Hold Everything Dear is a delicate piece. It has a self-awareness which gives me a sense of how much time has been spent making it and how well it knows itself.
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I feel like a blindness is incurred when we talk about dance in this utopian, clear-cut, way. Asking ‘which is better?’ obscures ‘how could it be better?’
Refugees of the Septic Heart is both specific and generic. The dancing, the physical energy, the lights and the sound all possess constancy. The constancy sometimes feels like full bodied-ness and sometimes just like unchartered persistence. This singular energy of the piece is what makes me perceive it as generic.
I am uncertain why it is important that I say something about this work. As a dance practitioner, writing mainly from or through that perspective, I watch and think and speak through a frame tinted, shaped by dance practice. Here, I feel like a kid playing with different materials than Elena Molinaro. She is in the sandpit and I have the playdough. She's into watercolour and I like crayons.
I watch these humans gad about with tangibly less interest than before, except for a wisp, then a lead-balloon of a thought about the whole of humanity sending women to the dogs.
Something I like about Ben Wright's work is you never really know what you're getting. He doesn't evade style, exactly; each piece is quite comfortable in its own skin. It is more like an investigation of style. Or is it framing? Style or framing as content, perhaps, as starting point, as a way of proceeding or wrapping things up.
There is a platform on stage, the shape of a cross. A man in white is miming preaching at me. A trumpet player plays jazzy notes to replace his words. Cute.
Jazzy. Trumpet. Preacher.
A three-man-band sits dolefully in the corner. The miming gets more exuberent. He is a dancer. He does a back bend. Wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
Trains and theatres are much alike.
Thomas Hauert and Scott Heron are two men who are very different but who also very easily shift into strangely similar beings, even sometimes into one conjoined being. Sometimes this morphing in and out of each other is a physical act – they might tangle until their limbs are indistinguishable, or they might dress the same – but sometimes it is caused by something intangible.