Space. Between.

Space Between:  Distance, neutrality, resistance

Questioning & Re-Questioning Stream of Consciousness

Dance leaves so much to the imagination, to interpretation, to the biased eye.  I see dance as partially ineffable and partially relatable.  As an audience member or writer on dance you watch other bodies create art before you.  As a dancer, you’re moving body creates art for others to absorb.  We all have bodies, that are colored with unique experiences and tendencies that affect how we perform, see performance and write about it.  What is this space between these different roles in relation to dance: that of the dancer, of the audience, of the writer?  There is this palpable distance between all three.  How close we want to get, how neutral we choose to remain are what makes experiencing dance interesting, and, in my opinion, worthwhile. 

The common denominator is the body and, inevitably, the mind.  The dance world invites the body and mind to intersect.

Distance.  Neutrality.  Resistance.

Audience.  Writer.  Dancer.

There is a physical and emotional distance between the dancing bodies and those watching in the audience.  I think about how I feel when I see dance:  Appreciative, impressed, judgmental, jealous, curious, uncomfortable, bored, entertained.

There is a sort of neutrality, a keenly focused eye, which dance writers seek to attain.  I think about how I feel when I write about dance:  Unsure, challenged, intelligent, confused, important, in tune with lasting images of the dance.

There is a resistance on the part of the dancer to be seen as just another human body moving – rather they often want to transcend, impress, accomplish a choreographic goal, take on a role, make art.  I think about how I feel when I dance:  Free, self-conscious, aware, on display, hopeful, in tune with my body.

But, as is with dance in general, nothing is so clear-cut.

Dancer’s also struggle with distance with their audience and neutrality amongst a group, for instance.   Audience members also may be neutral to certain dance performances with no emotional attachment going in, may be resistant to interpret or let themselves really see the movement rather than just the tricks.  Writers are inherently distanced as they must use a pen and paper to describe the bodies moving in space, the images they captured, and also deal with the distance brought by time.  They resist to judge, offend, hide or highlight their opinions. 

Perhaps these spaces in between aren’t as obvious or as black and white as they first seem.  Maybe they all meld together creating a world of dance that is hazy grey, no matter what role you fulfill in a specific dance performance.  Because we all possess the tool for dance - the body - are we all in some way (whether in our title, how we think, or how we relate) a dancer, writer and audience member whenever we partake in a dance performance?