Deeper - Ameena Green - No Noise -18.07.2024- <DELUXE>

The room is half-empty, but not in the way that suggests failure. It is half-empty by design. On the evening of July 18th, 2024, at an unmarked warehouse space in East London, thirty-seven people sit on simple grey cushions. They have signed a waiver. Not for physical harm, but for something far more unsettling: they have agreed to no noise .

No phones. No whispers. No shuffling of programs. No ambient hum of expectation.

“I’m not anti-music,” she clarifies, wrapping her hands around a lukewarm tea. “I’m anti-sedation. We use noise to fill the void. ‘Deeper’ is about jumping into the void and realizing the void isn’t empty. It’s full of you . And most people are terrified of that.”

Then a bus drives by. The spell breaks. But the fracture remains. Deeper - Ameena Green - No Noise -18.07.2024-

Halfway through Deeper , there is a moment that will become legendary among the avant-garde circuit. Green stops moving entirely. She sits cross-legged. She looks directly at the audience—not through them, but at them. She holds her hand up, palm flat, like a traffic cop. For four minutes and thirty-three seconds (a direct nod to John Cage), she does nothing.

As the audience files out into the wet London night, no one speaks. They don’t look at their phones. They stand on the pavement, blinking, listening to the rain hit the awnings. For a few precious seconds, the whole world feels like Deeper .

The Quiet Unraveling: Ameena Green’s ‘Deeper’ and the Art of No Noise The room is half-empty, but not in the

“It’s like staring at the sun,” says Mark Felton, a sound engineer who attended the premiere. “I spend my life fixing noise. I never realized that the loudest thing in the world is a person trying not to make a sound. You hear the blood in your ears. You hear the building settle. You hear your own thoughts, and they are deafening .”

Green’s work comes at a specific cultural tipping point. We are living through the era of the “dual screen,” the 24/7 news cycle, the infinite scroll. Noise has become a weapon of mass distraction. In her artist’s statement for Deeper , Green quotes the Canadian composer R. Murray Schafer: “The modern ear is a sewer.” She wants to unclog it.

To call it a dance would be a lie. To call it theater feels too loud. What Green has constructed is a 47-minute excavation of the self using the absence of music as its primary instrument. There is no score. No found sound. No breathing looped through a subwoofer. There is only the rustle of her tendons, the soft percussive thud of her heel meeting the floor, and the terrifying, intimate sound of her own heartbeat amplified by a contact microphone taped to her sternum. They have signed a waiver

In a world screaming for our attention, Ameena Green asks us to turn it off. Her latest piece, Deeper , isn’t a performance. It’s a confrontation with silence.

Ameena Green, the 29-year-old choreographer and “silence artist” (a term she begrudgingly accepts), stands at the center of the concrete floor. She is wearing a grey shift dress that absorbs light. For three minutes, she does not move. The audience, trained by a pre-show email that was ruthlessly polite, does not cough.