Is freedom a solitary or a social genre? Idyllic? Comic? Tragic? Is it all of these? If no one sees it, does it still happen, or is it necessary that someone external identifies, captures the moment? What is the measurement of freedom? It’s a difficult question. This piece invites us to think freely about this.

It has been four years since Timothy and the Things has premiered a new creation. In their new production Escapologists they seek dive into the questions of individual liberation, the concept of freedom embedded in a social system where the detachment of the self is uninterpretable. How can we experience our personal freedom within a system, as part of a system, and could the experience of mutual liberation be achieved through collaboration? Exploring all of this through clear, abstract, kinetic systems the artists aim at creating a pure, honest and naïve space where experimentation, trials and errors, construction and destruction, support and resistance are all integral parts of the process.

"When I lay my head on his chest, I was gripped with infinite dread. It was as if a longer and longer pause passed between each beat. I never knew when the next one would come. Would there even be a next one? Yet, not even seconds passed. The fabric of time stretching is terrifying. It was a completely different feeling, sailing on a bottomless ocean, which is what he is, and I'm only connected to its surface. We live in a speeding up time, and all the while we are waiting, wishing for the other's heart to beat again, because a million things have already happened in the meantime, why wait so long between two beats...? It's nerve-wrecking. Just one more breath, just one more beat. It's not that much to expect for a moment. And then the next one. Then all the others. Just one after the other. In this panic, how could I possibly comprehend this bottomless abyss anyway? I can be happy just to drift on my boat on this unknown surface and think about it, panic about what might be deep down there, what is trying to push me, to carry me along, pulsating, breathing..." - László Fülöp