Michael Turinsky comes out on stage in his wheelchair pushing a hostess trolley with a pot plant and some fancy tonic water on it. He drops some niche names in philosophy, and tells us we almost got a lecture on communism, but he changed his mind. It’s the start of an unpredictable, uncategorisable performance from Vienna-based artist-philosopher Turinsky, part of the Unlimited festival of disabled artists.
Instead of communism, Turinsky has decided to muse on disability and choreography; mobility and mobilisation; gesture and environment. Addressing the audience directly, he’s mild mannered, smiling his words in a winsome tone that suggests an appreciation of the absurd and self-deprecating humour – when he talks about identifying as “crip”, a reclaiming of the word that’s seen as an act of resistance, Turinsky admits the kind of resistance he’s most interested in is resisting getting out of bed before 11am.
As the 70-minute show progresses, it expands away from bookish intellect to the body. First by circumventing the body’s limitations of mobility (I won’t spoil how because there’s an excellent reveal), and then presenting the body as is, in minimal but mesmerising movement. Where this show works best is when words and actions start to underline each other. For Turinsky, choreography is less about making dances, more a system of organisation, he tells us. Meanwhile, he’s putting together a wooden train set. His physical disability means it’s slow going, getting hold of pieces, fitting them together. Perhaps as a viewer you might be thinking about doing it faster. Later, seemingly unrelated, he questions the fetishisation of speed. Says it leads to social stagnation. And he might have a point. Why is faster better? All these systems, of thought and politics, and of ableist society, they didn’t spring from nowhere. They’ve been organised, choreographed, and we’re all too busy being busy to question them. I think that’s the idea anyway.
Precarious Moves is gentle but surprising, quietly thought-provoking if a little unfinished (or not punchy enough) in its thesis. One of the best unexpected moments is a musical break, Turinsky singing over melancholic electronics, his wavering voice sounding vocoder-ish. Suddenly in this move away from the living room lecture he finds something altogether cooler, stranger, rawer and more intriguing.
