Six parts of you are instruments — two hands, two feet, your belly and your head.
Move one and it plays. Then the room itself is ruled into lines: walk right and
everything lifts a step, walk left and it drops, and how high you stand in the
frame is how fast the pulse runs. Two dancers, A and B, each with their own six.
Allow the camera. Frames stay on this device.
Step back until your hips and shoulders are in view.
Move. Then walk the room and hear it change.
Video never leaves this device — the pose model runs in your browser. Nothing is
recorded unless you press Record.
Six parts, and only six. Two hands, two feet, your belly and your head. Each
carries one instrument. Six is the point — more than that and nothing is recognisable
any more. Swap any of them in the Rig tab, or take a whole kit in one click.
A raised hand is a higher note. Hands, feet and head fire on your pulse while
they are travelling, and how high you hold the part above your own hips is the note —
hanging low is the bottom of the range, overhead is several octaves up. Reach and it
climbs; drop and it falls. Long instruments — strings, pads, voices — enter on a pulse
and then hold, gliding in pitch for as long as you keep moving, so a slow lift is a
slow slide upward.
Two parts meeting make one sound. A clap is your left hand's instrument and your
right hand's instrument together, blended into a single sonority. A slap on the belly is
the hand's voice inside the drum's. Touch fires the instant you land, off the grid, and
where you land picks the note: near the edge for the low notes, inward to climb, dead
centre plays the chord. Two dancers touching blend their two kits.
Across the room is pitch. Vertical lines rule the frame. Cross one to the right
and everything you play lifts a step of the key; cross it to the left and it drops. Each
column is labelled with the note it makes home, and the line flashes the instant you
cross it.
Up the frame is the pulse. Horizontal lines cut the room into bands: low is a
slow half-time heartbeat, high is a fast run. Your moving parts only fire on that pulse
— which is also why a wild dance does not turn into noise. On each pulse just the parts
moving hardest get a slot, and how many is yours to set in Motion.
Travelling the room is the reverb. Moving across the frame is never a note and
never clicks — it opens the sound. Cross the room and the reverb grows, the delay tail
lengthens, more air comes through it; stand on the spot and it closes back down to
something dry and near. Working your limbs hard wets your own notes on top of that. Two
meters in the header show both: energy is how hard you are playing,
space is how far you are throwing it.
A and B. The first dancer in frame is A, the second is B, and each carries their
own six instruments and their own column and row — so one can be low and slow while the
other is high and quick. The chord under the room stands on the average of the two, so
you steer the harmony together, and you can reach over and play each other's bodies.
Left and right are yours, not the screen's. With the mirror on you see yourself
as in a mirror, so your left hand appears on the right of the picture — the rig still
calls it your left hand.