Picnic

This is the show you see when you can't decide between stand-up comedy, contemporary dance or a play. One moment you're sitting there laughing at an ironic quip, the next you're watching Gerard Van Dyck's face contort as he pretends to suffocate underwater in a nightmare, all to the subtle instrumental sounds composed by Alisdair Macindoe.

Picnic is a solo performance by Van Dyck, written by Marieke Hardy. A man goes for a picnic by himself with three eskys and a fluffy green rug. He talks to the audience, telling us of his life. He justifies why he is who he is, why he eats alone, why he likes talking to his phone and making video diaries: "Sometime you just want to feel that someone is listening."

He plays out his darkest fears of drowning, being old, infirm and withered. He draws on fonder memories of being a child. There are witty one-liners, like thinking that vegetarian sausages 'taste like shame', and analogies about relationships benefiting more from an iCal than they do from long distance.

Van Dyck is high energy, interacts with the space, embodies myriad ages and ultimately presents a man frustrated and intrigued.

The show is in some way a comment on how narcissistic and weird we have become thanks to technology. It feels like watching a one-way psychology session that leaves you walking out full of questions to ask yourself.