Walking into the small, humid, and intimate black box studio to the bare forms of dancers, Francesca Frewer and Antonio Somera Jr. slowly writhing on the floor takes me by surprise even though I am expecting this. EDAM Dance's Fall Choreographic Series at the Western Front in East Vancouver features a triple bill, of which choreographer Daina Ashbee's duet is the opener. As the small audience filters in and takes a seat with their wine or beer in hand, I have the opportunity to get acquainted with the dancers’ body contours and get over any immediate sensation caused by the surprise. French hip hop shakes the speakers. Oscillating movements, jiggles of breasts, twitches of muscle fibers, and the gradual onset of slick sweat turn the scene into a microscopic, anatomical music video. After three consecutive tracks of constant physical tension and steadfast commitment to a restricted and grounded body they get up in silence to finally make eye contact as bipedal humans. A series of Butoh-like, hyper-controlled, and uncomplicated movement patterns begin and are accompanied by release of bodily air through burps, sighs, uncomfortable laughter, and humming. I notice the house lights have gone off and we are seated in the dark. When the piece concludes we are an unsettled group unsure if this is merely a weighty pause and unconfident to fill the dark room with our abrupt claps.

     Nudity is still a relatively infrequent component in dance, unlike its historic presence in visual art and frequent exploitation in film and TV. Generally, Western society has become desensitized to images of the human body but it retains its impact when presented live, in front of you, sweating, and contorting. Ashbee's piece takes advantage of the power nudity has to capture attention and make a statement. Whether her statement reads beyond observing anatomy and physiology in action is up to the audience to decide.

     Once it’s over I look at the title for the first time – Instant Pleasure Pressure. Perhaps Ashbee is challenging the audience to sit with each chapter of the work until we are practically desperate for it to move on. Asking us to look past naked bodies and see just humans. Then, stare at them long enough that they stop being humans anymore. The sparse use of production elements (sound score, theatrical lighting, costuming) strips the work down to expose a fundamental and raw universal state of inhabiting the body. At the end of the day bodies are biological entities, made of the same ingredients, and simply containers for the human experience. In an era of gender politics amidst another surge of body liberation this thematic interpretation has poignant resonance.