Our second sharing gave us a valuable opportunity to test the evolving role of the mirrors within PLEASE. Having already discovered in rehearsal that synchronised movement into the mirrors could be mesmerising, both to perform and to watch, we wanted to push this further. We experimented with creating cinematic mirror scenes, where each performer faced their own reflection, generating intimate dialogues with self. The rest of the group and the audience became voyeurs, witnessing these private moments refracted back through the mirror.

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We also tested what would happen if we extended this practice to the audience by inviting them to join us in synchronised mirror movement. The question driving this was: would people feel comfortable copying our movements, and how would they experience themselves when reflected back in the mirror?

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The feedback we received afterwards confirmed that the mirrors held real potency. One audience member commented that the mirrors “pulled the narrative structure and highlighted the individual journey of each performer throughout the piece.” Another noted that “being a voyeur through the lens of the mirror heightened intimacy between the performers themselves but also between the work and the audience.” These observations confirmed that the mirrors were not simply scenographic tools but dramaturgical devices, shaping how intimacy and distance were negotiated in real time.

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Audience responses also highlighted the double-edged nature of mirror participation. Many found dancing with us in synchrony exhilarating. One person described it as “liberating, it gave me permission to stop worrying about myself and just move.” Others explained that the simple, clear invitation to copy a movement “took away the pressure” and allowed them to join in without fear of doing it wrong. At the same time, some reported discomfort: “When I caught myself in the reflection, I felt pulled out of the performance and back into myself.” For others, however, the mirror deepened their immersion: “Seeing the group synchronised in the mirrors made me feel part of something bigger, it was almost trance-like.”

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Shantal Ehrenberg’s study of mirrors in dance training captures this paradox clearly: mirrors can “cultivate self-consciousness as well as bodily awareness” (2010, p. 69). Our peers echoed this tension, some found the mirror affirming, others unsettling. Ehrenberg also suggests that mirrors inevitably blur “narcissistic pleasure and critical distance,” a dynamic that was vividly apparent in our sharing.

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Another important discovery came from comments about passive spectatorship. One audience member said, “It was just as satisfying to watch as to join in,” highlighting that voyeurism itself could be a form of engagement. This feedback helped us release our anxiety about “keeping everyone involved” and recognise that observation, too, can be enough.

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In practical terms, this sharing marked the beginning of two important developments in PLEASE: first, it encouraged us to refine choreographic sequences where the audience could remain still and simply watch, rather than always moving alongside us. Second, it pushed us further towards developing distinct characters, using mirrors not just as scenographic devices but as portals into vulnerability and self-exposure. What began as an experiment with reflection was now becoming one of the central dramaturgical tools of the piece. ​