Soliloquy portrays the nightmarish scenario of perpetual self-reference as a dehumanising vision of echo chambers and feedback loops. This is a world of broken communication. The end of discourse. We no longer listen to each other. We no longer see each other.

The two human-shaped objects, known as O and Q, only see and hear themselves. There is no presence of the other. For them to see each other is an impossibility. Their eyes are fixed on the camera that displays their self-image. They are only staring at themselves.

O and Q become disorientated. Their senses cut off from the outside world. Vision becomes rapidly blurred, unable to focus on the peripheral environment. Hearing is directed towards the timing and articulation of their successive announcements. Mouths become dry. They are adrift from the lifeworld.

The boundaries are enforced on their own self-identities. Identity becomes a fortress that repels otherness. The only option they have is to fully coincide with their own identities. Atomised and narcissistic. It is not possible for them to escape this hell of the same.

If O and Q were able to break through their protective shields, they would realise that they are not so different after all. There is common ground. Some of their utterances even coincide in unison.

Soliloquy presents us with instantaneous walls of sound. Each delivery saturates the pitch space which is divided into 53-tone just intonation. The soundtrack incorporates both the diapason (musical glasses) and the anemoi (organ pipes).

Free event in the foyer of RHB by the Great Hall.