The Object
In dance it’s now WHAT you do on the stage (frequently), but how you do it. I’m still really struggling with this.
I train in ballet. But I didn’t grow up doing it, and I don’t have very open hips. So while – now years in – I can find certain shapes, create certain images, I have a very hard time doing things consistently balletically. Ballet is motion, but it’s also a way of doing the motion. A way of connecting the motions.
When I founded Day Eight I wrote a number of pieces and put them in a press packet. I had great dreams of Day Eight becoming my job sort of instantly, and made a press packet thinking I’d need it. I only ever produced two of em, and one is still in my filing cabinet. The following is from that packet. Another piece, which maybe I’ll post another time, goes more fully into how I think one pursues the object of dance.
The Object of Day Eight
Being a dancer, or even attending a performance, invites an encounter with two meanings of the word “object”. A performer becomes an object on stage, and in order to become an object worthy of the honor of the stage, a performer must know what the object – the purpose – of the dance is.
It has been said that the successful dancer makes the audience fall in love with him. This brings to mind Kade Bambes statement that “the role of the revolutionary artist is to make revolution irresistible.” In fact, the requirement of the working dancer is to be irresistible. For dancers, irresistibility draws from physical achievement.
Erick Hawkins wrote that “dance is, can, and should be a way of saying now.” As dancers we train so that we may make the most of each moment. In dance we have only that instant – on stage. All performance is this way, be it acting Shakespeare or playing in the National Football League. We have one moment, and we work the best way we know how so that we may exist in an enchanted, full way in that moment.
What entrances an audience is the striking, the extraordinary. There is an undeniable connection between pure, full existence in the moment, and extraordinary action. I think of those stories of people lifting buses off of crushed pedestrians. As dancers it is our job to lift buses off of pedestrians every day. To do this, and not to eventually crush yourself with the bus, we must work every day. Forging the body and mind into an instrument that controls the horizon-line of each moment is a heroic act in itself. I believe it is the craft of the moment which enables the work that in turn creates the stage.
The object of the dance is thus: now. Now. Now. And then again tomorrow: Now.
This is one of the many connections between the field of dance and the object of Day Eight.
copyright Robert Bettmann, 2005
I found this image on the internet, and it’s been sitting on my desktop for a few months. I can’t remember where I grabbed it, but thought it was an arresting image. One of the glories and tragedies of live, moving, art is that captured images are frequently completely divorced from any meaning that might exist in motion. I’ve seen terrible pictures from great dances, and great images from meaningless dances. And, as in this case, great images from non-existent dances.



