As part of a special Singapore International Festival of the Arts (SIFA) collaboration, we invite the artists and creatives involved in four of the presenting works to share more about the behind-the-scenes process, what they hope a festival like SIFA can help to shed more light on, and more reflections from their time as artists.
The extent of our reliance on technology to complete even the simplest tasks today would have been a surprise to someone from 20 years ago. Not only have our routines completely reformed with digitalisation, we have in the process almost forgotten the more “manual” ways of living that, in retrospect, were vital to keeping us grounded in our physical, corporeal existences.
The question of whether we can authentically coexist and create in tandem with technology is what the piece Strangely Familiar by The Human Expression (T.H.E) explores, especially with the incorporation of elements like holographic projections, motion capture and avatars. But how does technology affect performance arts like dance from a making perspective? Not as a choreographic tool but a new plane of expression. Dance, like theatre, requires human bodies to both bring to life and be received plus affected by; can the performer, performance and audience ever be replaced by technology? We speak to artistic director of T.H.E and choreographer Kuik Swee Boon to get a deeper understanding of his perspective, and how perhaps art forms meant to stand on a stage will be what roots us in our humanity as technology continues to develop and interweave into our daily lives.
Hi Swee Boon! Could you briefly describe what ‘Strangely Familiar’ is about?
In simple terms, ‘Strangely Familiar’ is a work that aims to redefine the relationship between people and technology from a humanistic and cultural perspective.
What moments or experiences embody the feeling of ‘strangely familiar’ to you?
I believe that while everyone’s experiences shape them differently, there are certain aspects of humanity that remain universal. Moments of “strangely familiar” often arise in everyday life. For me, this feeling emerges when I stop focusing purely on the surface — when I allow myself to look deeper. It seems that the more life experiences we have, the easier it is to feel that sense of connection or resonance.
What is something you want your audience to take away from this work?
I hope audiences leave the performance with a unique experience of their own. Even though we’ve incorporated elements like holographic projections, motion capture, and avatars, my ultimate wish is for viewers to feel more connected with The Other — whether it’s themselves, the people around them, or relationships in general.
Has the increasing digital consumption of dance changed your perception or exploration of movement over the years?
Not really. As it stands, current technology still cannot replace the energy of live, in-person performances. Digital formats, like livestreams or virtual art, are just different platforms or dimensions — they aren’t better or less meaningful, they’re just different. Of course, different mediums require different approaches to expression. The bigger challenge is commercialisation — digitalisation often speeds up and amplifies certain human tendencies, and that can sometimes dilute the authenticity of dance.
What would you say is the biggest difference between experiencing dance on stage versus on screen?
The biggest difference lies in perspective. On-screen, the perspective is always set — it’s very fixed and limited, no matter how well-filmed it is. During the pandemic, I created a VR virtual work called ‘PheNoumenon 360’, where the audience could freely change viewpoints and positions throughout the performance. While we gave viewers a lot more freedom and options, the sense of presence still couldn’t replicate what live performances bring. Ultimately, I still believe the best way to experience dance is to watch it live, in person.
What was the biggest surprise you encountered when putting this work together?
The biggest surprise was learning what it feels like to “learn from a stone.” It might sound a bit abstract, but for me, it’s about finding a deeper connection with the world by respecting the small, seemingly insignificant things around us. Sometimes, it’s the everyday objects and moments that teach us about building closer ties with the environment and the people around us.
The HollowBody methodology is something that T.H.E is built on, but not limited to. How would you explain the core of its philosophy?
The HollowBody Methodology is fundamentally about accessing the essence of things through both liberation and reconstruction, while cultivating a greater awareness of oneself and the world. It’s a structured approach that helps dancers enter a “microscopic” view of their bodies, discovering specific qualities of movement along the way. But to me, its core philosophy isn’t just about form — it’s really more about a spirit and attitude. Qualities like sincerity, curiosity, and respect for differences are what make it so valuable. Beyond all the technical aspects, these values are what I hope can be passed down and shared.
How would you instruct non-dancers to move, breathe or think in order to experience what this philosophy means physically?
I think the first and most important step is to simply listen — listen to your breath, your surroundings, and yourself — and allow yourself to accept whatever comes up. It’s about being open and receptive.
Has the methodology changed or expanded over the years? If so, how and why?
The HollowBody Methodology has no endpoint — it’s a process of curiosity, learning, and exploration. As long as people want to seek and understand themselves and the world better, it will continue evolving and expanding.
The digital being in ‘Strangely Familiar’ moves between the frameworks of intuition and invention. Where do you think dance should lean towards to progress in today’s art landscape, especially with AI in the picture?
Technology is an extension of humanity — it’s like a stone, neutral in its existence. It holds no inherent good or evil, and its true impact depends on the hands that wield it. While the original intent of technologies like AI was to bridge connections between people, it sometimes feels like the opposite is happening — leading us to a more divided, self-centred, or arrogant state. Whether this is just a temporary phase or a reflection of human nature, I hope that the future of dance can focus on clarifying this relationship, rather than blindly chasing innovation or progress.
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