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“Creepy Boys” is the latest offering from Canadian queer theatre company Scantily Glad Theatre. The website tells us: “Frustrated with the limited possibilities for queer and transgender folks within the rigid gender binaries of existing theatre landscapes, we create new work. Through self-creation, we can tell stories overlooked by Canadian theatre and create empowering queer theatre on our own terms. We aim to present intellectual and political ideas to an audience from a loving, empowering and, often silly place. We believe laughter is the best way to educate and create change.” “Creepy Boys” invites us to a surprise thirteenth birthday party for identical twin boys - a perverted, horny, and simply hilarious affair. On arrival the audience is instantly swept up in a cavalcade of party games, sing-alongs to half-remembered angsty 2000s hits, and stories from their colourful lives. A notable party-pooper, and omnipotent voice from above, is “Sharon”, the babysitter who occasionally intervenes to stop them having too much fun. This is their twisted fantasy and today is the day they finally get everything they've ever wanted. Real-life lovers turned identical twin boys; “Creepy Boys” is a bizarre comedy horror mashup with just a splash of the occult. The website tells us the show was created while trapped in Australia by artists Sam Kruger and Grumms. Its queer themes are dramatised through the inability for these boys to work out who they are in their pubescent state. An audience member will bare a bottom. Willem Defoe turns up, Satan is conjured; parents are absent. We play truth or dare. There is balloons, streamers, and dancing to a sexy song. Kids amusing themselves or filling a void? Loneliness and discontent beckon. It is a really hard show to describe but it’s kind of about generational existential malaise. It’s a very funny show no matter how you read it. The performers are endlessly inventive and full of beans. Further research reveals that “Creepy Boys” is created through the virtues of Canadian Pochinko clowning, which merges the pedagogy of French clown teacher Jacques Lecoq and Canadian First Nations performance practice. These two traditions came together to form the Pochinko technique. At the core of this approach is the idea that if we can face all the directions of ourselves, North, South, East, West, Up, Down, we can only laugh – at the beauty and wonder that is in us. Well, whichever way these Creepy Boys are facing is bloody thought provoking, funny and not easily forgotten. Kate Gaul

Haddangse Korea Theatre Company return to Edinburgh with this gem of a production “At that Time, Byeon” Japanese colonial rule (1910-1945) was a traumatic experience for Koreans. For the first ten years Japan ruled directly through the military, and any Korean dissent was ruthlessly crushed. During that time a maid – Byeon, also known as Maria – was murdered and her killer was never bought to justice. Haddangse have created an inventive Chaplinesque black comedy that tells the story of Maria’s death. This is a story of unbridled passions, secret affairs, and Korean pop culture. The entire show is made in front of our eyes as if it is a silent film – complete with monochromatic projection and offstage foley. The sound effects are beyond charming and belie rigorous theatre making techniques and vital imaginations. Everything from tiny footsteps moving down a corridor to the filmic SFX of hand-to-hand combat are covered and much more. The sight of an actor belting a vegetable to get the appropriate sound is both entertaining and awe inspiring. Projection of light from a video projector on the floor is supported by the company who also use handheld lights to create atmospheric scenes that reflect the golden age of Korean gangsters. Backed by a roll of paper the company use this to great effect not just as a projection surface but one that can be ultimately broken through. This is an economic production where every element is used and reused to maximum effect. The entire company is impressive. No more so than Chaeyeon Kim who plays heroine Maria. She has enormous charisma and works with absolute precision. She breaks our hearts as her hours become numbered in the corrupt household where she is maid. Seungtae Kim plays a salesman, and he is also a kind of ring master who drives the story. Sura Choi plays Madam whose illicit affair with the President of the Railway Company – played by an appropriately slimy Kwangseon Park – sets the tragedy in motion. Of course, there is the (in) competent detective played with authority by Jane Kwon and Yejin Kim is hilarious as the witness. There are so many great aspects of this production – I have mentioned the live sound effects and most of the text is lip synched by the onstage actors and spoken but those at the Foley tables either side of the stage. The physicality of the performances is virtuosic at times and quite different from the more familiar European practices. We learn a little of Korea’s history too. One of the joys of attending Edinburgh Fringe is finding these unique international works. “At that Time, Byeon” is great fun. Recommended! Kate Gaul

Polko Roundabout at Summerhall – Edinburgh Fringe 2023 RJG productions present UK writer Angus Harrison’s “Polko” at the theatre-in-the-round space, Roundabout at Edinburgh Fringe. This is a play for three actors. Peter, an older gent played by John Macneil, has made let some terrible judgements cloud his interpersonal interactions in his quest for love. Emma, played by Rosie Dwyer, has just lost her job, and returned to her mum and dad’s house. Jo, played by Elliot Norman, is our protagonist and it’s in his car that the action of the play takes place. Emma and Jo are old school friends. In that way that old school friends reconnect this is a painful, playful, and perverse. It is set in the present. Jo has a dead-end job, lives with his parents out of necessity and no real ambition. Peter has made a disastrous proposal to Jo’s mother attempt and has made some terrible choices on the internet. Emma is suffering with undiagnosed health issues. There’s a guy called Polko who has disappeared. He’s been a mate of Jo’s and every time he is mentioned Jo is evasive. The brief, punchy scenes are broken by abrasive scratchy static as if amplified from the car radio. The scratchy static suggests there is a secret or something that Jo isn’t owning up to. The performances are terrific, and this is a play of great two-character scenes. Angus Harrison writes in the first scene that “the play is, among other things, about boredom. Boredom should live inside it. It should feel like nothing is going to happen, so intensely that the world would crack open any minute through the sheer force of listlessness.” I guess all of that is true. But what struck me was that this is a play about legacy. Jo and Emma grapple with tenuous futures. They return to their childhood homes because the promise of anything approaching a career or stability is undetermined. Life is lived in short grabs. Everything is temporary. Jo even prefers his car as a dwelling, on occasion. Peter – from a different generation – is adrift in a world he cannot understand. Where any provision he has made has been rudely stripped from him and now he – with his mother’s engagement ring in his pocket – grabs at any suitable lifeline. Tragic stuff. It occurred to me that this subject matter and plays like this will mark this period of our time. Hourglass and gig economies, precarious futures, poverty, loneliness, addiction. Unless radical policies are implemented by future governments, the danger is that the boredom Harrison refers to could be a dark harbinger of worse to come. Kate Gaul

Fairly Lucid Productions presents Ben Noble in this searing drama, “Member”. This solo performance, accompanied by live cello (Simone Seales) tells the fictionalised tale of Corey - a man who, as a child, was forced to participate in horrific hate crimes against gay men in 70s Sydney, Australia. Burying the past, he grows up to lead as normal a life as he can, until his son winds up in hospital. Based on the gay hate crimes that occurred on Sydney’s beaches between the 1970’s and 90’s, resulting in as many as 80 murders and 30 unsolved cases to this day, we are presented with a gruesome Australian history lesson. Fairly Lucid Productions is an Australian independent theatre company with giant ideas that invites their audiences to observe, think, discuss. They aim to push boundaries with their performances, presenting work that is courageous, compassionate and embraces humility, with a strong focus on new work. “Member” has had critically successful seasons all around Australia. If you love serious drama and great performance, sthen add “Member” to your calendar! The simple design with 2 institutional looking chairs, a couple of hospital screens are enough to keep the present of the play in our minds. The musician sits on an elevated platform. Ben Noble imaginatively transforms the tiny performance space the production occupies into hospital, beachside, neighbours’ houses, behind a couch – with ease. The play itself is multi authored by Noble with additional words from Ro Bright, Meg Courtney, Björn Deigner, Dan Giovannoni, Elise Esther Hearst, and Finegan Kruckemeyer. It never feels disjointed. In fact, its flow is why it is easy to follow the jumps in times and locations as Corey’s story unravels. All elegantly directed by David Wood and supported by Simoine Seales on cello, the addition of the live music is a superb counterpoint to the text and helps colour locations as themes return. This is tough material to revisit every day and is testimony to Ben Noble’s commitment to shine a light into the dark recesses of Australian gay history. Sadly, these stories are way too frequent worldwide. Bravo to Ben and his team! Take some tissues and be carried back in time. The play delivers a dark twist I didn’t see coming and that’s great writing and performing! Kate Gaul

We’re in the Women’s Locker Room at Summerhall. The room is tiny. A random assortment of chairs for the audience are assembled. We face towards a collection of instruments, technology, and what looks like a huge doll’s house. Once the house is revealed to us piece by piece it is packed with minute detail of rooms with lit by tiny lights. Sometimes the surface is used to carry projections of the universe or old family film. Each of these moments is filled full by heart stopping story and resonance. This is a play about memory. A man – we later learn his name is Jack Brett – sits behind the instruments in a corner. He’s the onstage musician. He plays a guitar, keyboard and fires all kinds of sound, and sings. It’s all in step with the gentle story telling taking place and he shares the musical load with the primary storyteller. This is writer, designer and first-rate storyteller Casey Jay Andrews. She has ushered us in. She will tell us a story. The story is one of wonder and awe. It is nostalgic in the best sense of the word as the protagonist, Frankie, returns to her family home and her grandfather, his dog, and an unfolding set of secrets. Some of which are as mysterious as the origins of a falling star. This play is a fable. There is quite a bit of astrophysics in the text. It turns out the speaker’s sister is in that field but that’s not really part of the story. We learn about the origins in meteor showers, what it’s worth if you can find a space rock that has fallen to earth intact and sell it to scientists. Scientists estimate that about 48.5 tons of meteoritic material falls on the Earth each day. Almost all the material is vaporised in Earth's atmosphere, leaving a bright trail fondly called "shooting stars." Several meteors per hour can usually be seen on any given night. The characters in this story each the sky at night. We are completely transported by the poetic words and worlds that whirl around this tiny room to create a much larger canvas in our imaginations. This is a story about belonging. It’s also about being alone. But of course, our need to share stories is what brings us back to the theatre again and again. Casey Jay Andrews has a portfolio of incredible talents and achievements in the performing arts but the most precious is her remarkable ability to hold us in her sway using the most ancient of arts: that of the story. I can’t recommend this show enough and I for one will try and return. Kate Gaul

Heaven Traverse Theatre – Edinburgh Fringe 2023 Fishamble’s production of Eugene O’Briens ‘Heaven’ is a quiet and genuine triumph playing at Traverse Theatre for Edinburgh Fringe. ‘Heaven’ is a contemporary Irish play about two fifty somethings who we quickly grow to care for. These characters are far from the fifty something washed-up stereotypes often served up in drama. These are two adults who have shared a life, a child and all that comes with it. But they haven’t ever shared their entire selves. We meet Mairead and husband Mal over a weekend in County Offaly in the Irish midlands attending a family wedding. Mairead is a spirited social worker, mother of the now grown and semi-estranged daughter. She returns to her childhood haunts. She’s keen to see who’s about. Mairead expresses the soulless nature of life and ends up in the local pub and into the arms of her first love. Mal, the husband, a teacher, well he’s had some recent heart surgery and doesn’t drink anymore and is fine staying in the accommodation. He’s usually early to bed but tonight he sits awake and admits to himself that he’s always known he is attracted to men but that “wouldn’t suit the way I wanted to live”. Both characters worry they have led lives of less than full intensity, the sensible decisions of adulthood forcing them, they fear, to deny their true selves. “Heaven” is exquisitely written, funny and bittersweet. The play’s form is the familiar. Two alternating monologues in which each character gives a fuller picture of the other. The cast of characters, locales and feelings are vividly expressed. Mairead’s description of the fallen prosperity of a town is achingly familiar – we don’t have to be Irish to recognise what she’s seeing: “I mean the Dublin roadside, you have the three-headed monster – Tesco, Aldi, and Lidl – but there is some local business too – Tommy’s tyre firm, Moran’s Petrol station, Glennan’s butchers. Then up onto the square. That’s where the rot sets in. Fuck all around it really.” As Mal jolts from his waking dream the text builds to a much-required crescendo, an explosion from decades of repression burst forth. It is hilarious, heart-breaking and feels incredibly truthful. Two very special actors – Janet Moran and Andrew Bennet – deliver skilful performances with clarity and emotion. Like a lot of Irish plays the amount of language is challenging and, in this production, (directed by Jim Culleton) it flows like a babbling brook. The setting (Designer Zia Bergin-Holly) in this production is a kind of amalgam of street corner, inner pub, and neutral playing space. To my taste it might be stronger to find a metaphor to bind these monologues – something more liminal and abstract. The play is direct address, so the question is where exactly are we as the story unfolds? The play ends with delicious ambiguity. I would have liked a moment to savour where we have arrived. The play’s emphasis on identity and the possibility that it is a quest that never ends is powerful. Great writing, brilliant performances – this is a must see! Kate Gaul

Welcome to the (near) future. Enter a world where romance has been “solved” by algorithms and Artificial Intelligence is commonplace. Five overlapping narratives, from space miners to tech moguls, weave together into a show that explores relationships: with technology, with creativity, and with us. Don’t forget capitalist doom and the threat of an artificial future. This is storytelling theatre that’s equal parts funny and moving, featuring a unique performance generated by AI. “Distant Memories of the Near Future” is created and performed by David Head. AI is a buzzword and no doubt we will hear and see much about its use from now on. This is sophisticated story telling with some video projection, and object elements. David Head has imagined a possible future where love has been solved by an algorithm, mandatory adverts are broadcast to citizens, and we harvest soaring asteroids for their minerals and diamonds. So, this is all largely imagined but David Head is so captivating it feels 100% truthful in the sense that this is our world. And let’s face it dating sites do rely on some kind of algorithmic equations to match people. Don’t they? Witty, satirical adverts spoken from disembodied voices pop up in front of us on a screen. One is for Q-PID, the data-driven dating service that scans brains and studies saliva to find compatible people around the globe or - if you are unlucky - mark you as undesirable. We hear how the service came about and the ripples it generated within society. It’s actually quite hilarious and it’s cute that we get time to pause and think about a lonely guy checking into this service and the commodification of his romance. IRL this can have tragic consequences. Can we ever solve the question of love? How do you find love if you are undesirable? This is witty, rigorous work. For all its invention this is a very subtle and tender piece of theatre. David Head is a superb storyteller, with a handsome dose of satire on how large tech companies already mine our data to work out how to sell to us – and the multi uses of advertising!!! Head uses advertising as a story thread and a provocation to our focus… there is so much advertising in our world. Why are we looking at it when we know its nefarious?! The diamond miner in space is a sad story. A static three-dimensional figure under torchlight can manifest deep emotions in an audience who has been gently reminded that human relationships really drive us and matter to us. It’s also powerful to be reminded of the human scale of genuine connection – and “Distant Memories of the Near Future” does that in form and content beautifully, Kate Gaul

Australia’s Melbourne based Throw Catch Collective present their virtuosic juggling show “Escalate” for audiences young and old (although its’ possibly most engaging for 10yrs and above). Performers Byron Hutton, Richard Sullivan, Samuel Kreusler present a tightly formatted presentation where Hutton and Sullivan do most of the throwing and catching and Kreusler accompanies on guitar with original compositions. He’s no slouch though when it comes to joining the occasional juggling routine. Known to me by reputation only (and YouTube) it was a pleasure to encounter the work first hand in Edinburgh. I’m a bit of a juggling fan and one of the glowing stamps of approval for this team is their mentorship by Sean Gandini. Sidebar: if you don’t know the work of the Gandini jugglers please google, watch, and be amazed – but after reading this, please! Hey, but this is our own home-grown Aussie trio and bravo to them for gaining more than a toe hold in a very niche art form. Great that they are getting some exposure in the big tent too! Timing is everything and Throw Catch Collective add percussion to some scenes with the use of body mics which means the work can be intimate, gentle, and really invite an audience in. This was juggling with some orange-sized balls. Other scenes are performed with a series if rings and other with the traditional clubs. I guess you could call this visual and aural choreography. “Escalate:” is best described as energetic, rhythmic, and brimming with concentration. A word on the music – it’s very posh Spanish sounding guitar and I read that Samuel Kreusler has worked in many arts contexts and was commissioned by the University of Melbourne to create an original work to celebrate the re-launch of Southbank campus. This work was showcased at the Accademia Dell’arte in Florence. Nice! The team also use some of Kreusler’s electronica to add to the atmospherics at times. Lighting is everything from glow-in-the-dark to a pleasing wash – it’s the kind of show where the performers actually need to see the apparatus after all. The guys are serious. Rhythmically this show is on a par with “Stomp” and technically the work would be at home in a “Cirque de Soleil” show. But it’s neither of these. I would have loved if - in-between throwing and catching – they could choreograph some eye contact with the audience, a smile, let us hear the count in. We want to connect with these intrepid performers and not just sit back in admiration. The audience is mixed age range and a handful of techniques could bridge that gap and help us recognise the human effort behind the mastery. No-one cares if you drop the ball – this is live theatre and it’s going to happen – but don’t miss the opportunity for loads more fun, and the possibility of enticing younger hearts and minds into the world of “Escalate” Kate Gaul

Baklâ Summerhall Written, Choreographed, and performed by an astonishingly talented Max Percy, “Baklâ” is a gem in the panoply of solo performance at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe. Max Percy opens the show by defining the word Baklâ: Tagalog. Meanings: homosexual, Filipinx LGBTQ+ community, Faggot. He invites us to think of other words – he’s heard them all. Max Percy embraces the identification, simultaneously utilising the term to share their experiences growing up Queer in the Filipino culture and exploring the impact of Spanish and American colonisation on the Philippines and generations of people. It’s a stunning work as it melds the personal, political, historical, and religious into pure theatre. We are thrust back to 1521 – a date marking the arrival of the first European ship to the Philippines. What followed was 300 years of Spanish rule (followed by a period of American rule) and a gradual yet profound cultural genocide of the native people. This show explores how intergenerational trauma takes shape in the modern Filipino. The loss of his ancestor’s homeland sends ripples through time, emitting a cultural amnesia. Is sex the best cure for a headache? The work is staged in front of a giant dance studio mirror with a chair, some basic video elements, music, a microphone, and aerial apparatus. Max Percy’s skills range from being a natural storyteller, gorgeously comedic, a gift for intense naturalism, incredible dance, and aerial work. The physical images he creates are alive when attached to the story of say, colonisation, send reverberations from the past to the present in a way I have never experienced quite like this. Context is everything of course and Max Percy deftly conveys his context in which we are to experience the work. Shout out to director Robbie Taylor Hunt! The narrative shifts from the club scene to direct address to the lower decks of a slave ship. Percy literally flings himself from moment to moment. Lighting and sound support these jolts. Its tight! Exploring his personal sexual journey, addictions, and complex family relationships are all included. There may be poetic license taken but who cares? This is a great, searing story of a personal and political quest for liberation. Favourite moments – a mirror dance where Percy dances with himself in a mesmerising club dance floor seduction; sex in the bathroom; the old man looking for his handkerchief; aerial images which connect the past and present; projected vintage advertisements; Catholics! The rhythmic flow of the production is sometimes abruptly stopped when Percy confronts prejudice (intended or otherwise) that all marginalised people deal with daily. It’s a moment of recognition for the audience – a chance to check our privilege and prejudices. Percy won’t let us off the hook either, charming storyteller though he be! Oh, and I loved the “safety curtain’ moment – meta, clever! You’ll have to see the show to get that reference. It's a knockout and deserves to sell-out. Say you were there! Kate Gaul

Funeral Zoo Venues Ghent’s Ontroerend Goed are always a high-water mark at Edinburgh Fringe, and “Funeral” was the first ticket I organised for this year. At my last Fringe ‘Are we not drawn onward to new erA’ was a no-questions masterpiece. This year, “Funeral” is an incredible act of generosity, ferociously theatrical, unbelievably human in scale and so much more. “Funeral” is an early morning show which begins on the steps of the Zoo venue (one of my top three venues in Edinburgh for stellar programming and hospitality). We are taught a song which - we are told – we will sing at the end of the “show”. To reveal much more of what happens would be to absolutely take away from the unique experience. In the blurb the company tell us there will be greetings, singing, pretending, light, darkness, a celebration and then it will end. There is all that and it is more than the sum of its parts. Everyone is invited to share a cup of tea following what is an emotionally charged event. It’s immersive. It’s gentle. The company take time to take care of each audience member as we embark on a ritual about the end of life. Artistic director Alexander Devriendt has been quoted as saying “theatre reaches very few people. You need to care about how you reach them and what it is about the live experience that requires theatre.” We will die. People get that. What most people don’t get is that the fact that they are going to die is the most important thing that will happen to them. Humans are one of the few creatures that understand death and live their entire lives with the knowledge of their deaths. And so, it’s a conflict within us – we live in these decaying bodies and yet we feel so special and important so how do you reconcile those two things? It’s hard to reconcile them so we must create. We must transcend. We must have religion, communities, art. Those are created by our fear and our strange, difficult, weird relationship with death. Devriendt again, “I want my work to question my own worldview. If art isn’t challenging, why bother?” Ontroerend Goed’s work relies on a careful balance between making the audience uneasy and giving us an easy ride (or maybe even completely alienating some people). That is the beauty of “Funeral”. I was moved. Many people appeared moved but it’s possible that some are being asked to step too far from comfort zones into modes of presentation and subject matter that is too far from the pale. Be adventurous. See this show and I guarantee you will never see confetti the same way again. Kate Gaul

GUSLA Summerhall, Main Hall “Gusla” (meaning witchcraft) is based on the second part and excerpts of the fourth part of Adam Mickiewicz's drama “Dziady” (“Forefathers' Eve”). Mickiewicz is considered the national poet of Poland and lifelong apostle Polish national freedom. Renowned director Grzegorz Bral, founder of Song of the Goat Theatre, has translated the Romantic classic into a gripping deeply emotional theatrical language. A detailed program tells us that growing out of a ritual in honour of the dead, “Gusla” touches not only on mourning and the loss of a loved one, but also on contemporary Poland and its great ideals. This performance is performed in Polish by a company of 9 actors and an onstage musician. It is produced by Lubuski Theater in Zielona Góra. I learn from the program that in Slavic folklore, “Dziady” is a term for the spirits of ancestors and a collection of pre-Christian rites, rituals and customs that were dedicated to them. “Gusla” then is like encountering an ancient folk ritual associated with summoning of souls of the dead, during which the living help the dead regain peace of mind. The dead in return impart warnings and moral lessons to the living. The essence of these rituals is the communing of the living with the dead to establish relationships with the souls of ancestors who periodically return to where they once lived their lives. The aim of the ritual activity is to win favour with the dead, who are considered guardians of fertility and the harvest. The performers are wraiths dressed in a kind of Mad-Max meets Siberian Sharman. The costuming is magnificent. Handmade and extremely individual using fabrics, artificial animal skins, beads, shells, and feathers. Elaborate animal head masks are worn; smudged makeup creates the feel that the ritual has been taking place over a long time. The haze filled atmosphere and continual music from a piano adds to the extreme mood. Each actor is given a spoken monologue and most of the ensemble text is sung. As there is no “fourth wall” the effect is that the ritualised performance is aimed directly to us. The language is guttural and sounds intense – the faces, bodies and emotions of the performers support this intensity. There is a lot of sweating and thrashing. The simplicity of the staging relies entirely on the performers and their bodies to create this complete and unknown world. I make the link to a philosophy of intense acting which encompasses music, text, voice, body, and imagination, allowing actors to fully embody their roles and create performances with a strong musicality and sensory impact. The company’s commitment to integrating all of these elements in its training process has resulted in powerful performances of emotional depth. “Gusla” is a rare opportunity to see this company on stage without concession to sur-titles or other methods of translation. Lubuski Theater ask us to be present, put aside preconceptions of high or obscure European performance and embrace the on-going creativity of a company committed to sitting at the edge of theatre-making. I note that Polish company Song of the Goat is presenting “Andronicus Synecdoche” at Edinburgh Fringe. I will make sure I catch it. Kate Gaul

Journey to the East Productions presents “Weathervanes” as part of the Made in Scotland showcase at Edinburgh Fringe. It is described by the artists as a ritual dance theatre experience – “a re-thinking of the beautiful and what is holy”. A small audience in ushered into a gallery space for this 30-minute encounter in the Summerhall Lower Café Gallery. The low-level lights create a welcoming vibe after the bustle of the day. A low fog is engulfing the floor space and emanates from the patches of oasis – three installations of realistic grassland in which sits a mirrors plinth and on top a naked human who is moving slowly, ritualistically, gracefully. The bodies become surfaces for video projection and overall, the lighting in inn interplay with these bodies over the 30 minutes. There is nothing salacious about this display. A fourth human sits on a floor playing and intones as well as playing some brass bowls. It’s all very atmospheric. Audiences are invited to move around the installation or find a place to sit – there are benches and cushions. It takes time for us to slow down and become present with the work. This performance-installation is asking us to consider the human body in a way that restores our connection to ourselves and nature. We are reminded that Western Art is full of depictions of the nude body in painting and sculpture. Artist Jian Yi reframes concepts of beauty by this revisioning of “living sculptures” that centre Queer People of Colour. There’s definitely some reference and use of Trance and Bodyweather practices in the work. This is a unique and quite stunning example what’s on offer in Edinburgh and a rare opportunity to encounter resonant and life affirming performance-art. Kate Gaul