It may be absurd to write about dance (and especially contemporary dance), for it is best experienced and felt, rather than described. Therefore, I write this to encourage you to wrangle with the questions I see asked, answered, and asked again, through the human body. Of course, if you are in the Pacific Northwest, this is a specific plug, but I hope others will find dancers and choreographers (and/or other artists) in their own local area to support the art and to support your spiritual growth.
This weekend I will experience Whim WH’im, a contemporary dance company, starting with Olivier Weaver—the beloved artistic director--very emotional and vulnerable piece (per everything I have read and heard) and I believe you will simply be intrigued by the title: A Disagreeable Tale of Duplicity. So while I encourage people to be more vulnerable, here will be twenty minutes of vulnerability in public, where we as the viewer can add our own layers of story.
With Annabelle Lopez Ochoa’s Delicious Pesticides, the audience will get to revisit Pulp Fiction, where I hear the absurdity of violence will be explored (such as it was in the film). To help with this, some of the movements are based off of the movements of insects as Annabelle shares with Victoria Farr Brown at the Whim W’Him Blog, “Insects don’t have an ego, […t]hey work together like one organism.” Now are you intrigued, at an exploration of culture and violence, where we may be acting as one organism? This is only the conversation prior to these performances.
You may be into painters, playwrights, or filmmakers; for me, the idea an artist can convey a message (not just a story) without words is very special to me, as language is a struggle for my son, and even before him I had been drawn to this language, because it touches me in a way I can’t describe, which is of course apropos.
Parents read a child’s body language, but my personal experience of having a child with communication delay has made this language of movement so essential. From our parental hands being thrust towards a wanted cookie, to him saying, “I want cookie, plzzzz” we have appreciated this very slow dance and have learned communication can be clear without words. We draw him into this world of language, with the appreciation of his own movements.
So while I can get up in front of a room and discuss and explain complex theologies, and explore these thought-provoking questions in essays, can I, like my son, delve into the inner emotions of humanity without words?
The choreographers and dancers engage us to do just that, and I encourage you to not sit this one out (be it here in Seattle or in your area), for someone is dancing.
And yes we do slow down for some paintings, too!