photography by Jori Ketten
The shadow is a sign. In this performance of divination, tea leaves are read, hairs burned. Every gesture is portentous, a possible fortelling. Movements unfold slowly, projected as specters behind the soothsayer. Her voice echoes, without her lips moving. She recites some sort of recipe for prediction atop a landscape of driving sound. All who bear witness are drawn into the act of prognostication. The diviner is at once fragile and fierce, and by the end of Bleigiessen her power becomes evident as molten metal hits cold water and transfigures into the future.