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Aweng Chuol Cannot Be Boxed In
AWENG wears FULL LOOK by MIISTA
When Chuol immigrated to Australia with her mother and eleven siblings, she reached a newfound consciousness, new obstacles to overcome, and a new life to get used to. Throughout her formative years, she had finally arrived at a point where she could call Sydney, Australia her home. Over time, she found comfort once again in her long legs, high cheekbones, deep skin, and full lips. Everything that led up to that moment had proved to be worth it.
Discovered while she was a student studying law, it was kismet for the powerhouse model to become a household name. “Aweng” is a sacred name, meaning “cow” in her native language, an animal that brings pride to its people. Chuol is bringing pride to all iterations of herself. From her many geographical journeys, to her internal journeys of navigating life, love, and constant change, Aweng Chuol is a woman who cannot be boxed in.
On an early Tuesday morning, right after her meditation session, we spoke about her manifestations, her tenacious spirit, and the oral history that keeps her connected to her culture.
I appreciate how you’ve chosen your own narrative outside of what others have chosen for you. How do you stay authentic throughout your ever-growing career?
I think it's just having the right source of energy around you. All my friends, my agents, and you know, I'm a first born, I'm a double Libra, so it's like being grounded. It's innate in me because of the way that I was raised and my personal experiences before fashion. I'm not the model that had magazines as a kid. I’m not the model that was watching all these amazing films of Hollywood and like, New York City. I'm from Australia, that's just so out there from where I'm from. So, thinking about the 18 years of life that I got to live before I got into entertainment, definitely helps a lot, to be honest.
How would you describe punk culture and how do you interpret it?
Avril Lavigne is the punk-est culture I know. And when P!NK first came out, she was the epitome of punk in my head.
I like the way you dress yourself, like your personal style is so cool. How does your personal style align with punk culture and your identity?
I think my personal style fluctuates. It has its ebbs and flows. I think it depends on the season that I'm in, like, right now, I’m the hot girl season. So, I’m wearing the Matte brand, I'm wearing Ottolinger, I'm layering, like, and then even my CFDA look, it was the Di Petsa and their whole thing is body, water waves, my stylist added jewelry stacked jewelry. Adding gold, mixing color, mixing jewelry, I think it's my essence. If I'm wearing a hairstyle that's up, and my hands are empty and my legs are bare, then. I like to then layer jewelry on my hands and my ears.
What are some of the most rebellious things you’ve felt you needed to do?
I think my entrance into fashion behind-the-scenes was very rebellious. When I got confirmed for the Vetements show, when I first got discovered, they flew me from Sydney, Australia, literally my hometown, into Paris, and I had told my family that I wanted to go to Paris, and I had a big option in Paris, and, you know, they didn't, they didn't believe that I'm going to Paris to walk one show. Me and my parents kind of got into it, and I just basically sneaked out of the country.
You didn’t put that in your essay for Elle!
No, [laughs]. I literally ended up in Paris. And I was like, “Yeah, I'm in Paris, Mom!” What can you do now across the world, you know? Now you just pray that I get home safely and all of that. When I got home, I think I was grounded for two weeks straight, but then I already had the energy and the touch of traveling. So I was like, “Okay, I'm gonna go again.” And this time, obviously, I told him when I was going back to London.
You were 18 at the time right?
I was at the time in Australia, and you think, oh, you're an adult at 18, but [you know] African cultures.
Right! I also come from an immigrant household. When I turned 18 I thought I could do all these things but my mom was not about it.
Yeah! My mom was not letting me go into Hollywood.
Didn’t your mom say to reach out to that lady who gave you the card?
She didn't think that it would actually bring anything. When you're young, between the age of 16 and 18, I think that's when people tried to scout me for things. So, she didn't 100% think anything was gonna happen but I had another option right before Vetements and it fell through, and then the Vetements option came through.
LEFT: AWENG wears GOWN by C-PLUS SERIES, SHOES by THOM SOLO, RIGHT: AWENG wears TOP and SHORTS by MACCAPANI, BOOTS by LARUICCI
Your coming out story was a huge moment that you shared with the world. How did you come to the decision to let the world in on your personal life?
I think for me, I just did it. I was always the rebellious kid. I was always the black sheep. I was always that kid. My mom knew from a very young age I was gonna test her, like 110%. I was born at 7am in the morning when she was going for her walk. She said, "This child is literally a menace.” So coming out wasn't really coming out. I just bought someone home. I said, “Hey, this is this. Any objections?” I’ve always been a diplomatic kind of person and a justice [oriented] kind of person. One thing I realized, too, is people will get comfortable if you decide whatever you decide on that day. That might be uncomfortable for a while, but they will have to just get comfortable. That's just it, if they're gonna stay in your life.
I related to the way that you wrote about feeling guilty for leaving your family. I’m also first-born from an immigrant household. Does that guilt still come up sometimes or has it subsided?
100% it does. I even had my therapy session yesterday morning. I have therapy every Monday at like 8am and my therapist, an amazing Black woman, by the way; she and I were speaking about the feeling of whether your siblings resent you for doing life in a way without them being fully involved. My siblings, they're all in Australia. Australia is not like Miami or Los Angeles or New York. It's 25 hours, and that's on a good day. I can't really get up and leave when I'm trying to build an empire or a career, or longevity in my career here. I have 11 younger siblings, so I watched a lot of them be born, and then now graduating. So the guilt never really goes away, but I've just learned that we're all individuals in this life, and we all have paths that we have to follow. It's obviously ultimate love and unconditional love.There'll be a point where I'll be able to go there, or they'll be able to come here and stay for a bit longer. I think it's growing pains, that's the thing about siblingship. There are a lot of growing pains that society doesn't really speak about.
Are you close with your mom as well?
My mom is 15 years my senior. So she and I grew up together. I watched my mom go through her 20s, and now I am going through my 20s, and she's in her 40s. I'm like, I get it. I kind of get why you were wilding out [laughs].
If there was any place you could go at the snap of a finger, where would it be?
I would go to South Sudan, because my grandma is there, and she is the sweetest woman ever. When I go back to Sudan, all she does is wake up and have coffee with ginger and then speak to me about her entire life and her mom's life. She just loves to tell stories. I'm more of a writer, so I don't really have much to say to her. So, that exchange is so intimate between her and I, and she's just my peace. She's literally just my peace, my dad's mother. Then another choice, selfishly speaking, Hawaii, I've never been, but I just think about being under coconuts. and Bretman Rock lives out there, and I feel like he lives such a peaceful life. I would love to just experience that first day, even with the chickens and everything. He's living his best life. That's my favorite manifester, right there. He's amazing.
I love the way that you talk about your grandmother. Passing down oral history is so important.
So important, because libraries get burned down. We know that now. They get removed by politics. So, oral knowledge is so important for the human experience, and culturally, we actually do more oral passing down with my native language. They haven’t started having books on it until recently.
Even those traditional types of things being passed down. I saw a dad practicing haka with his baby.
I think it's so spiritual. I saw the haka being done in the New Zealand Parliament. I went to law school, so I love politics. I can talk about politics all day, and I just I cried, because they ripped the paper and then to performed. And being able to be stopped—that's just so powerful. I hope it gets passed the way they wanted to pass it, to be honest.
Oh, wait, did you finish law school? Like you finished?
I didn't get to finish. I have one more year left, and I have two years to decide whether I go back or not. It's just my schedule. I have so much that I want to do in fashion and entertainment, period. It's one of those things. I will go back to school 100%, I want to get multiple degrees. I just want to learn. I think I'll go back, it’s never too late for that.
Definitely, never too late. I don't think it's ever too late to just start over. What type of law did you study?
I did International Relations, majoring in International Policies. So I wanted that to be my ultimate goal. I wanted to be part of the United Nations body for South Sudan. I was 17 when I decided that. I just started working extra hard, getting extra credits, getting in early, and then the universe was like, “You need to go into fashion.” I was like, “Okay, let's go!”
You don't really seem like a person that really cares to present themselves a certain way, I like that you're not really fearful of being perceived. Do you see yourself as a role model like the supermodels that came before you?
For my siblings, I've always been a role model, because I'm the eldest sibling, and I grew up with my mother. I think there were instances in our relationship where she saw me as a role model versus when I saw her as such. I see her as a role model because she's my mother, you know. I definitely do think I'm a role model. When I walk outside, kids, teenagers, people in the industry, or my peers come up to me and I'm like, “Thank you.” I know I'm being perceived. I am careful with some things, but in essence, I'm just a Aweng. and a Aweng is busy doing this, or Aweng just did this cover, or this campaign.There's perception there, but I think in being a role model, I just try to kind of make sure anyone that's watching me knows that the world's a mess but we're gonna be okay and to be kind.
AWENG wears DRESS by TAOTTAO, BOOTS By THOM SOLO
Going back to the Vetements runway, you said that you felt already at home in your essay for Elle. Are you at home in your body anywhere you go?
I think being a former refugee, you kind of have to find homes then and there. Wherever feels safe, where there's a roof over your head, that's home. I’m a girl growing up on an island in Australia, in a different society. My grandparents in my mom's home, my step dad's house — I was always moving. So, now that I have my own place and I make my own decisions, the adult autonomy has finally entered the chat. I think it's really in my body, and it's really in where my mind is at and what kind of morning I've had, is what I would say. There are some days where I am just moving for the plot. That's what I'm doing right now, and that's just it. I think it's important to give myself permission, some days, to not have an agenda of where home is right now. You know, sometimes you’re just here to have fun or here for vacation. I kind of detach a little bit, is what I would say, too. I'm always moving. I can't get attached to every hotel room, I can't get attached to every flight seat or airline seat or whatever. So I think it's really the body, I think the way I carry my body, the way I'm moving, the way I speak and the way I carry my tone, I think that's where home is.
Beautiful. So, when you moved to Australia, did you struggle with assimilation?
I think moving to Australia, literally, the moment the plane landed, I was like, “Oh, this is consciousness. I'm here, okay.” We landed in the middle of April. So it was basically summer in Australia. I went into autopilot. I'm learning the language, learning the culture. It was a culture shock and that was just two years of just mindlessness, trying to survive, a mode of fitting in, or getting settled. After that, it was okay. This is home now. It took me a while to call it home. It definitely took a few years to feel safe.
Who’s your favorite upcoming designer at the moment?
Grace Ling. I love her work. She's a sweet, sweet woman, very nice to me, very nice to everyone, and I like the way she moves. She just moves in such light. Like, girl, what's your secret?
Who are some of your favorite models right now?
Anok Yai, of course. Alex Consani, one of my good friends, Awar Odhiang, she's amazing, and she had such a great season. We love, love, love, love, love her.
What advice would you tell your younger self?
Slow down!!! That song by Billy Joel, “Vienna” — play that over and over and over and over and over again for 15 year olds. I was in a rush. And now I’m here and I'm like, “Okay, great! You figured it out, but what was the rush?
Let’s manifest. What does the future hold for you?
I think it holds a lot of peace. I'm trying to get into more philanthropy now. So, I’m working on that behind-the-scenes. Hopefully an acting debut is in the skyline, shortly. And to continue on slaying the girls, and the boys, and the gays.
I like the way that you're so knowledgeable about the fashion that goes on, yes, like within your industry, I feel like sometimes models are just models and they're not really into fashion. They're doing what pays the bills, but I enjoy how you know the names of designers, photographers, stylists.
I think it's important. I think it's important once you're out, you know, what did you get, besides the covers and the campaigns? Did you get the names of the stylists and photographers? Has anyone passed away during your career? Is anyone you wish you had met during your career? That’s important to think about.
What advice would you give to anybody who is interested in becoming a model in today's age?
Do your homework. Find your niche, study what you want to actually do when coming in. You're going to get a lot of “no’s”, but the world is not going to end on a “no.” I feel like a lot of aspiring models, or want-to-be models get really taken aback when they get their first or second or third “no,” and it discourages them. Entertainment is like any industry, you're going to get “no” from your bosses. You're gonna get “no” from your dream. It happens. So, if you really want to do it, you’re going to need to keep pushing to do the work, because there is work. Being a model is not easy. There is work! Oh, and get your passports, because you do need your passport. I promise you. And enjoy the ride. I think where I'm at right now in my career, I'm really enjoying the ride. I get to aspire for more.
LEFT: AWENG wears GOWN by C-PLUS SERIES, SHOES by THOM SOLO RIGHT: AWENG wears FULL LOOK by MIISTA,
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To Flog Gnaw, Love Converse
Friday, 6am: At the airport I get some looks. Maybe it’s because I have the baggiest jeans in Ohio. Maybe it’s because my new GOLF le FLEUR x Converse Darryl Chuck 70s make me the coolest chick in the Midwest. The shoes remind me of the first pair of Converse I ever owned (also a pair of red Chucks). I remember wearing those and dreaming of getting out of Ohio to be with kindred spirits (other tumblr users). I watch Challengers on the flight to LA. That scene comes on while I’m served breakfast and all I can do is shoot an apologetic look at the flight attendant.
10am. I’ve touched down in LA. It's baggy jeans central. I ask my driver how he’s doing. “Not in jail, not in war. You tell me how I’m doing.” Touché. It’s a sweet full-circle moment that Converse takes me to LA for the first time. I think my middle school self would be proud of me. I also think she’d want me to take a picture of my Chucks with the Rio De Janero Instagram filter. She’d be happy to know we’re still listening to Blood Orange and The Marías.
6pm. Reunited with the Converse team, we reminisce about our Chuck Taylor memories — Warped Tour (or not being allowed to go to Warped Tour). Wanting the knee high Converse in 2014 (and wanting them again when they were re-released this summer).
Saturday, 3pm. On the way to Dodger Stadium, we drive past the Chromakopia billboards. It’s been a big year for the color green. I’m seeing a lot of fun takes on Tyler’s Chromakopia suit / mask getup. Flog is as much fashion show as it is music festival and block party. "Flog is just a big fit off." It's Chuck-chella. Every fur hat on the West Coast is here. I can joke about the Flog uniform, but there was also an unspoken understanding — pay homage, but don't be a copy. We speculate potential secret performances. “Imagine SZA comes out,” I joke.
4pm. Doechii brings out SZA. I’m too excited to feel smug. She’s so chic in her Miu Miu booty shorts. Her heel breaks but she has DJ Miss Milan fix them while she sings. “Flog Gnaw, y’all kinda freaky.” she tells us. “Put a finger down if you’ve been in love,” she starts. Fingers down all throughout the crowd. “Now put a finger down if you fell in love with a guy who turned out to be DL and then he broke into your house.” Damn. She won that one.
5pm. Omar Apollo talks to the crowd: “I know there’s hella Mexicans out here.” Cheers all around. “Hold on, where my gay people at?” Earth-shattering screams. I strike up a conversation with a girl next to me in full GOLF flame print (with matching Converse). We share memories of our first pair of Converse signaling our entry into true middle school emo. I ask her the craziest thing she’s seen at Flog. “The Teletubbies,” she tells me before running off. I won’t know what she’s talking about until later.
6pm. The moon is low and the ferris wheel is green. In between beat drops, Kaytranada adlibs, rapidly calling for medics. Someone I used to watch on TV asks me about the bathroom line.
8pm. These boys behind me talk about Daniel Caesar, saying, “He’s rizzing.” They speak too earnestly for me to think they're being ironic. Daniel continues to signal for medics, gently chastising the crowd. “Y’all are dropping like flies,” he teases. “That was hella nonchalant,” says one of the boys. I notice their Chucks. We have something in common, even if I can’t understand a word they’re saying.
A plane flies overhead carrying a banner that reads "The world is small. Los Angeles is smaller." Later, I find out that someone got engaged on the ferris wheel. Flog Gnaw is for lovers.
10pm. Fans are walking around with Tyler dolls (dressed in their own mini Converse), despite the 2015 interview where he rebuked any possibilities of a doll in his likeness. Whatever. It's Tyler time. He conducts us as the entire stadium sings to St. Chroma. After his dramatic opening, he goes into his usual riffs. “Hi mom!” he says. This is his victory lap. And well-deserved. Chromakopia has been at #1 for three weeks now. “To do that and my tenth carnival in my fuckin city, that’s what I’m talking about. I don’t even have a heartfelt message…All this shit really be straight from my notebook, man. It’s fucking crazy.”
I accidentally hit a woman with my camera. I apologize profusely but she’s unfazed. “My head is like a helmet!” she says. She introduces me to her 12-year-old son — it’s his first concert. She’s not missing a beat on any of T’s songs. The kid seems excited to see his mom curse.
Tyler takes a puff from his inhaler. He brings out Daniel Caesar for a song. “I love you,” he says. “Lick my neck.” He twerks with Sexxy Red. Someone behind me speculates that he was practicing in the mirror. Sexxy jokes that Tyler wrote Sticky about her. T gives a look to the audience — half shocked, and then giggles and shrugs in concession. The stadium shakes when he plays Tamale. Doechii comes onstage for Balloon. I will not apologize for the person I become during her verse. Tyler leaves us with one request. “Get home safe and keep dreaming.”
Sunday, 2pm. I talk to someone in a decora get-up and ask her about her first Converse memory. “My mom got me my first pair,” she reminisces. “The OG black Chuck Taylors.” I ask her the craziest thing she’s seen at Flog — “The guy in the Sasquatch costume,” she says. Again, it’ll be a few hours until I know what she’s talking about.
Backstage I pass Hana Vu, who I’d seen in 2018 as an opener at my old haunt, a definitely-not-up-to-code venue in Cleveland. I later looked at the pictures I took from the show — I was wearing black Chucks. Some things never change.
3pm. I chat with some more people about their Converse. “I have a pair for partying and a pair for class,” they tell me. My shoes still look close to brand new, but Carti is tonight, so we’ll see how long that lasts. I see some people on a ride that would definitely make me lose my brunch. I can tell from the undersides of their dangling feet that they have Chucks on.
4pm. In line for a ride, we fawn over this girl's Converse — she has flowers on the rivets! She proudly announces she was one of the people who passed out during the Daniel Caesar set. Our faces must give away how concerned we are, but she assures us she's fine now. The experience ages me.
I find Sasquatch. I also find someone dressed as Tron Cat. The two will later duke it out in the pit.
5pm. I pass a shirt that says, “I miss when OF stood for Odd Future.” People are moshing to André 3000’s flute until they decide that it would be more fitting to sit on the ground and pretend to row. Numerous Chucks are spotted in this formation.
6pm. I come across a guy dressed up as MF DOOM. We both chat and bond over having gotten our first pair of Converse as 5th grade birthday presents. “I wore mine til they were cracking all up the side,” he tells me. I ask him the craziest thing he’s seen at Flog. “Probably Sexxy Red slapping Tyler’s ass.” I make it to Sexxy’s set in time to see her shaking ass on the big screen, as well as people on the ground shaking ass alongside her. The people’s princess.
7pm. Everyone is running to The Marías. “Sing with me if you want your ex back,” says María Zardoya. I don’t want my ex back, but I do love the band. She waltzes between the crowd until someone almost pulls her into the pit — security freaks out for a second but all is well. She gives the mic to the crowd for Cariño and an unseen man sings what could be a screamo version of the song. Rock on.
I chat it up with another furry, who remembers wearing their high top Converse to their first middle school softball game. I ask the craziest thing they’ve seen at Flog and get an answer I should’ve expected from a furry — “Everything here just kinda levels out. Everything is equally crazy.” I find the Teletubbies, who’ve since become festival celebrities.
8pm. We’re torn between going to Mustard or Blood Orange. Good problems. People are running to Blood Orange while singing along to Rack City. Mustard brings out Roddy Ricch, Shoreline Mafia, Tyga, Ty Dolla $ign, Big Sean, and YG. “This is so college.” He fakes out the crowd and skips Drake’s verse with a triumphant, “Sike!” Someone steals one of the giant wooden flames hanging from the carnival entry. Later, I see that someone else stole the giant bees off the GNAW sign. Respect.
9pm. We make it to Blood Orange. It’s been a big day for middle school me. I remember being 14 and sitting in my bedroom, reblogging pictures of palm trees silhouetted against a California sunset. There was a life I aspired to that I seem to be living now. Dev Hynes brings out Brendan Yates of Turnstile and they cover Love Will Tear Us Apart. They close with Champagne Coast. A few people are crying. A few people are holding each other. A shooting star appears over FM MOOD’s MF DOOM tribute set. Magic.
10pm. We're live from the Carti pit. The monitors read “Please take a few steps back.” I may be in danger. I can’t see a thing because I’m a whole head shorter than everyone here. Carti brings out The Weeknd but I can only hear him. I’m too busy trying not to get trampled by eighteen-year-old boys. I help someone dressed in full IGOR garb to their feet — his blonde bowlcut wig stays on the entire time. Someone rips their sweat-soaked shirt off and swings it around, baptizing everyone in a 10-foot radius. Carti doesn’t play FEIN. The shirtless dude scolds the crowd, yelling — “If you guys don’t open up this pit, you’re all losers!” The lights come on and he's (satisfyingly) embarrassed.
We make it back to the rest of the group who watched Carti safely from the back. “Izzy, no offense, but you look like you’ve been through war.” I may as well. A mosh pit is best judged by its aftermath. Loose batteries, a trampled keffiyeh, and socks (?) litter the ground. We found loose bra padding and I can only imagine what had to happen for those to be abandoned. A few spare shoes were found — none of them matching, and none of them Converse (10/10 for durability). All of our Chucks, now very broken in, stay attached to our feet. We kept it fun. We kept it freaky. We kept our shoes. What more could I ask for.
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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.
