Rob Heaslip is grinning at us from behind a giant pine-wood board. He introduces himself, tells us about his young family (‘we are two daddies with one five-year-old adopted son’), and explains he will sing two Irish songs during the show, both of which he regularly sings at home (even when his son asks him not to). He is a beautiful singer, and the heritage you can feel weighted in the first lullaby is electrifying.

Then comes time to see what the board has in store. Slowly Heaslip begins to examine it, casting shadows on it, squaring off small sections with his fingers, balancing it. He seems uncertain, finding his way around the board. He sets it up in the middle of a cluster of chairs and dances on it, ceilidh-style, pats it on the back like an old drinking buddy. It too feels weighted with heritage, but in a slightly more rigid way, stiff with its designated, handed-down purpose. 

After stripping naked and reclothing himself in a shinier shirt and chic glasses, Heaslip sings again. This time his voice is wilder, freer with the tune. Now he starts finding ways to play with the board, sliding down it, climbing under it, rediscovering and seeing what he can do with it. There are beautiful ideas in this piece, about heritage and how we handle it, however its execution for the most part feels too drawn out. A shorter, punchier edit would distill the beauty further. 

Man & Board, Assembly @ Dance Base, until 25 August, 5.15pm.