MindHyper / No-Mirror unfolds like an apparition that never settles into a single meaning. A figure emerges without announcement, without orientation, as if walking in from a fault in the room’s timeline. Latex clings to the body in a brown pied-de-poule pattern, turning the performer into both glitch and ornament, a hyper-attuned sensor rather than a protagonist. The audience does not know where to look. Presence arrives before narrative.

Two stained-glass sculptures wait in the space like dormant transmitters. Approaching them activates the first sound piece, a pulse vibrating through the public zone and placing the room in a state of mild alert. The performer lifts one stained glass object, carries it toward a small glass room, switches on a lone light, places a concealed speaker inside and shuts the door. A chamber is activated. A frequency is assigned.

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Then a second stained-glass object is carried into the main cabinet. Another light. Another sound. The space becomes stratified, three sound pieces in superposition, three temporalities overlapping without hierarchy. The volumes bleed but never merge. The audience is forced into non-linear listening, their attention pulled in contradictory directions, with no anticipation available and no narrative to hold onto, only signal.

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Inside the frosted glass cabinet, the performer begins to move. A dance that is neither dance nor gesture, but a somatic computation, a way of thinking with the body rather than about it. Through the blurred translucency, the audience sees only silhouettes and distortions, a phantom bending light. The cabinet becomes a camera obscura of the nervous system, a place where the body becomes image without ever stabilising into representation.

The performance is anchored in the artist’s ongoing research on dopamine, attention and the politics of the spike. To dance here is not to display virtuosity but to surrender to rhythms that escape the economy of reward. The body resists choreographic clarity and instead follows arrhythmia, interruption and micro-release. Clarity dissolves into pulsation. The cabinet becomes a chamber of deregulated perception where hypersensitivity, hypervigilance and oscillating focus become method, score and signal.

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As the dance closes, the performer turns off one room, then the other. Lights fade. Frequencies shut down. The soundscape collapses. Only breath remains, a field of respiration that briefly holds the space in suspension. The performer then returns to the initial site of entry and plays a final sound from a phone, a fragment from the last recording of the Mineshaft in New York in 1985. A romantic and spectral residue unfolds through the dark, linking the performance to another history of bodies gathered in secrecy and intensity.

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At this point the work contracts into its most minimal form. Sound, light and architecture withdraw, leaving only the afterimage of movement and the faint echo of the archive. The performance becomes a study in how a system shuts itself down, how an energetic field dissolves, how perception endures after form has disappeared.

MindHyper / No-Mirror emerges as game of embodied signals that plays the players. Each object, sound, light and movement acts as a bead within a larger constellation of correspondences. The work becomes part ritual, part nervous-system diagram and part encrypted transmission, a structure in which the body functions as interface, conduit and interpreter.