Pre-performance.

The only thing that reads seems to be desire; how much you want something and the way you interact with that desire, how you temper it, how it tempers you. Desire makes you move across space.

Dance is the balance of opposition – pulling from both ends, the dynamic play between falling and flight, between desire and the release of that desire. It is filling the emptiness of the body with emotion pouring in from inside and outside. It is beauty descending from sky and ascending from earth to meet in the finite body of the depraved human form transformed into sublime loveliness. To move is to inhabit opposition, to be pulled apart by conflicting forces stretching the lengths and limits of the body into kinetic stillness.

The act of performance is the miracle of rendering the imaginary into the real. See someone. Reach for him. Touch him. Trace his outline with your blunt fingertips until you taste the shape of his sadness inside your bones. It must be real, as real as a cup of coffee sitting fragrant, waiting for you at the corners of the room, perched precariously on a ceiling light, behind the last person sitting in the audience.

Be fearless. Step into the unknown, armed with only the inner light of the imagination. Wield images like a weapon to break into the encroaching darkness outside your silhouette.

Performing is like moving with your eyes closed, moving by sensory awareness of the tactility of sound, the weight of the body pressing through space, the floor beneath your feet, sensing heat, light and shadow, and the wind that peels away from your spinning body.

What medium are you moving through? Sometimes it is honey or oatmeal or the salty wave-ridden sea. Sometimes it is the gossamer fabric of dreams or sunset’s scarlet light. Each time it will be different but reminiscent of the last time or the time before and sometimes the time after.