Magnetic Fields - Behind the scenes

In the thick of finding the best shot: collaborating is about listening and acknowledging that directing doesn't mean one knows better, on the contrary. Yet, making decisions rests in one's hands.

We shall step up and look through this window. There are a thousand angles from which our eye could rest, only a few we have time to test. Instincts are to be trusted.

With perspective and light, whole new stories unfold. The early afternoon begged for a warm up in the sun and a quiet rest.

Building 6, soft carpet, private access, a great space to reach the floor, run and jump. We haven't kept this sequence. Yet, the sound of breath found its way into the next. The change of costume from red to blue also proved to be adequate.

We were blessed by changing skies. In this moment we felt we had found our tempo.

Turbine Hall, workshop: no skeletons are left in the cupboards. This space is metal from head to toe. We are here to give the dust a shake with a tap (above) and a flash dance (below).

We made our first steps in the so-called convict precinct. We entered an arena filled with yellow sand and sun. No bull fighting here, only red muletas. Finding our centre and circling around just felt right.

Entrance of tunnel 1: there is a stillness in this pause which belies the wind rush into the open darkness. We revelled in the shadows against the light as figures seemed to resurrect from Victorian times. The dancer would disappear like a butterfly attracted to the brightness of distance.

The journey ends in the entrails of the Dog-leg tunnel. Behind the iron wire, a documentary on repeat sends vibes from post-war newsreels. In the confinement of the space, the atmosphere is almost confessional. Under the caress of artificial light, the sandstone turns into feathers, faces into icons. The cello sends the departure call of a liner ready to take us away from the shores of the island.

Stripped from music and movement, we wonder, who are the two muses of our film endeavours? What's their relationship? Does the answer matter? Or have we simply created a story which resists any attempt of logical interpretation?