“Shadowland” by choreographer Kari Hoaas at La MaMa. Light sculpture by Gard Gitlestad. Photo by Jonathan Slaff.

Vastness. Immensity. The Ellen Stewart Theater.

I do not know if it is possible not to feel the weight of such vast emptiness. Unintelligible figures of flesh and slate enter this space with rounded edges, clenched fists, pleading, no, compressed. The light installation resembles a trend line, an exponential curve trending up — increase.

At once, moving quadrupedally, a wild, primitive language rules their bodies — dragging themselves, they make themselves to each other. They meet, and their physical dissonance is amplified like the fluttering of birds settling. Rolling, pressing, kneading, an agreed-upon language becomes decipherable.

“Shadowland” by choreographer Kari Hoaas at La MaMa. Matias Rønningen, Christine Kjellberg and light sculpture by Gard Gitlestad. Photo by Jonathan Slaff.

“Shadowland” by choreographer Kari Hoaas at La MaMa. Foreground: Ida Haugen. Photo by Jonathan Slaff.

The movement intrinsic to the light installation is transmuted to their bodies. Their intersecting pathways halt, store, and release their flow.

Confluence.
Storage.
Breach.
Confluence.
Storage.
Breach.
Breach. Brea…

Confluence. Conflu…
Storage.
Breach.
Breach. Confluence.

Matias Rønningen in “Shadowland.” Screenshot from video.

“Shadowland” by choreographer Kari Hoaas at La MaMa. L-R Christine Kjellberg, Ida Haugen and Matias Rønningen. Light sculpture by Gard Gitlestad. Photo by Jonathan Slaff.

This energy changes once more into a revolving. They harness the sacred curve as they transcendentally whirl, their garments catching the breeze of those stardust winds.

We are left soothed.