Profoundly weird
Just got back from seeing Bill Coleman's new dance production, called Hymn to the Universe. I can't decide which part was more strange:
* A bare-breasted Laurence Lemieux (Bill's wife, btw), completely covered in blue body paint, depicting Krishna
* The sublime Margie Gillis with half of her hair sticking out the top of her hat
* The tap-dancing priest who made a Don Music-esque attempt to assemble a plastic skeleton onstage
Or:
* The marionette. Yeah, you heard me. Marionette. That's not all: it was also implicated in a homoerotic threesome onstage with two hunky dancers.
It was nice to revisit The Old Days, though. I did dance workshops with Bill and Laurence when I was with Peterborough New Dance. When I worked with them, Bill was magnetic and gentlemanly, and Laurence was shy and nonthreatening, like a doe. It's great to see them working as a company, and doing strange things on a Saturday night at Place Des Arts.
Margie was beyond luminous. She spent the last number whipping her hair back and forth and grinning; moving in a dance that was as natural as the rustling of leaves when the wind blows. Her every motion is graceful like woodsmoke. It is completely harmonious with the movement of the molecules of the cosmos around her.
* A bare-breasted Laurence Lemieux (Bill's wife, btw), completely covered in blue body paint, depicting Krishna
* The sublime Margie Gillis with half of her hair sticking out the top of her hat
* The tap-dancing priest who made a Don Music-esque attempt to assemble a plastic skeleton onstage
Or:
* The marionette. Yeah, you heard me. Marionette. That's not all: it was also implicated in a homoerotic threesome onstage with two hunky dancers.
It was nice to revisit The Old Days, though. I did dance workshops with Bill and Laurence when I was with Peterborough New Dance. When I worked with them, Bill was magnetic and gentlemanly, and Laurence was shy and nonthreatening, like a doe. It's great to see them working as a company, and doing strange things on a Saturday night at Place Des Arts.
Margie was beyond luminous. She spent the last number whipping her hair back and forth and grinning; moving in a dance that was as natural as the rustling of leaves when the wind blows. Her every motion is graceful like woodsmoke. It is completely harmonious with the movement of the molecules of the cosmos around her.