There is a moment in your choreography where I have you on a stage, by yourself, draped in linen white cloth, wrapped all around your body (You have such pale white skin that if we were to bathe the stage in soft white light, with a hint of blue, it would almost appear as if you were underwater, I'd think) The cloth would not only be wrapped around your body as if you stepped out of the Roman era, but be falling from your arms, and draped upon the stage, as if you were wearing the largest wedding dress I'd ever seen, and it would be all over the stage. The idea that I've had for you is of a sheathing - of a letting go. Of you in constant motion, ripping away at the fabric, or in a further dynamic motion, trying to free yourself from it. The whole idea behind it is of you letting go, because I'm starting to understand that the most difficult thing for you to do, Maddy, is to let go. It's difficult for you to trust in anyone or anything to have a reason to actually let go of things, and you've held on to them for such a long time, the white fabric wrapped around your body might as well represent chains. You're chained to your memories and to your hurt, and it's the very thing you must wrap yourself in when you sleep at night (I'm amazed that you don't cry yourself to sleep more often, and I don't doubt that you have done so more than a few times the last while) You have had no reason to let go. You've been given no level of trust or no offering without an expectation in return, and you haven't had a taste of selflessness in your mouth ever, it seems like. Men focus so much on kissing you on the mouth (or perhaps one or two may) that they never actually think of giving you something else aside from their sex. You are a dancer who I've seen who has been so weightless so many a time, and yet you are still bound to this earth, and I wonder what you would truly be like if you were free of all of this pain, Maddy. If all great art is rooted in pain, then you have a lifetime of wild, beautiful dance to offer us, but shouldn't the exploration of that pain be from a place of joy? Don't you deserve it, to just not have to deal with so much hell anymore, and just genuinely be able to smile and laugh without thinking about the next thing that will go wrong, or how your body may need fifteen less pounds (You know I think you're beautiful, but I get that feeling) I wonder what kind of dancer you would be, if you were happy. How wild of a form you would have, even in the exploration of the darkest parts of our nature, because I know that like that fabric, you'd leave it all on stage, and not carry it with you, home (And home itself is so much of a hell, I wonder how it is that you sleep at night)
Your choreography is of letting go, you know. We have to find a way to help you let go. That is our challenge.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
There's a dancer I know in Toronto, who's far too beautiful, to be in so much pain (Though she would tell you otherwise, perhaps) I remember a girl I knew who when I went to her defense over a guy who was threatening her, and stood up to him, she called me her 'stalwart sentinel' (which still brings a smile to my face every single time I think of her saying that to me, before a kiss) Maddy, I think, is like that. Too tough, though. Too strong. Heartbreakingly so, I would say. Too much of pain in that one, with a heart with an infinite capacity for love, and somehow I think the more bruising it would take, the more she would dare to love, as much as she would dare in dance. I'd show you a photograph of her, but you'd fall in love with her beauty too easily, and I think she'd prefer the anonymity of things, though the reality is, she inspires more ideas for choreography for me to keep up with - that I have so many ideas I have to document, not one single one has become a coherent piece (Though one, finally, is starting to take shape, and I think she's going to love it) Maddy underestimates the way she moves, or the beauty of her body (doesn't every single dancer?) I on the other hand, see one wildly beautiful girl, with so much soul, and so much genuine compassion and feeling and depth and desire, and most of that desire is unrequited. The guys in her life invariably let her down, or can't keep up, or don't match up (and this is all opinion - I'm sure she'll contradict some, if not all of these statements, and that's fine) As a result, she feels so alone. It kills me how alone she is, because it reminds me of who I've been, and what I am afraid of letting myself feel, and that is alone. She reminds me too much of myself, and what I've been, and who I may still be. There is also so much poetry in her longing, it's inspiring. She's one of the few individuals who genuinely inspires me at the moment, and I wanted to tell her that in a public place, because I know people read this blog - the people I know do - so it matters. Because I have every intention of finding a choreography that makes this girl shine, and I wanted to let her know that - that a man can believe in her, and her abilities, and her soul, without expectations. That compassion and feeling from one individual - from a man - is possible, and that I hope she still has faith, and belief in love, and doesn't become jaded like me (as I've been, and I'm trying not to be, really) Tonight, on this night where I got a lot done, the last thing I wish to say of the day, is that it matters.
It matters to me, Maddy.
It matters to me, Maddy.