Disparate Measures
Somniscapes - a Live Installation Performance by Marina Tsartsara
Degree show, University of Brighton Dance Studio 16 April 2008.
We had to take our shoes off. And for the first few moments, we were completely in the dark. What was that noise? Something else beside the sounds of the traffic passing and the ever present Brighton sound of pigeons and seagulls.
When the lights came up we finally saw what the trickling sound was that had made us slightly uncomfortable. Each of the three figures in olive drab and brown, in their own spotlights, were covered in uncooked rice (my guess would be American Easy Cook). Each figure was spread across, or lay in between a kind de-constructed four-pronged pommel horse. Each of the legs a different length.
Two of the figures began to move in their spots. The other lay apparently asleep. It was impossible to arrange yourself anywhere in the room so that you could see both dancers. We were told we could sit anywhere and walk around during the performance if we wanted, but of course most people clung to the edges. I placed myself as squarely as I could between the two moving dancers. Still it was hard to tell if they might be moving together, or reacting to each other.
What did emerge was the radically different styles of the two dancers. For one, as she moved, shifting her weight between the wooden pillars, each movement seemed to flow into the next. Even though there was no music, there was a musicality, a wish for music. With each change of direction, there seemed a muffling of a flourish.
The other dancer's movements were in contrast. She didn't yearn for any outside force. There was no need for flourish. She was self-contained, endlessly creative, self originating. She made things happen. No movement depended on nor anticipated another.
In the end, dancers slowed and fell between the pillars that they danced on. Angular postures, legs at odd angles suggested it wasn't a gentle finish. A fall or a crash maybe.
And then the third dancer stirred with yet another style of movement. Again slowly, but more hesitant, haltering and faltering than the other two. Before she managed to really get going, the lights were out and it was all over.
I don't know if the piece had an explicit, designed meaning, but, for me personally, a meaning was clear. Some parts of our life are poetic, lyrical, melodic and yearning. Some parts are stolid, dogged, self-sufficient and creative in the face of difficulties. The parts don't line up, they don't move in synch, they're too far apart. Some parts only start to stir when it's too late.
Degree show, University of Brighton Dance Studio 16 April 2008.
We had to take our shoes off. And for the first few moments, we were completely in the dark. What was that noise? Something else beside the sounds of the traffic passing and the ever present Brighton sound of pigeons and seagulls.
When the lights came up we finally saw what the trickling sound was that had made us slightly uncomfortable. Each of the three figures in olive drab and brown, in their own spotlights, were covered in uncooked rice (my guess would be American Easy Cook). Each figure was spread across, or lay in between a kind de-constructed four-pronged pommel horse. Each of the legs a different length.
Two of the figures began to move in their spots. The other lay apparently asleep. It was impossible to arrange yourself anywhere in the room so that you could see both dancers. We were told we could sit anywhere and walk around during the performance if we wanted, but of course most people clung to the edges. I placed myself as squarely as I could between the two moving dancers. Still it was hard to tell if they might be moving together, or reacting to each other.
What did emerge was the radically different styles of the two dancers. For one, as she moved, shifting her weight between the wooden pillars, each movement seemed to flow into the next. Even though there was no music, there was a musicality, a wish for music. With each change of direction, there seemed a muffling of a flourish.
The other dancer's movements were in contrast. She didn't yearn for any outside force. There was no need for flourish. She was self-contained, endlessly creative, self originating. She made things happen. No movement depended on nor anticipated another.
In the end, dancers slowed and fell between the pillars that they danced on. Angular postures, legs at odd angles suggested it wasn't a gentle finish. A fall or a crash maybe.
And then the third dancer stirred with yet another style of movement. Again slowly, but more hesitant, haltering and faltering than the other two. Before she managed to really get going, the lights were out and it was all over.
I don't know if the piece had an explicit, designed meaning, but, for me personally, a meaning was clear. Some parts of our life are poetic, lyrical, melodic and yearning. Some parts are stolid, dogged, self-sufficient and creative in the face of difficulties. The parts don't line up, they don't move in synch, they're too far apart. Some parts only start to stir when it's too late.
Labels: dance
Thursday, April 17, 2008 at 9:12 AM
