“Our society is often built upon power and hierarchy, yet I believe fragility is the more powerful force that connects us.” For choreographer and director Alessandro Schiattarella, who is affected by Hirayama disease, a neuromuscular disability, his past works have rarely veered away from the portrayal of “fragility”. “Fragility fosters a more stable and lasting connection than strength, because every one of us harbours fragility to varying degrees.”

The creative process explores and manifests “fragility” on multiple fronts. From stage design to props, sound, music and costumes, everything revolves around the notion of “fragility” —such as the plastic-filled jacket, sponge-material clothing and goalkeeper shor ts they wear. During the creation, each performer imbued objects with distinct meanings and imagery— such as “invisible material” and “silent balloons”. For the seen and unseen, or the heard and unheard, these perceptions may stem from societal structures and our own blind spots. Meanwhile, the seemingly unbreakable panels on stage contrast with the three ostensibly fragile bodies. Schiattarella remarks, “The panels might be barriers, or perhaps symbolise our most rigid notions.” Yet as the performers shift, assemble and transform the panels—as if in an amusement park—even repurposing them as projection screens to display the most exquisite images, it becomes apparent that thoughts may merely be illusions or prejudices imposed by society. “I want to show how illusions are created by humans, and that we can also create or shatter them.” He adds, “Every billboard in the city tells us we are not good enough, not accepted.” Yet it depends on how we let go of these standards and norms. As one line in the performance asks, “How come you assume your opinion counts?” 

Given the highly coordinated integration of multimedia, music, sound effects and visuals, occasional “glitches” are unavoidable: “We have experienced technical issues with music or video clips, but we gradually came to understand that these ‘mistakes’ are exactly what fragility is. Now, all three performers have learnt how to adapt.” Improvisation has even become their forte: “Laila once forgot her monologue, so the audience now hear her say, ‘My words might not match the subtitles.’ Alice’s keyboard once malfunctioned, so she hummed along; Victoria misdirected a balloon toss and said, ‘Never mind, I’ll probably do better next time.’ The more they perform, the more they find a connection to the work and discover personal meaning within it.”

What moves Schiattarella the most is witnessing their mutual support on stage. He illustrates this through Victoria’s monologue: “The moment that I remember was sliding on the floor towards Alice. I would feel the floor scratching my back. Then, Laila from the other side. And I could see her legs on top of my body... I could feel their bodies ready to support mine; we were moving like one organism, changing shapes, collapsing, reinventing ourselves together.” Compared to glass, perhaps humans are the most fragile of entities. When the performers exchange tenderness, care for one another, and form an alliance through “fragility”, merging into unity, they become the most resilient of beings. Humanity completes the human.

In this relaxed performance, the audience can enjoy it in their most comfortable and relaxed state, moving about freely, entering and exiting at will, or making soft sounds. “I believe this work is not created for a specific audience type but rather invites audiences from different life circumstances to engage with our piece. It embodies an embrace of fragility, giving the audience autonomy, allowing them to watch the performance within their own space in a manner that feels nurtured.”