Move, Moving, Moved

At one time in life, fate may require a person to endure or sit through a live dance performance. While making that choice was still an option, witnessing a production put on by one of the best troupes on the planet wasn’t such a bad idea. If they are ever close by again, I would be a fool not to see what they are up to. 

Nederlands Dans Theater

 Optional: see 0:23 & 1:12 till whenever

 

NDT II Jiri kylian 27'52" 

Optional: for anyone with for minutes of space-out time

(just 'cause it's a little wicked near the end)

Now, for what's important:

“Got to have that feeling that you’ve got something to say that’s yours. I’m not a great intellectual, I’m a doer.”

“The key, [Lightfoot] says, is constantly drawing inspiration from all experiences and being free to create without boundaries.”

“It’s very important that if we are going to say something, we are going to say it our way. It will be recognizable within the structure…”

 

(Should anyone so choose to watch the video at the bottom, 

the quotes come up in an interview that starts at 3:35)

To suggest that watching dance on screen, the big silver one or any of the little ones... to suggest that watching dance on the screens comes anywhere close to the real thing would be a total 'fail'. 

The interview, for whoever wants it, is here.

Somehow feeling like he needed more than what was readily available, he started to look around. Just by chance, he looked to see what was playing on the stage and it turned out to blow his mind in a reassuring way. That was a while ago, before the domestic cycles more or less put the kid in a trance. In kind of a trance, like maybe 70% of the house was that night, at home, in front of a box or drinking from a carton of blended spirits instead of enjoying what was right there.

Well, now he's waking up. Not too sure how it happened to be honest with you. Not that that is important anyway. He's ready to quit trying to reach for that light... he's ready to release and follow those bubbles. 

The dancers are kind of like beacons or markers. Once upon a time, one let him hold her body, caressing in ecstasy, his face buried between her hips. Not really caring if he ever came up.