<snip>
Like modern dance. The metaphoric art of it rivals
poetry.
<snip>
To my mind one of the joys of much dance is its absolute exclusion or
excision of what is metaphoric, its creation of experience that is un- glued
up by language and/or thought, where the butterfly isn't yet in and indeed
may _never_ be in that particular killing jar after all.
In the early 80s Jan Fabre's company gave performances whose _theatrical_
movement was likewise unmetaphoric: becoming physically exhausted meant
taking up the amount of audience time that process actually needed for
example, say half an hour or so of running on the spot. Limited, obviously,
but useful in its context and at that time. Richard Maxwell's more recent
de-gesturings of dialogue and movement seem to me further expeditions in a
terrain that may be slightly similar.
Of course, what one absolutely doesn't want is more and better television.
CW
_______________________________________________
Dozens have gone missing, the decision taken is Elsewhere.
but yes, yes we remain as poetry, pure immateriality.
in the name of the 'current state of things' they murmur to us:
"we went for a stroll, now it's a question of marching!" But this
stroll of ours has brought us a long way off, and now
the horizon is behind us.
(from *Materiali*, Indiani Metropolitani 1977)
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