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In “Glass Pulse,” fragility became strength. We filled an empty museum wing with hanging sheets of tempered glass, each one vibrating to sub-bass frequencies. As sound traveled, cracks appeared — not from destruction, but transformation. Every break became a rhythm, every fracture a note. It was chaos turned symphony.
A. Álvarez
Sep 22, 2023
The concept behind “Glass Pulse” was simple but dangerous: make sound visible. We wanted to explore the breaking point — literally. The installation used low-frequency waves to make suspended glass panels vibrate and eventually shatter. What started as violence turned into choreography. Each crack formed in slow motion, echoing across the room like a heartbeat under pressure. It was haunting and hypnotic. By the end of each performance, nothing was left untouched — and yet, it felt whole. The shattered pieces caught the light like new constellations. “Glass Pulse” reminded us that beauty isn’t found in permanence, but in transformation. Destruction and creation, it turns out, share the same sound.
What happens when you remove the stage entirely?
You remove hierarchy. When there’s no front, no spotlight, no audience — there’s equality. “Drift Parade” reminded us that art doesn’t belong inside walls; it lives in motion. The street became our stage, and the city responded — people danced, cars honked, lights flickered. It was chaos, yes, but also communion. Everyone became part of the same flow, moving without knowing why. That’s freedom — when creation stops being presentation and becomes participation. The world already performs every day; we just joined the rhythm for a while.
“Movement doesn’t always need purpose. Sometimes the walk is the performance.”
Nadia Soto, Choreographer
