Rongo Whakapā is the debut choreographic work by Brydie Colquhoun, one of Aotearoa's most captivating Māori contemporary dance artists. In a time of disconnection, we're invited into a shared, intimate space.
In a world that feels increasingly rushed and fragmented, Rongo Whakapā offers something truly different. This is not your usual dance performance. Instead of taking place on a traditional stage with audiences confined to rows of seats, Rongo Whakapā invites you into a space where the boundary between viewer and performer is gently blurred. Presented by Atamira Dance Company and choreographed by Brydie Colquhoun, the performance becomes a shared, roaming exploration of intimacy, presence, and connection.
At the heart of Rongo Whakapā—which translates to "sense of touch"—is a desire to encourage audiences to slow down and reflect, not just on what they see before them, but on their own place in the world and their relationships with others. It is a contemplative work that creates room for stillness, thought, and a rare kind of quiet attention.
From the outset, the experience signals its difference. Upon entry, shoes must be removed, food and drink are prohibited, and seating is unallocated, limited, and peripheral. The performance takes place in a central, open area—a large white rectangle surrounded by minimalist corner installations. Downlights, strobes, and surround sound work together to create an immersive atmosphere that subtly shifts as the performance progresses.
Audiences are encouraged to roam the space, to choose their own vantage point, and even to move throughout the performance. But intriguingly, while this freedom is offered, most audience members gradually settle into stillness once the performance begins. Despite the open invitation to move, there is a natural tendency to find a place and stay put—a revealing commentary in itself on how deeply ingrained certain behaviours and expectations are within traditional theatre spaces.
The dancers, dressed in soft neutral tones, offer a series of physical expressions that quietly explore the theme of non-sexual intimacy. One moment sees two performers entwined in continuous contact, responding to each other’s shifting weight with spins, rolls, and balances that convey a deep physical trust. Another segment shows one dancer gently dressing another before guiding them through a series of motions, blurring the lines between autonomy and care. Elsewhere, pairs of dancers move in close synchronisation, mirroring each other’s forms with careful control and striking precision.
There is no story in the traditional sense. Instead, the performance flows from one interaction to the next—each movement an offering, a question, or a reflection on how we relate to one another. The choreography draws on Colquhoun’s extensive knowledge of contemporary dance techniques, improvisational forms, and score-based movement structures, which help to build a work that is both grounded and open-ended.
The set pieces are not just decorative. They are reconfigured throughout the performance—sometimes suggesting domestic spaces, other times creating compartments or enclosures that speak to themes of protection, isolation, or communal living. The lighting plays an essential role here, shifting from warm to cool, walls shifting from solid to translucent, casting new meanings on familiar shapes and guiding the audience’s focus subtly from one space to another.
The sound design by Eden Mulholland enhances the contemplative quality of the piece, combining soft piano, ambient textures, and vocal elements in both te reo Māori and English. The music never overpowers but instead supports the movement, weaving in and out of focus like a tide. Together with spatial design by Rowan Pierce, the production creates an atmosphere that is at once immersive and gentle—never overwhelming, always inviting.
What makes Rongo Whakapā particularly striking is how it uses the body—not as spectacle, but as a medium for ideas. The work examines the tension between individuality and community, a theme that is especially poignant in our current cultural moment. It gestures toward decolonising performance spaces, not through confrontation but through practice—through the simple act of gathering differently, witnessing differently, and perhaps most importantly, relating differently.
The performance is underpinned by wānanga, interviews, and conversations with Mātanga Mātauranga Māori, whānau, colleagues, and friends—creating a foundation of real-life exploration into how intimacy and connection exist in our daily lives. This grounding in dialogue and lived experience gives the work a quiet depth that lingers long after the final bow.
Rongo Whakapā is not an easy performance to categorise. It’s not theatrical in a conventional sense, and it resists the usual narrative arcs or climaxes. Instead, it offers something far more introspective. It is an atmosphere to be entered, a meditation to be shared.
This is dance not as entertainment, but as invitation—an invitation to breathe, to notice, to connect. While it may not appeal to those seeking fast-paced spectacle or linear storytelling, Rongo Whakapā will speak deeply to those open to experiencing art as a form of quiet communion.
In a time of digital noise and constant movement, Rongo Whakapā provides a moment of stillness. It asks us to pay attention—not just to what’s happening in front of us, but to what’s happening within us. It’s a performance that gently realigns your sense of self in relation to others, and in doing so, leaves you with a lasting sense of peace.
Rongo Whakapā runs for 1 hour and 10 minutes, contains haze and strobe lighting, and is performed in both te reo Māori and English. With limited performances and an intentionally intimate capacity, it is an experience best approached with openness, patience, and a willingness to reflect.
Rongo Whakapā is being performed at the Te Pou Theatre, with five performances only from 11-13 July, and limited audience capacity Tickets can be purchased here