Dancing Queen
Over the weekend, I had to opportunity to experience dance for the first time. It was pretty interesting.. There has always been a small inkling that a lot of dancers are a little too.. self concerned? I’m not sure how to say this kindly, but the dancers I have met have a “holier than thou” attitude. I won’t argue that dance is less of an art than painting, but I will say that it must be perceived in a different light. Being an aesthetic person, I find beauty in form and movement through rhythm etc. etc. Ballet is good for that; You get to watch things spin and it tells a cute story, just like the television. Modern dance, however, seems to include fits of psychotic convulsions in the performances. This is something I don’t understand. “Open your hearts. Don’t try to analyze these pieces, but rather let them sink in. Try to feel the performance.” Well where do I find myself when the dance turns into a social commentary? That’s right. Analyzing. If someone is dancing to musique concrete, it’s no longer dancing. The dance world is a bit too pompous for me. It’s all in the same vane as free-form poetry. If you have ever gone to a reading, you can relate. It’s just a step up from the quiet ramblings of a coke fiend. Post-Modern dance and performance art is a step under epileptic seizures. The dance world is full of art wanks who can only whiff their own flatulence. Luckily, the dancer that Colleen and I ventured to see felt the same of modern dance. “It’s not dancing, it’s performance art.” Amen. And God bless her too. We have some fucking standards.