The Shakers, one can imagine, were a happy people. They sang glad, anyway. Burden-lived and bored, they built halls to contain their society—halls of polished wood, that comprise their own chairs and tables. The walls of these halls were fitted with large pegs so that after a meal, all the furniture could be hung up and the hall was for dancing.

The hall spotless after every meal.

Seattle's Akropolis Performance Lab creates theatre and para-theatrical activities that maintain a continuous presence and movement, with a happy minimum of lights, props, costumes, masks, and other distractions. The group's performers create a series of elemental actions that shift wildly from place to place or shift in intention—most of which are transfixing. The worlds they make (or bring to return) are both rich and invisible.

This week we have the opportunity to see Akropolis' latest piece, based on a cycle of Shaker songs, which has the character of those spotless post-meal halls. I'd say it makes you feel as if you're in the hall, but there's no illusion: you're just here, amongst these other people. What catches your attention is the glance and the notion that pass between people: someone catches your eye in the middle of a song and it makes him smile slightly. A singer dips her hands in a bowl of water and goes to a patient spectator, touching the water to his temples.

You know this watcher, he is a technical man, good with a wrench, acute of mind, sometimes sarcastic, sometimes insincere. He has no prescribed part in the performance—but with the water on his temples, he closes his eyes and bows his head. You can't help but watch him: What does he feel?—What does he imagine? His eyes are closed. The singer moves on; she glides the water down another audience cheek.

The hall spotless after every meal.

Jan 30–Feb 2 at Oddfellows East Hall Theatre, 915 E Pine St, Seattle WA.