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Have you ever joined a couple of friends, who were mid-conversation, and had no idea what they were talking about? That sense of confusion is exactly what I felt during this performance. I was thrown into a conversation between Ikeda and his work, and I was left lost and frustrated.
At the beginning of the production, I promised myself that I would keep an open mind, but by the end, I was ready to hightail it out of there. Everything that occurred in the middle is a blur of light and sound, and I am still struggling to connect those senses into one, coherent picture. Inhuman sounds and blinding lights were constantly bombarding me. At times, I had to close my eyes and cover my ears in fear that my head would explode. I understand that this performance may not be the type where you leave with a clear mental representation of what just occurred, but I did not expect to leave with only a headache and a desire for peace and quiet.
This brings me to my question: is this performance something that can be appreciated by people who are not familiar with the mathematical aspect? Every graph, line, and number had a role to play in this production, but I was not able to decipher what any of those roles were. As much as I tried to understand the mathematic hodgepodge on stage, my attempts were fruitless, and I was left more confused than ever. Perhaps my biggest downfall was my need to make sense of this production. Maybe if I had just watched and listened without trying to connect it to a bigger theme, then I would have found more clarity in this piece. Then again, it is impossible for me to sit and passively watch something without trying to find some meaning in it.

All comments by Ruby Siada

People Are Talking: UMS presents Ryoji Ikeda’s superposition at Power Center:

This was an incredibly interesting comment for me to read because after the performance, I had thought to myself: Hey, what if you didn’t try so hard to understand what was going on and just observed? The key to this strategy, however, is actually being able to relax your mind. It is much easier said than done because when I try to stop focusing on something, I end up focusing on not focusing. My mind refuses to stop, and I end up more frustrated than when I started. I respect your ability to relax your mind, and I will definitely work on that during future productions.

In response to:
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While watching Superposition by Ryoji Ikeda, I couldn’t help but get lost in a cloud of confusion, constantly telling myself to find a deeper meaning in the performance and failing to find it. However, after I actually gave up and let myself listen mindlessly, I started to notice things about the noises I was hearing that I wouldn’t have if my mind was trying to focus too hard. When the black and white squares were going down the large screen and then continuing onto the smaller screens, it reminded me of rain. Each white flash looked like a raindrop, and the noise made in the background seemed almost like thunder. Soon after, when the performers were making noises that caused vibrations, it sounded much like the buzzing I hear in my ear when an airplane lands. Lastly, a certain image on the screen and sound started to repeat itself over and over and I could hear a beat in the background. Before I knew it, my foot was tapping along. I realized that my mind and perhaps every human mind can relate to order and familiarity and doesn’t like disorder. By looking at the performance as a whole, one can get confused in all the changes in sounds and images. It was frustrating not being able to figure out what was going on because I had never a seen a performance like Superposition. However, by relaxing my mind and recognizing the little things that were familiar to me, the performance became easier to understand and enjoy.
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by Sarah