„I Do Not Walk on Clouds, but on Solid Ground“ – The Truth in „The Whole Truth About Lies“

Even the title "The Whole Truth About Lies" is dialectically composed: if we are dealing with lies – then where is the truth? Yet perhaps, in the interplay of different types of lies, shared patterns and even a collective understanding of deception can be extracted – and in that very analogy, a fragment of truth may emerge.

“I do not walk on clouds, but on solid ground” – this famous quote by the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein stands for a wisdom rooted in lived experience, not in lofty heights or stars. Happiness is not found at the top of a climbed ladder, but in the solid footing on the ground and in what we hold in our hands.

As part of the "DIGI MUSE – Festival for Music and Technological Innovation 2025", the music theatre production "The Whole Truth About Lies", a co-production by the German ensemble Nico and the Navigators and the Schwetzingen SWR Festival, recently celebrated its Asia premiere at the Shanghai Concert Hall. This work, which artistically integrates AI technologies, interprets Wittgenstein’s ideas through a striking theatrical form.

The stage design of this production is equally noteworthy. A one-way mirror wall spans the entire center of the stage from left to right, dividing the performance space into various zones. From the audience’s perspective, the performers appear to be in the same space – in reality, however, they are separated by the mirror wall and move within different, mutually blind dimensions.

The real bodies and their countless reflections on stage may look similar, but are fundamentally different. This set design itself points to a highly topical subject: the illusion of AI. Here, the aesthetic effect of artificial intelligence is not only made visible, but its limits and fractures are also exposed.

One of the truths about lies is this: lies often look or sound more beautiful than reality. Although the stage uses only simple props such as rolls of toilet paper, the images – thanks to live cameras integrated into the stage and AI-assisted projections – are transformed into aestheticized illusions on the mirror surface. A singer, dressed plainly in white, stands facing the audience and sings. Her partner drapes strands of toilet paper over her shoulders. But in the mirrored image, the AI transforms the scene: the paper becomes a traditional headdress and skirt ribbons – like a living oil painting from centuries past.

Another truth about lies: there will always be someone who believes them. While the transformation of paper into flowing fabric still appears as an obvious aesthetic enhancement, the scene that follows – featuring “Les oiseaux dans la charmille,” the so-called Doll Aria from Jacques Offenbach’s "The Tales of Hoffmann" – dives deeper into the production’s layers.

Aside from the AI-based mirror illusion, all other artistic effects on stage are created by human craft. One dancer outlines the shape of a house on the stage floor using toilet paper and then sits behind the mirror wall — in the projected reflection, it appears as if he is sitting by a window within that house. The dancer on the floor in front of the mirror — seemingly seated next to the house — and he act in separate dimensions, yet the mirror visibly connects them. The singer of the Doll Aria, who is in the same real space as the dancer (on the opposite side of the mirror), accompanies the scene with ukulele and vocals. For the audience, the dancer — who removes the house frame and repeatedly tries to break through the imaginary wall — now appears as the supposed ‘third figure’ in the triangle. But her attempts at connection are continually thwarted by the sound waves of the ukulele.

This scene remains ambiguous: who is telling the truth here, and who is lying? Though the three figures are separated by mirrors and move on different levels — generating an illusion — we, as spectators, are still inclined to trust our ‘guided gaze’.

Another truth about lies: it often seems that a single person can speak for many. In 1965, American singer Barry McGuire wrote the anti-war song “Eve of Destruction,” a harsh indictment of U.S. society at the time.

On stage, the drummer sings this song, dressed in an orange life vest. Simultaneously, his image appears on the mirror surface – and next to it, a second, AI-generated likeness also in an orange vest. As the song progresses, this face and details of the vest change continuously, revealing ever-new faces in the reflection. The impression arises that the singer is voicing the concerns of many. But the question remains: can a single person truly speak for many? Probably not.

Another truth about lies: lies are often flawed copies of the truth – but when these copies join forces, they can overpower the truth.

To the sound of Chopin’s Piano Sonata No. 2 “Grave; Doppio Movimento,” two men stand behind the mirror wall and enter into conflict. When Dancer A suddenly appears as a double in the reflection, this duplicate seems at first to support him. But the mirror image – confined to the mirror frame and without visible feet – remains a flawed copy. Shortly afterward, Dancer B’s double also appears.

Eventually, multiple flawed copies engage in an increasingly chaotic fight. In the end, it is the two real dancers themselves who collapse in exhaustion.

The musical structure of Chopin’s sonata – in which lyrical, dramatic, and contrapuntal elements artfully intertwine – is perfectly mirrored in this scene: the internal logic of music and visual composition merges into an impressive philosophical reflection on lies and truth. And it is precisely in this that the sophistication of the production lies.

The entire piece thrives on the contrast between grounded reality on stage and the mirror images, along with the imaginary spaces behind them. At first, the relationship between floor and reflection seems clear: a simple mirror image, at most reversed and with a second of delay. But gradually it becomes clear how multifaceted and manipulative this apparent mirror world can be.

Much of the projected imagery emerges from the performers’ floor-bound movements. So that their mirrored counterparts appear to effortlessly climb mountains, plunge into abysses, fly skyward, or float weightlessly through water, the dancers choreograph their bodies on the ground in often extremely twisted and physically demanding ways.

One might understand it this way: it often requires far more effort than visible to make something appear outwardly light and effortless – or put differently: truth is hard-won, while beautiful illusions masquerading as truth often come deceptively easy.

Music – particularly the lyrics, which range stylistically from classical and art song to pop – forms the dramaturgical backbone of the evening, shaping the emotional arc that unfolds in close connection with dance and movement.

After another piano sonata by Chopin – the famous “Funeral March” – an actor appears shirtless on stage, symbolizing the concept of lies. He moves fanatically and expansively like a cult leader, gathering followers who surrender to him in an orgiastic frenzy.

For the finale, accompanied by John Lennon’s Gimme Some Truth, another powerful stage image unfolds: the performers roll in one by one, singing, and lie down side by side as if in a giant bed – each with a pillow beneath their head – and tear off strips of toilet paper to form the word “LOVE.” At the same time, they crawl under a massive sheet, finding comfort and closeness with those beside them. At the final note of the song, eight performers tear the sheet away from the Liar-character, leaving him uncovered and isolated at the edge of the stage.