Like the shadow, I am and I am not

A review of the captivating but dubious collaboration at Skånes Dansteater between dance and beatboxing, by choreographer Ina Christel Johannessen.

Photo: Yaniv Cohen

On Friday, October 10th 2025, was the premiere of Like the Shadow, I am and I am not, a performance that supposedly explores the shadows that live within and around us. Ina Christel Johannessen is an acclaimed and talented Norwegian choreographer who has not only founded her own dance company, “Zero Visibility Corp”, but has created work for dance companies around the world.

Johannessen’s newest performance Like the Shadow, I am and I am not seems ambitious in its endeavors yet mysteriously nondescript. Characterized online as a performance about the contradictions of life and examining our existence, the night’s program recited shadows as the thematic exploration (but what exactly about shadows, I’m not entirely sure). The ambiguity in the performance’s purpose in any case seemed intentional, but whether that proved interesting or meaningful is up for debate.

The piece starts with a beatboxer, Mattias Ümit Yilbar Norgren, creating a quiet ambient wind as your eyes explore the scenography that fills the space. The floor is covered by a purple carpet, and downstage right towers a dynamic wooden structure, defined by various vertical walls that conjoin a base and low ceiling. As a dim light inside the structure highlights a single dancer, 8 dancers and the beatboxer are seen sprawled throughout the surrounding space. Complimenting the vivid purple carpet, the dancers are dressed in simple yet interesting green and purple outfits, with varying mixtures of materials and textures.

The single dancer’s movement flowed between lightness and sharp rebounds and in conversation with the dancer, Norgren provided a growing score of beatboxing. It quickly became evident that the piece thrives with the inclusion of Norgren and his undeniable beatboxing talent. For nearly the entire 75 minutes of the performance, he provides a range of sounds and music, often simultaneously producing two distinct tunes of percussion. Audience members were evidently satisfied and moved by his music, with bobbing heads continuously witnessed throughout the piece.

Norgren’s range was not only immensely impressive, but his stamina and memory as well. And the presence of a moving and responsive instrument on stage provided an energetic experience, where the music felt alive and both informing and in response to the movement of the dancers. It was refreshing that he was so involved in the space and with the dancers.

Photo: Yaniv Cohen

But his star quality (ironically) casted a shadow on the cast of dancers, and rather than protagonists, they became secondary characters in their own stories. I often found myself captivated by Norgren’s performance and skills, accidentally forgetting the surrounding dancers.

In line with the incertitude of the performance themes, the movement quality felt generally vague. The flows of movement, with staccato hits and quick extensions, was interesting the first five minutes, but it’s invariability throughout the entire performance made it feel uninformed. I constantly questioned where the movement was going and what it was building up to, but the redundant movement quality and vocabulary left my questions unanswered. The presence behind the dancers also brushed too wide of a stroke, where they ranged from indifference, (random?) silliness, and tacky theatrical acting. I found the dramatic deep audible breaths and repeated puzzled stare into the audience too on the nose and particularly unappetizing.

That isn’t to say the dancing was completely uninteresting, there were various moments where movement proved powerful. The piece was diverse in its composition of movement, with groups, solos, duets, etc. found throughout. Synchronized group movement was very effective, especially using the walls of the wooden structures, with its infrequency leaving me craving more. Duets, especially the last one, were compelling and impressive feats of strength, balance and flexibility. Interactions and movement between dancers focused heavily on the touch, which allowed for emotional yet dynamic images of blending bodies and limbs. Stories did seem to be built in between the contact of dancers, and I vividly remember a trio of dancers constantly throwing themselves around trying to catch a single dancer continuously falling off balance whilst on relevé. But what felt overwhelmingly dominant and recurring were asynchronous group phrases, which read as chaotic and messy individual improvisations that quickly became stale and excessive.

I’m still thinking about this fire quartet... Photo: Yaniv Cohen

The wooden structure, cleverly made up of 4 slices that were taken apart and constantly rearranged by dancers in the space, was especially engaging. The scenography felt active, and constantly gave life to new compositions and configurations of space. Tragically, the lighting did the stage no justice, with the constant use of an exposing and unflattering bright white light. It reminds me of that overhead light in the hallway you never turn on because it’s always overly harsh, artificial and simply wrong (full body chills thinking about it). Thankfully, traveling yellowlights, often synced with the beatboxing, provided me relief and pulled me back into the performance. Towards the end of the piece, a single spotlight was used by a dancer to project shadows on background structures and walls. Why the exploration of literal shadows was not more present throughout beats me. But this question fits nicely into my main qualm of the piece: I couldn’t tell you what the piece was trying to say.

The night’s program asked that we just “sit down and take in what’s happening on stage”. Johannessen states, “I want to give an image, a suggestion and then you add your own story”.

I could try and sell you the idea that the piece was about a struggle of an individual versus a group, or the internal fights we find within ourselves, but I don’t even buy that myself. The audience is always going to construct their own story regardless of how much you feed them, and in this case abstract descriptions, images and suggestions created nothing more than insignificance. Art doesn’t always have to have a meaning but if that’s the case, it feels disappointing and like wasted potential when behind the final art piece lies tremendous resources, time and an incredibly talented team (everyone from the dancers to the technicians making the performance possible).

With such a powerful platform like Skånes Dansteater, it feels like a cop out for the audience to bear the responsibility of finding all the significance in the work. By offloading onto others and not providing at least some details in what you want to say, it feels almost as if you are saying nothing at all.

The piece ends with the dancers and beatboxers disappearing into the structure. The ending, much like the rest of the piece, leaves me questioning if there is something truly worthwhile within it.

Unfortunately Like the Shadow, I am and I am not and stories within suffered from their own lack of clarity. I would have been curious to see more literal and obvious explorations of shadows, whether through lighting or movement exploration (if relevant to the piece’s themes that is, which I assume based on the title…). The piece would have greatly benefited from more direction, especially in its movement vocabulary and purpose. It’s possible to be explanative without being overly confessional, because otherwise the resulting indecisiveness comes off as simply trivial. The piece is and also isn’t… what does that actually say?

Photo: Yaniv Cohen