Soleil Chappelle's and Zoe Zimmerman's 2010 Boulder Fringe performance of "Language of Fish" evokes similar images. It is performed in a vacant lot at 3rd and Canyon in Boulder. The lot is overgrown with grass - much of it tramped down for the performance. A bright orange electrical cord stretches through it to power a lap top - the source of a minimal sound score - and a mature cherry tree sits in the "upstage" part of the space. Audience enters together along a tramped down path, and sits on sheets and/or "found" chairs of various age and disrepair. The traffic noise of cars on Canyon Boulevard racing into Boulder Canyon after being let loose from the last stop light overwhelms. The work begins with Zimmerman and Chappelle removing sheets from water in a wash tub and then improvising various movements with the wet sheets. They wring them out, wave them, snap them, and wrap them around their bodies. Throughout Zimmerman often shows an uncanny sense of what Chappelle's next movement choices will be and mimics them so closely it appears as a unison duet. They find frying pans - yes frying pans - hung and hidden in the cherry tree, dance with, on, and in those pans. They "drink" from a bottle hung in the tree. They dance in, on, and around chairs and with, on, and around each other. One brief moment - very brief - about love and sexuality, places them close in a second so erotic it shouts. They mime - directly mime - movements given them by a barely-heard-over-the-traffic soundscore. Children appear in the street and yell at the performers as their parents stand by and smile bemusedly. Zimmerman and Chappelle dig a hole. In the hole they find bowls full of dirt and leaves, which they pour over their heads. The audience sometimes watches them and at other times watch each other. One woman becomes self conscious about being watched, and points to the performers. The performers refill the bowls with dirt from the hole, add water from a huge teapot, mix the water and dirt into mud, cover their faces and arms with the mud, and delightfully rub their muddy faces together. They run to the edge of Canyon Boulevard, wait for a break in the traffic, run across the street and into the trees along Boulder Creek. The audience sits, begins to talk, and suddenly Chappelle and Zimmerman reappear on the far side of the street, faces and arms washed clean in Boulder Creek, and bow.