"Mi porti qualcosa di antico." Unconsciously and not through appearance, but through the voice? Lidia, in conversation to the soundtrack of noxious tremors in an out-of-order Vespa on the tram avenue, following Jeremy Mende's "Anxious Futurism," a study in negation (of the beautiful, the image, the individual, the sponsored, and the futurist, of anything but response) in reverse. Prefaced by Giacomo Balla's Noise-Making Onomatopoeia Typewriter reperformed in the staid lecture room.

Followed by Aparna's performance of Bharatanatyam, 2000 years in the making and changing, in the eyes, heels, bells.

Is it possible to be the bearer of what one's balked at, circumnavigated, studied inassimilably, in the absence of all design?