gain their respect, or what is it?

I think Toronto people are in their own world, but when something really connects with them, they’ll lose themselves in the moment. But it takes something to bring them out of that. Toronto crowds are tough because even if they like you, they won’t show it outright until they’re really vibing with you.

It’s like a vibe check, right?

Exactly. They’ll enjoy your performance, but it’s hard to explain. When people visit Toronto, they often say, “Oh, you guys are so nice,” and I’m like, “I don’t think we’re that nice, we’re just polite.” Like, you can walk down the street, and no one will say anything, but it’s just our mannerisms.

You mentioned Toronto can have a moody energy, especially at night, and that the underground night scene there really inspires you. Can you talk more about what makes Toronto's nightlife so influential for you?

Absolutely, Toronto has this unique energy that comes alive at night. Similar to New York, there are the popular clubs everyone knows, but you need to find your niche—the people who know where the real parties are. I remember going to raves in high school yards, sneaking in because I wasn’t old enough. Events like Baby, Jerk!, and Yes Yes Y’all were pivotal, exposing me to DJs blending dancehall with EDM—something I hadn’t seen before. Toronto nightlife is moody and intense, but when everyone’s out, it’s like the whole city is alive.