We sat down with Zoe Zhao and James Shing Mu Cheng, the creative forces behind Black Bla, to discuss the intersections of theatre, movement, image-making and technology within their work. With backgrounds spanning experimental film, choreography, music, and visual arts, the pair bring an internationally informed artistic language to the stage, blending poetic narrative, spatial dramaturgy, and performance into a distinctive contemporary vision.
You can also find the ticket link for the event as part of Camden Fringe here:
https://camdenfringe.com/events/between-1/
The central question of the piece is deeply psychological. How did you approach translating such an internal conflict into something physical on stage?
James: I am interested in relationships between individuals, each fragile second, any potential decision they might make because of where they came from. Through analysing the background of each character and their emotions in every crucial moment, such as the vulnerability of this girl in the story and her dilemma with her father. Then I choreographed in contemporary dance with knowledge from my understanding of the script, personal experience, and imagination of different scenarios. I’ve also attempted to blend in theatrical movement language to make this work accessible for everyone.
Zoe: For me, trauma is never a story that can simply be told. It is a mechanism that operates before consciousness. I didn’t write Nerve’s conflict as something to be explained through plot but translated it into spatial logic: a descending frame, a floor that slowly contaminated, traces that cannot be removed. I wanted the audience to feel a sense of unease they couldn’t quite locate. Her body knows the answer before language does. That gap between knowing and stating is where the whole piece lives.
The story follows Nerve’s struggle with love and relationships. How much of this journey is shaped by specific research into trauma, and how much comes from your own observations?
Zoe: The development of Nerve emerges from an intersection between trauma-informed research and lived observation. Drawing on Van der Kolk’s articulation of how trauma is retained somatically, I approached Nerve not as a psychologically “weak” subject, but as a body structured by adaptive survival mechanisms, particularly in relation to abandonment.
However, the translation of this framework into performance required observational grounding. In lived relational dynamics, control rarely manifests as explicit domination; rather, it is embedded within gestures of care, concern, and emotional dependency.
Therefore, research provided the structural logic of the character, while observation generated its performative texture. The work operates precisely within this tension.
The show utilises a descending frame, spreading black liquid, and shadows. Can you talk about how the pieces’ visual metaphors evolved during the creative process?
Zoe: The visual language of the work developed through a reverse process, where images preceded conceptual articulation. Rather than being designed as symbolic representations, these elements emerged as intuitive necessities that were later contextualised.
The initial white stage functioned as a constructed surface of order and containment, evoking a sense of artificial purity. The introduction of black liquid operates as an irreversible disruption of this surface. Its persistence transforms the stage into a site marked by contamination, aligning with trauma theory in which experience does not disappear but reconfigures the conditions of the body and its environment.
The chromatic opposition between white and black structures the visual field, while shadows resist fixed interpretation. Their ambiguity reflects Nerve’s unstable perception, oscillating between memory, fear, and internalized residue.
How did the collaboration between writing/directing and choreography function in practice? Were there moments where movement reshaped the narrative, or vice versa?
Zoe: When I write, I almost never describe physical movement directly. I trust that if the emotional and atmospheric language is precise enough, the body will find its own answer. What I gave to James, were detailed descriptions of perceptual states: the atmosphere in a particular scene, the distance between Nerve and the space around her, what shifts inside her body after a change in sound or light. None of this specifies movement. It’s closer to a sketch of an atmosphere, and I leave the rest to him.
James: In the beginning of the process, we discussed a lot about the storyline structure together to make sure the conversation between choreography and writing is open. We talked about different references from both sides and to align our vision about this script, for example Pina Bausch’s movements, Max Porter’s storytelling and the dance theatre with Crystal Pite. This start point allows me as a choreographer to be available to choreograph with the vision from Zoe and create materials that naturally align between us. Conversation in between is the key. Since the script/story is constructed by us together in a specific way, I respected the script as my priority and saw how choreographies can be arranged around the topic, scenarios and story settings.
What conversations do you hope this sparks in audiences about their own relationships or patterns?
Zoe: We’re not trying to convey a yes or no answer, what we wanted to present is a third possibility. An acknowledgment that both states can be real at the same time. I hope people leave with a little more patience for their own complexity.
James: I wish this performance may bring a curiosity about your own family background.
This piece asks whether recognition alone is enough to break cycles of trauma. Do you personally believe awareness can lead to meaningful change?
Zoe: I don’t believe recognition is enough on its own, but I don’t think it’s meaningless either. Nerve recognises the cycle she’s in, but that recognition doesn’t make her move out from the cycle, because her fear of abandonment still outweighs her desire for freedom. Recognition is just a beginning. But there is a long road between recognition and actual transformation.
James: I believe awareness is the first step, but transformation lives in the body, not the mind. You can recognise a pattern and still return to it, because the body remembers what the mind tries to forget. What I hope for is that awareness becomes a practice, something you return to repeatedly, until the body slowly learns a different way of being.