Wet Mess [GBR] | TESTO - Dansens Hus

Dyke lust, moustache meals and a choreography of guttural sexuality that pinches the dull flesh of life, where the magical is found in the mundane and where the imaginary becomes real.

Venue

Blackbox, Barnhusgatan 12-14

Duration

60 minutes

12 May

20:00

13 May

20:00

Note! Age limit 18 years. Please note that a number of scenes contain sequences of total darkness, explicit nudity, strong language, explicit sexual references and verbal references to transphobia. There are also stroboscopic effects.

In TESTO Wet Mess wet messifies the messiness of life with teeth and one chin hair; exploring transitions, testosterone, the edges of drag, the blurry line between performance and reality, character and self, and the magical in the mundane. Meet me at the computer of confused edges, for some guttural sexuality, too many images, where the made up shit becomes real.

Wearing our insides on the outsides, and waiting for the hateful crunchy key change. Expect moustache meals, desktop dreams, dykey desires, underwhelming overwhelm, trotting, lolling, humping, titting, farting, pinching at the dull flesh of life here and here and here and here and here and here. It's quite like, uh, I just back away, I, don’t perceive me, I'm in the wall.

Hoping you will understand,

Sincerely

Wet XX

TESTO is part of STHLM DANS - an international contemporary dance festival in Stockholm 5-13 May 2026.

Copy of TESTO 26.04

Wet Mess

creates performances and film works that move between drag, cabaret, performance and choreography. TESTO is a solo performance about testosterone, non-binary transition and how drag can be used to find, create and recreate ourselves on stage. Wet Mess is represented by Metal and Water.

Copy of TESTO 26.04 — Wet Mess TESTO

Square Image 1 Credit Josh Quinton @joshquinton — Wet Mess TESTO

Wet Mess TESTO

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TESTO is genderpunk at its finest - it embodies so perfectly the feeling of seizing your autonomy. Wet Mess peels back their own layers to build a devastating feeling of intimacy, and reflects the familiar feeling of wanting to tear one's skin off, or oneself apart. It's body horror for cis people and body freedom for trans people. Watching it feels like taking my first deep breath in a very long time.

The production quality and design are exceptionally high, with a beautiful set from which costumes emerge and then are seamlessly reabsorbed. The set shifts and morphs throughout, with what appear like long pregnancy pillows shifting into phallic structures, into a pair of legs, into a chaise longue. An LED sign sends us messages throughout, scaffolding the work with heart-breaking and resonant sentiments; “This is not a dream. You are afraid. But you are awake.”

All this effort was for a performance at Dalston Superstore, one of the London queer clubs in which Wet Mess cut those teeth, and where they are now revered as one of the most extraordinary performers on the circuit, combining costume, dance, lip-syncing and avant-garde theatre skills in one discombobulating package.