I wonder how much I can “review” a
dance performance when I'm not an experienced viewer. Actually, one of the most lasting awarenesses I think I'll have from
this course, as a spectator, is that of ghosting. I hadn't before
thought of what goes into the business of being an “experienced”
viewer before reading Sofer and Reason and Reynolds—and how being
an experienced viewer necessitates/presupposes ghosting. If performances "mean" more to experienced viewers, “meaning”
necessitates narrative; the narrative here (and perhaps anywhere) is
a series of ghosts—though whether it's a person, a dance move, a
musical score, or something else is a question of the mind of the
viewer.
I
thought of the various lenses that could be used during tonight's
performance: as clearly the top-billed dancer up there, Lalah
Hazelwood perhaps drew people who came to see her in something. They
might compare her performance tonight with seeing her in other
things, perhaps at other ages—other Lalahs from other times,
littler Lalahs from other years. For those people, various other
Lalahs come into the “room”--the space of the mind of the viewer.
Or, a viewer of “Esplanade” could be partial to any modern dance
that uses Bach, and entire other dance companies come into the room,
any other people the viewer has seen perform Bach.
It
gets me thinking about how crowded the mind-space gets in an
auditorium or stadium or lecture hall. If in some other dimension
what people thought about, remembered, or compared the performance to
(if they're even paying attention to the performance) were somehow
visible or the way in which it was present took up some kind of
visible space, what all would we see? A viewer who wishes she could
jump like that, who remembers the last time she felt really fit? A
viewer of “Straight Duet” who remembers a really terrible
off-Broadway production in which the only prop was a mattress? How
many things can be ghosted? An object like a mattress, which
perhaps can only be itself, or at least has a narrower spectrum of
“being” than a certain movement like Pirouette,
which
necessarily is different every time it's done; or a musical recording
which arguably is more “the same” than a mattress or a pirouette
every time it's played (and therefore, Phelan and Artaud might
argue, anti-theatrical?). Are any of these descriptions even true? I
don't know if I agree with my own categorizations.
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