chad spence portfolio

Nomvula

During a devastating drought, a young urbanite leaves the city in search of hope.

Pendant une sécheresse dévastante, une jeune citadine quitte la ville à la recherche d'espoir. ____

Jaune

Love in exile

A poetic exploration of love’s incredible peaks and troughs.

A fashion film created together by Chad Spence & Anna Lee. Featuring Hannah Jay and Sarah Danaher. Design/styling by Thomas Sesoldi.

apologia

from the dark corners of semi-consciousness, between the spectres of dreamland and our reality of illusions, came a thirst for ultimate control and the realisation that freedom lies in going unquenched

depuis les coins obscures de la semi-conscience, entres les spectres de rêverie et notre réalité d’illusions, est venu un soif pour le contrôle ultime et la réalisation que la liberté se trouve dans le non-étanchement.  _____

Written and directed by Chad Spence.

In The Beginning

Drawing from several African myths that presuppose duality, this tale of futuristic mythology revisits the beginning of the beginning to imagine the origins of the gender dichotomy and engage in meta-reflection on how to reach beyond duality towards oneness.

Starting with a forceful separation of the creative force into two beings, the story journeys through their present state of conflictual otherness to arrive at a prophesy of their inevitable, blissful (re)unification.

Contemporary theatre piece created by: Chad Spence (conception, text, direction, performance) Marion Versatile (choreography, performance) Mishaq Diesel (sound design) Sandrine Mpazayabo (performance, narration)

Bad Day

Loš je dan // Лош је дан

Stressed, depressed but well-dressed, a group of disappointed idealists attempt to take back control amidst a crumbling world and are taught an important lesson.

Written and directed by Chad Spence Filmed by Anna Lee Design and styling by Domagoj Štimac Featuring: Martina Mandek, Aneta Grabovac, Chad Spence and Domagoj Štimac _____

Stresirani, potišteni, ali dobro odjeveni, grupa razočaranih idealista pokušava vratiti kontrolu usred raspadajućeg svijeta i podučavaju ih važnoj lekciji.

Computational Beings

A human being is increasingly bound by the possibilities offered him by technology. While initially experiencing an outburst of joy and connection, the user is increasingly restricted and alienated by his own addiction to these powerful tools and their insidious side effects, begging existential questions about future cohabitation with our creations.

An improvised performance at the opening of Festival SUTRA at the Museum of Science and Technology in Belgrade, Serbia which interacted with Darija Medić's installation "Računari". The installation featured reprinted covers of the Yugoslav magazine from the 1990s "Računari" or "Computers" that often displayed new technology alongside sexualised imagery of women. The artist recreated a space with office materials from the 90s surrounded by a cover frame to allow participants to imagine their own magazine issue that interrogated the intersection of art, technology and identity. Performers: Svemirka & Čedo Art Work: Darija Medić Photography: Yvonne

on verra

we shall see

a cross cultural faerie tale for these post-modern times.

shade

utopia is always cast in the imaginary - an illusion whose lofty ideals belong firmly in the realm of revery.

i would contend that utopia is completely within the realm of possibility, the path towards it, however, is long and arduous. it requires patience, discipline, compassion. it means the asking of some very tough questions about ourselves and the physical realities we find ourselves entangled in. it demands active imagination to bring down the ideals from their lofty heights and ground them in the soil beneath our feet.

reckoning

This docufiction short follows performance artist “Queezy” as they bid adieu to toxic masculinity

Où va le monde ?

Impressions of youthful emotions in a wintry city of love...

Summertime Sadness

Our Lady of New Worlds

at dusk you stepped from the shadows, masquerading. as we sat to break bread your face was revealed - a darkness reflected in the blade 
that cut out my eyes my tongue my womb. the long night of truth
 swelling like festering wounds.



throbbing.

in the cold I lay still,
 dreaming.
 as I wandered the desolate landscape
 a deep sorrow overcame me 
and I began to weep - for my songs for my children
 for the world that was before you.



panting.

At the very edge of Europe, tucked away between mighty peaks and still waters, lies a slice of paradise called Montenegro. Hearing of it many years ago, I decided to escape the decadence of the Occident on the wings of an eastern promise. 

Because of its location, this tiny nation has been caught in the throes of revolution and counter-revolution since the very beginning. Kingdom, empire, vassal state. Orthodox, Ottoman, Yugoslav. This land has seen it all. And it is this wealth of experience, I reasoned, that has left it so nonchalant. So easy. So accepting of the ubiquitous juxtaposition of the grand and the ludicrous - the natural order of things...

The Capital

Most of the old city destroyed by retreating Germans during World War II, Podgorica today is littered with the architectural leftovers of communism. Its position in a valley leaves it sweltering yet strangely pleasant. I spend my days wondering around, visiting the parks and churches, swimming in the icy river that rushes from the peaks behind the city. There I meet a man who regales me with tales of his adventures. His conquests. The places he’s seen. The women he’s loved. Curious about this, I ask him what line of work he is in. Trader? Seaman? “I have prostitutes,” he exclaims. Ah, so that’s what he meant by conquests. He then offers the use of his services to his new friend. I gently decline and carry on.

The Village

With no more than one hundred regular inhabitants, the seaside hamlet of Lepetani swells to accommodate many more during the summer. Luckily the majority of the holiday-makers are not yet pale Northerners in search of cheap escapism, but rather pale Serbians looking for fun in the sun. This makes all the difference to the energy about the place. It is self-admittedly a beacon of ’Balkan Style’.

All of the locals ooze the quirky wonder of the phenomenon: the photographer who opened his home to me. The cab driver who was so fascinated by my brown skin that she sent a photo of us to all her friends. The retired woman who followed me up the hill hysterically shouting “Arab! Arab!”. The mafioso-to-be who invited me to join his ranks. The drunken sailor who became my friend. The witch that smiled/sneered/laughed at me

I ended up willingly trapped, staying for almost a month, in a bout of what I now call the Lepetani syndrome. And what a blissful month it was…late brunches, lazy beach days, sundowners on the boat, balmy nights boogieing behind city walls…this was paradise at its best.

The Valley of a Thousand Peaks

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. And that laziness is only stress leaving the body. And that there’s a fine line between impressionism and well, not being bothered. So just enjoy the sunset. I did.

The Bourgeois Gentilhomme of Hampton Court (2015)

Our Lady of Good Hope

It was there amongst the ruins of my former life that I found my voice. It called out in agony and despair – lamenting a paradise lost. Soon after came the response, carried on the wind. A siren song of reappraisal that threatened to shatter my delicate understanding of what was, of what had been.

“Was it really paradise?”

Beguiled, I followed the haunting melody to a field of dreams, in the midst of which stood the fountainhead. Glorious and majestic, she sang with great power, her music ringing out amidst the decay.

“Though the wages of decadence be destruction, in death there is also life.”

Slowly, purposefully, her words seduced me. Battering my anguish, reacquainting me with sensations I had not felt for an eternity.