Everything by My Side

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by Ng Yi-Sheng

Everything by My Side, by Fernando Rubio


By Ng Yi-Sheng


There's something quite lurid about the premise of this show. Sure, Rubio claims it's inspired by a dream of a childhood story remembered after 25 years of forgetfulness. But you describe the prospect of jumping into bed with one of an array of women for ten minutes, it's easy to make lurid jokes about bordellos and harems: wham, bam, thank you ma'am.

So I'd honestly thought the actresses of the show would be in a very vulnerable state.

And maybe that's true. But as it turned out, one feels pretty damn exposed and vulnerable as an audience member, too.


The whole thing's arranged with almost bureaucratic efficiency. You turn up at the National Gallery 30 minutes before your scheduled slot, and festival ambassadors guide you towards the fourth floor, where your registration is confirmed and you're given a number and told to wait your turn.

We line up in batches of ten and divested of our bags and cellphones. There are instructions to ensure that we enter in an orderly fashion and don