Figures in Extinction: ‘If Separation is the Question, Then Connection is Surely the Answer’

Still from Figures On Extinction © Andrew Perry

‘Figures in Extinction’ is a three-act dance work that considers the climate crisis, the segmentation of the brain, and society’s attitudes towards death. It is at the same time thought provoking and deeply moving. (Sadler’s Wells, London, 5-8 November 2025. I’m afraid it’s over now. Let’s hope it returns some time soon.)

‘The way you treat the outer world reflects what is happening in your inner world.’
Simon McBurney

The piece is a collaboration, between the choreographer Crystal Pite and the theatre-maker Simon McBurney; between Nederlands Dans Theater and Complicité. The plan was for Pite to lead the first part, for McBurney to lead the second, and for the third segment to be composed jointly. In practice, the co-creators found that sharing responsibility was more productive.

I choreographed all sorts of things, and Crystal wrote scenes and shaped stories. We didn’t stay on our patch because we never felt we had a patch.’
Simon McBurney

In fluid, restless motion, the dancers congregate and scatter, circle each other and separate, coil and uncoil. With sweeping gestures and sinuous lines, arms arch, bodies quiver and hands flicker. The mood is dark and sombre, as a voiceover takes us on a philosophical journey.

Figures In Extinction -  Nederlands Dans Theater and Complicité

Section one catalogues the animals, plants and places that have become extinct in the last century. The dancers’ subtle movements suggest the Pyrenean ibex, the Asiatic cheetah and the passenger pigeon; a warbler and a macaw, a herd of caribou and a shoal of hand-fish; poisonous frogs, blossoming irises and melting glaciers.

‘That’s what we do, as humans: we label and list, like in a museum.’
Crystal Pite

We hear an innocent child struggling to understand the absences. Meanwhile, a suited climate change denier stalks the stage, spouting false claims and flawed logic. 

In the second part, humanity itself comes under the microscope. We listen to a lecture on brain science by psychiatrist and neuroscientist Iain McGilchrist, the words dramatized by the dancers

‘The left hemisphere yields clarity and power to manipulate things that are known, fixed, static, isolated, decontextualised, explicit, general in nature, but ultimately lifeless. The right hemisphere by contrast yields a world of individual, changing, evolving, interconnected, implicit, incarnate living beings within the context of the lived world.’
Iain McGilchrist

McGilchrist contends that, in our hyperactive contemporary culture, the left brain has become dominant, creating a tendency to rules, control, bureaucracy, and a loss of freedom.

As Albert Einstein is reputed to have said:

'The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honours the servant and has forgotten the gift.’

Figures In Extinction -  Nederlands Dans Theater and Complicité. Photograph: Tristram Kenton/The Guardian

McGilchrist concludes that we are increasingly confined in a ‘hall of mirrors.’

‘There’s a hall of mirrors effect; the more we get trapped into this, the more we undercut and ironise things that might have led us out of it. We just get reflected back into more of what we know about what we know.’
Iain McGilchrist

The third act considers mortality. Families gather round a death bed. A body decomposes. The Doomsday Clock ticks towards midnight. And yet still we turn away from accepting these stark truths.

Whilst in awe of the choreography and touched by the grand themes, I confess I found myself struggling to understand how the three parts of ‘Figures in Extinction’ linked together. And then, in the programme notes, I read an interview with Pite and McBurney conducted by Sanjoy Roy. The work, it transpires, is fundamentally concerned with separation and connection.

‘We began with the desire to approach the climate crisis, but as we dug deeper, we felt it boiled down to separation: our perceived separation from the living world, our separation from the intuitive mind, our separation from the dead. And if separation is the question, then connection is surely the answer. You can feel a yearning for connection running like a luminous thread through the whole show.’
Crystal Pite

I found this rather a compelling thought. It’s true: as technology professes to draw us closer together, we find ourselves drifting further apart. Separated by screens, shepherded by algorithms, isolated by doomscrolling, our information is edited and moderated; our thinking is processed and packaged; our experience is filtered and abstracted. We yearn for intimacy, authenticity, real feeling. We need to re-learn connection.

'Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer.'
EM Forster, 'Howards End'

'Hold my hand.
I am afraid.
Please pray for me,
When I am away.
Comfort the girl,
Help her understand.
No memory,
No matter how sad,
And no violence,
No matter how bad,
Can darken the heart,
Or tear it apart.
Take my hand,
When you are scared,
And I will pray,
If you go back out there.
Comfort the man.
Help him understand,
That no floating sheet,
No matter how haunting,
And no secret,
No matter how nasty,
Can poison your voice,
Or keep you from joy.'

Perfume Genius, ’
Normal Song’ (Michael Hadreas)

No. 546

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The Amnesiac Industry: If We Have No Memory of the Past, We Can Have No Vision for the Future

‘Mnemonic’ at the National Theatre Photo: Johan Persson 

Mnemonic’ is a play about memory and migration, ancestry and storytelling. (The National Theatre, London, until 10 August).

The body of a man has been discovered under Tyrolean ice. It turns out to have been preserved for over 5,000 years. How did the Iceman get there? Where did he come from? Was he a shaman or a shepherd, a victim of a patriarchal challenge, or of a pogrom?  

A woman disappears on the morning of her mother’s funeral. She has set off on an odyssey across Europe, in search of the father she never knew.

Her partner, left behind in London, desperately tries to make sense of it all.

A 1999 work by the Complicité theatre company, ‘Mnemonic’ was conceived and is directed by Simon McBurney. This imaginative, layered production uses props and visual effects to take us on a speeding train, into bars and bedrooms, and up to an Alpine ridge. We are invited to don a mask and feel a dead leaf. We meet migrants living in London suburbs. And an articulated chair plays a starring role. We are prompted to reflect on the interconnectivity of our pasts and futures; on the fundamental human need for narratives.

In particular, the play asks us to consider memory.

‘Memory is a pattern. Of electrical synaptic connections. Each time you remember, your brain has to re-make this pattern. It is a creative act, and it happens at a speed no computer can match. But the memory is different each time. And because the pattern can never be exactly the same, so it is… an imaginative act. Remembering is about discarding and choosing, forgetting and creating, losing and finding, dismantling and simultaneously re-making.’

Simon McBurney

‘Mnemonic’ begins with a discussion of a celebrated neuroscience case. (Also outlined in the Programme Notes by Daphna Shohamy, Professor of Brain Science at Colombia University.) In the 1950s a man underwent surgery for a severe condition of epilepsy. The surgeon removed his hippocampus, a seahorse-shaped structure behind each ear. The patient recovered well - his past memories, language, reasoning and sense of self remaining intact. But he lost the ability to create new memories.

‘[Subsequent research has established that] Patients with hippocampal damage struggle not just with new memories, but also with imagining the future. When asked to envision future events – such as plans for next weekend, or their next birthday party – their minds draw a blank.’
Daphna Shohamy

I was struck with this thought that our memories determine our capacity to imagine the future.

The communications industry proudly proclaims its talent for predicting, managing and creating change. It positions itself firmly in the future, always looking forward to the next horizon; to tomorrow’s world.

But it tends not to be so expert in the past, rarely reflecting on historic models, case studies and thinking; seldom studying the learnings of previous generations.  

It is an amnesiac industry. And as such it is constrained in its ability to progress at pace, and cursed continually to re-make past mistakes.

I’d advise young strategists to be historians as much as forecasters. I’d encourage them to read Paul Feldwick’s analysis of how different eras have understood advertising effectiveness (‘The Anatomy of Humbug’); to consider old D&AD, APG and IPA Effectiveness annuals; to talk to veteran practitioners; to visit the History of Advertising Trust.

Because if we have no memory of the past, we can have no vision for the future.

'Did we give up too soon?
Maybe we needed just a little room.
Wondering how it all happened,
Maybe we just need a little time.
Though we did end as friends,
Given the chance we could love again.
She'll always love you forever,
It's not hard to believe.
I want you and I need you so I’m...
Sending you forget me nots,
To help me to remember.
Baby please forget me not,
I want you to remember.’
Patrice Rushen, ‘
Forget Me Nots’ (P Rushen, T McFaddin, F Washington)

No. 480

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