Moving Like Water: Choreographer Gehao Zhang on Art, Code, and Human–Machine Creation

Moving Like Water: Choreographer Gehao Zhang on Art, Code, and Human–Machine Creation
Photo: Unsplash.com

By: Claire Donnelly

Human–Machine Collaboration at the Bath Art Fringe

As part of the 2025 Bath Art Fringe — a festival recognized for supporting experimental art and interdisciplinary dialogue — the thematic exhibition Human–Machine Co-Creation brought together artists examining the shifting relationships between technology and the human body. Among the featured contributions was The Water, a performance choreographed by London-based Chinese artist Gehao Zhang. Presented on May 23 within the exhibition space, the piece offered a thoughtful response to the curatorial theme, using movement as a tool to explore how human presence is influenced — and gently recontextualized — through ongoing interaction with machines.

Water as Form and Influence

In The Water, Zhang draws on the metaphor of water to reflect the subtle dynamics of co-creation between humans and technological systems. Just as water is fluid, adaptive, and structured without rigidity, the performance explores how the body shifts between natural impulse and external rhythm. The result is not a binary opposition of human versus machine, but rather a layered inquiry into how technology influences posture, pace, and perception. The Water exists within this space of transformation — where softness meets system, and instinct encounters encoded design.

Zhang’s work has frequently examined the permeable boundaries between body, technology, and subconscious behavior. With The Water, he amplifies this inquiry in a way that is tactile and immediate. The dancer — working under Zhang’s direction — appears to negotiate with invisible systems, some internally driven, others potentially technological. At times the movement is fluid, breath-filled, and wave-like; at other times, it enters repetitions that resemble algorithmic sequences, as if responding to a programmed set of cues. The piece does not simulate machine behavior but instead offers a bodily interpretation of its logic, rhythm, and subtle influence.

Water as Metaphor and Method

In public discussions, Zhang has referred to water not just as a symbol, but as a “method of inquiry” — a way of working that resists fixed interpretation, flows around challenges, and gradually shapes its environment. In The Water, this metaphor becomes strategy. Water, in Zhang’s framing, is not simply passive. It absorbs, but also reshapes, disrupts, and redefines. In an era where many human actions are tracked, predicted, and echoed by digital systems, Zhang’s choreography offers a form of gentle resistance: not by rejecting technology outright, but by engaging with it — moving through and around it.

Zhang’s interest in computational thinking and systems design informs this approach, offering him a distinct perspective on repetition, process, and structure in choreography. His background reportedly includes studies in computer science, which may contribute to the architectural precision and recursive patterns often found in his work.

The performance encouraged viewers to slow down and attend to shifts that might otherwise go unnoticed: a transfer of weight, a pause in breath, a moment of tension. This attunement fostered an intimate dynamic between performer and audience, where presence was not just observed, but shared.

Movement as Conversation

The relationship between the movement and the audience is non-prescriptive, yet deeply responsive. There are no theatrical signposts or dramatic crescendos. Instead, spatial awareness seems to unfold throughout the room, drawing viewers in not through spectacle, but through sensory engagement. The performance invites the audience to notice the subtle patterns — the way light reflects off skin, the softness of footfalls, the shifting tension across a shoulder. Viewers become quiet collaborators, not in shaping the work, but in witnessing its evolution.

The Body as Interface

One of the notable aspects of The Water is its framing of the body not only as a performer but as an interface — a medium connecting instinct and system. Zhang’s combined knowledge of dance and computational logic gives him a unique position to explore this idea. Where some artists view technology as a force imposed on the body, Zhang seems to interpret it as something already internalized — visible in posture, motion, and attention.

This is revealed in small interruptions: a repeating gesture that stalls, a flow that fragments, a phrase that loops and mutates. These movements don’t feel artificial or robotic. Rather, they evoke a kind of embodied negotiation — a quiet conversation between muscle and code, between motion and memory. The piece doesn’t portray machine influence directly, but instead examines what it feels like to live and move in a digitally informed world. This distinction is important and gives The Water its quiet depth.

A Practice Rooted in Reflection

With The Water, Zhang returns focus to the body but does so with the same conceptual awareness that informs his broader artistic practice. His work resonates with artists interested in exploring the relationships between dance, media, and meaning in more contemplative forms. Rather than aiming for visual grandeur, Zhang appears to prioritize spaces of observation, investigation, and subtle transformation.

This focus aligns him with movement artists such as Trisha Brown and Steve Paxton, yet his voice is distinct — both contemporary and culturally specific. His work challenges audiences to think with their senses and feel through their thoughts, a process that encourages introspection without demanding resolution.

A Layered Invitation

The Water does not offer simple interpretations or firm conclusions. Instead, it provides a space for reflection. Within its modest scale and structural clarity lies its impact: a reminder that, despite the proliferation of algorithms and interfaces, we continue to possess movement that is spontaneous, responsive, and fluid.

The work does not insist on itself; it unfolds quietly. Its strength lies not in scale, but in sensitivity — an ability to open up new questions about how we inhabit, share, and shape space in the presence of systems that increasingly shape us in return.

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