Early this year I spent a memorable Saturday afternoon in an East London church hall playing with aluminium foil. Why, you may well ask, would a grown person do that?
 
Before answering I can regale you with some of the things that occurred in this informal laboratorial research experiment, for that’s what it was. I found myself tearing and scrunching the foil into little balls and, hunkering down on the floor, used my index fingers to flick ‘em away. I partnered up with a stranger and in a scant few minutes devised a half-baked game with arcane rules involving flipping foil balls and, what the hell, scooting under a table as well. But by far the most intriguing and resonant activity was watching as others in the room enveloped their entire heads, arms and other body parts in malleable, noisy silver and then – and here was the real kick of the day – me doing the same in my own improvised sculptural style.
 
All of this (and more) occurred at the invitation of Anton Mirto. Bewitchingly dark of eye and hair, and equally noted for a sharply developed yet warm sense of ironic humour, Mirto is probably best-known as one half of A2. Formed in 1999 with Alit Kreiz, the latter is a process-oriented installation and performance-making entity whose work has been commissioned and presented at national and international venues including the Royal Opera House, ICA, LIFT, The Place and Tate Modern (London), The National Review of Live Art (Glasgow), Storey Gallery (Lancaster) and Yorkshire Dance and – take a deep breath – in Spain, Israel, France, Germany, Slovenia and Austria.
 
As a longtime fan of A2, if asked to describe the duo’s work I’d be prone to recall sensations and themes and the materials used to get at them. Materials first: black tights, piles of dirt, cling film, bubble wrap. Themes: death, culture, perception, values, the environment. Sensations: messiness, vulnerability, uncertainty, fear, beauty. What ties all these disparate elements together is a human core. Meaning what they do never strays too far from the notion of trying to get a handle, however obliquely grasped, on what makes us tick in the world right now.
 
Earning Innocence is the name of Mirto’s first crack at making something independent of Kreiz. (The partnership isn’t by any means dissolved although it could, by rights, be considered intermittently dormant of late simply due to physical distance.) Anyway, it was researching this production – which premieres as a work-in-progress at The Yard Theatre later this month – that prompted Mirto to corral on different occasions a couple of handfuls of people, including yours truly, and encourage us to seriously fool around with foil.
 
So what was it like to encase my own head in the stuff? Disorientating. Exciting. Oddly exposing although hidden. Restricted, yes, yet somehow temporarily liberated from being me. I was effectively masked but, unless I gouged holes in my own aluminium face, was unable to see or breathe well. Although I knew I was being observed by others in the group, and was for a few hours a part of the friendly-awkward little tribe Mirto had created, at times (especially during the last and longest improv) I felt daringly, dangerously isolated and alone. And in some strange sense nearer to some true self, too. Go figure.
 
I’ll drop the formality of surnames now. Let’s call Mirto by her given name and see what she has to say for herself about Earning Innocence and how it fits in a possibly bigger creative scheme or philosophy.
 
Donald: What prompted you use aluminium foil in the first place?
 
Anton: For a while I’ve been thinking about finding more immediate ways to create a mould for the face and other body parts, taking inspiration from the figures preserved in lava at Pompeii. The idea is to generate multiple versions of the self, and also to express being stuck or holding a position, a set behavioural pattern or a point of view even when the surrounding context may change. As a visiting lecturer at the London College of Fashion I was introduced to a myriad of materials, which I explored with various student designers.  But it wasn’t until one Sunday while roasting a chicken that I discovered the pliability of silver foil.
 
Instead of me putting it on the chicken it was instinctively drawn up to my face and, by applying pressure, I began to delineate my contours. From then on each time a friend visited I asked them to do the same. No one refused! And, gradually, exchanges about finding, hiding and preserving the self emerged. Foil became a way to quickly represent the self and/or the potential persona we 'put on’ to hide, disguise or assume a different personality. Whether creased, animated or smoothed, aluminium foil can embody. At the same time I was also reflecting on ideas of being and knowing the self, whether it’s a case of learning or remembering who we are (and that everything we need to know we may know already). Can looking for who you are be who you are? And how do we get back to ourselves?
 
Donald: So, what kinds of things are you learning from creating this work?

Anton: That live making – in this instance sculpting blindly, as the performers cannot see what they’re doing –  draws curiosity and wonderment towards the unknown course that the making or construction will take. That not all angels have wings. (I knew this already but have been reminded again of people’s kindness). That the intricacy of finding another new language or form can hold an emotive value. I realise that with each new work I’m always looking for a new performative form.
 
Donald: How does it feel to fly solo, as it were, and how – if at all, and apart from the obvious – does what you’re doing differ from what you and Alit do together?

Anton: There’s no one to creatively debate or brainstorm with, or call and breathe deeply down the phone with. No one to share the twitch in the left eye with and who has a twitch too – and at the same time! Together with Alit Kreiz I am A2 but although the company is currently less active, it’s still alive. We’ll be taking up a unique creative residency in Italy later this year.
 
Donald: How many people will be in Earning Innocence and, without going into excessive detail, who are they?

Anton: Four or five coming from different backgrounds. There’s a choreographer, a dancer, a film-maker, an illustrator…
 
Donald: Is it too early to ask what the performance will look/sound/smell/taste/feel like?

Anton: It will be shiny and reflective, and sound crunchy. It’ll smell of the more inner awareness and essence of those that perform. It’ll have an element of risk as they cannot see what they’re doing, nor hear because the scrunching and creasing is loud in their ears.

It will attempt to temporally preserve a sense of presence – a kind of present experience of oneself, and of being alive. It will speak through the medium of fine art, painting, performance, sculpture, installation and sound, and although it’ll be presented as a 30-minute work in development it’s destined to be a more durational event.
 
Donald: A little late to be asking this, but how much of a surprise is the foil meant to be?

Anton: No surprise. The audience may get hit with it as soon as they enter!

Anton Mirto presents
Earning Innocence
at The Yard Theatre
7.30pm, Tuesday, 25th - Saturday 29th March
theyardtheatre.co.uk