Boukje Schweigman is an artist this country desperately needs. My deep admiration for her arose with 'Klep', the performance with which she graduated from the Amsterdam mime school long ago. With eight others in a cart, looking around through very small flaps in a world where sweet creatures are equally curious about you, after which a minimal touch takes on the impact of a grand final chord.
After that, it only got better and her work alternates between purely visual and cheerfully theatrical. Especially the latter often centres on human proximity, so it is a pleasant coincidence that a visual project was just scheduled for this year. After all, touching is a bit tricky to combine with social distancing.
Take off
Spectrum is the name of the work now on Sender Boulevard, and it is another miracle. Rising coronaproof from the earth with a small group of people, losing your weight and becoming deliciously heavy at the same time, while floating towards a tunnel of light, in which a giant heart valve slowly spins. For some, one of the better near-death experiences, for others the perfect way to get rid of your sleep problems, and for me, something of both: total relaxation and an opportunity to release the mind, interspersed with the occasional snore.
There are performances where you don't mind dozing off, and Boukje Schweigman makes one where it is even desirable. Once outside, in the deserted car park of the Brabanthallen, the raw, and in this case also scorching hot reality hits you again: we live in strange times. On little chairs, one and a half metres apart, we try to fathom it again.
Circus romance
Those who also experience these strange times first-hand are the people of the world-famous Flemish Circus Ronaldo (since 1831). They gross out in Fellini-like circus romance, with all the dinginess and nostalgia that entails, and this year that reaches a peak. For the performance cannot go on. So you are invited by family members to go behind the scenes to watch the performers endure their lockdown.
It is not a cheerful show, because small-scale circus and corona do not mix for a while. The small, beautiful tent is with no way to adapt to the new normal so the dilapidated caravans stand a bit forlorn, baking in the sun on a little park south of St John's. The depression is palpable, right to the end, when the hope of a new future might send you home feeling good.
Not cheerful family theatre, then, but beautiful to experience, and brought with great warmth. These are the moments when you miss the beating festival heart, 200 metres away on De Parade. A moment to drown the worries in something cool, a look of understanding at others who have been through it, that's what you crave. Just hang in there, all of you. The Ronaldos, too, are going to find a solution.
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