A man walks on a treadmill. His gaze fixed, his body rocking slightly with each step. The soft hum of the treadmill grows. Its vibrational energy radiates from the stage floor into my feet. Filled with anticipation, I lean in. And the race begins.

Running Piece created by Jacques Poulin-Denis and performed by James Gnam runs for 55 minutes during which the treadmill never stops.  Part dance, part marathon Running Piece re-works the oft-overlooked task of running and explodes it with imaginative possibilities. Gnam is not simply running on a treadmill, he’s running with it, against it, and because of it. By confining his dancer to the treadmill, Poulin-Denis invites us to consider the plethora of ways we run — and more importantly, why we run.  A high level of articulation, often occurring in micro-shifts between tension and relaxation in isolated parts of the body, deconstructs the running. Yet, haunting thematic images emerge resisting complete deconstruction. At times, the runner seems to be dominating the treadmill, his movements punctuated and forceful.  This energy, however, is not sustainable. As the runner grows tired and wary, the sonic and visual elements of the piece overpower him and he submits to treadmill’s relentless pull. It is impossible to ignore the cultural resonances of these images — our obsession with fitness culture, our capitalistic drives towards success, and our valuation of the individual over the collective.  While Running Piece explores the beauty and mechanics of running, it also asks us to turn inwards and question our own motivations.

Amidst the constant action, the runner finds a rare moment of stillness stepping back from the treadmill. I sigh in relief. Then, as if beckoned back by its charm, he places his hand down and the treadmill slowly pulls his body back. Reunited. The cycle begins again.