Walking into the The Felt Room was an unnerving experience. As a person who has had severe vision problems for most of their life, dark rooms awaken in me the fear of blindness. This fear alongside my efforts not to collide with dancers or other guests led to a strained crawl of a lap around the exhibit, groping the wall for support while inching forward into the unknown.

Within a few minutes the initial fear dissipated as my eyes adjusted to the dim light, other guests were visible at times due to the light pollution from the imperfectly closed exits. Once I could stop my movement and comfortably observe my surroundings I became cognizant of the swirling cacophony of sound emanating from the center of the room. Varying breaths filled the room with sound ranging from short, rattling gasps to billowing exhalations that mimicked the wind. This exercise in breath created an interesting auditory experience within the room, as I was forced to imagine the movements behind each sound.

Rare moments of visibility enabled brief glimpses of the dancers. Their lithe forms twisted as they moved through the center of the room, alternating between standing and moving on the floor. At times the twisting movements combined with the breath made the dancers seem like serpents or grass in a tornado. As I could only make out the forms of dancers when they ventured close enough to the dimly lit exit areas, my visual experience was subservient to the tactile and auditory journey.

My experience in The Felt Room was divergent from what I expect when going into a dance performance. I generally expect a visual symphony of movement, with sound subservient to the viewing of the dance. This exhibition shattered those expectations, and by doing so it allowed me to appreciate the myriad ways one can use dance to create art. Although I could not see the majority of the dancing within The Felt Room, the sounds and experience of moving through the space aroused powerful emotions and ideas within my mind. The lack of visibility was more than made up for by an auditory experience par excellence.

Name: Olivia He

Class: Cultures of Dance

Initially, The Felt Room was kind of scary for me. As a person who watches too many thrillers and zombie movies, I felt as if I walked into a scene in one of the films that I watched. The room was extremely dark. I could barely see anything even after my eyes adjusted to the darkness. As other audience entered the room, a flash of light went through the curtain and lit up the space for a second, revealing a room of dancers in white without any redundant accessories. They all stood in weird poses, with twisted arms or tilted head. With everyone seated against the wall, I was not able to see anything again but could hear the dancers breathing. Their breaths were heavy, short, and intertwined with low groans. Listening to the dancers’ breath and the occasional cough made by one of the audience reminded me of how visually-biased I was in my life. I read books and papers, watch films, look ahead of the road to avoid stepping on black ice every day. I relied on vision for information so much that I could not recall any occasion when I employed my other senses as a primary source of information other listening to professors’ lectures in class.

After a few minutes, I convinced myself that I was not in a scene from one of the thrillers I watched and felt calm. The heavy breathing of dancers continued. It sounds like they began moving around the room. It seemed that they were not walking but crawling around the room, but I was not sure because I could not see. I confirmed my suspicion after a few dancers passed by me and touched my feet. When they were close to me, I was able to see the outlines of their body. It looked like they were on their backs. Even when I could barely see anything, I still relied on vision to know the surroundings. I confirmed my suspicion when the lights were on. The dancers indeed were not on their feet. They lay on their backs or bellies or sat on their knees, using their hands to gain momentum and move around. That explained the squeaking sound in the dark. The dancers stood up with tilted heads and twisted backs, as if their spine could not support their body and their heads were too heavy for their necks.  They remained unmoved for a minute or two before softly waving their arms and moving their body. Their movements were gentle and free, as if the air in the room were water and they were fish swimming in the sea.

Two dancers began to touch and cross arms with each other. Another dancer joined them, and then another. Ultimately all dancers clustered in the middle of the room, hugging and crossing arms with each other. It seemed that they wanted to get closer and break free of each other at the same time. Although their body were engaged in an ambiguous process, their faces remain emotionless and calm. The cluster eventually dismantled and the dancers dissipated to different parts of the room. It went dark again after they stood motionless for a minute or two.

I have an impression that the dancers were imitating animals in parts of the performance but I am not able to make any interpretation beyond that. The Felt Room reminds me of how biased I am towards vision and how little I explored my other senses. Even in an environment when I could not see anything, I still resort to vision for information. A good reason to “see” The Felt Room is that it gives you a chance to understand the surroundings with other senses. If you are not as overwhelmed as I am, you might even venture to interact with the dancers in the dark.

The Felt Room performance was very unique in the sense that it did not command for your attention, only your presence. The ability to see the dancers is removed so one must feel or sense the performance some other way. It was very interesting for me to realize that I could actually feel performers and spectators near me simply through spacial awareness. From this connection to the air around me I could visualize the movement of the performers and piece together in my mind what I the performance would have looked like which was a fun exercise.

I also appreciated some of the effects and rules that accompanied the performance. You were able to come and go as you pleased which made the environment very free flowing. The lights would also flicker for just a small amount of time to tease the eyesight just to leave it begging for a few more seconds. In the absence of light, I was actually touched a few times which weirded me out a little. But it was called Felt Room, what did I expect.

Going into the experience of “The Felt Room” I was a little nervous. Other people in my class had gone to the performance and said that it was slightly overwhelming and that the beginning was hard to get through because it was so dark that it simulated blindness. Although I was slightly nervous, I was sure that it would be okay because I’m not super afraid of the dark and it was dance so how scary could it be? Walking into the space, I was disoriented because it was so dark, and I started to get more nervous that I thought I would be because I don’t like not knowing or being able to guess what is around me. When people started to touch me, I was not sure how to react. I have been around dance all my life, but all the performances I had experience had been of the traditional sort where the audience sits at a distance and watches. This new situation brought up many mental struggles for me:

1. I wasn’t sure what proper protocol was. Do I move away to let them move more freely? Do I interact with them? Do I just keep standing there against the wall and let them use me then move on?

2. I didn’t know who these people were and I did not know what parts of them were touching me. That made me super uncomfortable, but again, I did not know if it would affect the piece if I moved.

3. The visceral sounds that were going on made me think that the piece was simulating people that were almost dying of cold, thirst, hunger, or any number of other things. When the dancers touched me, part of me felt like touching them back would be nice because they were in some way struggling and there is comforting power to touch. But again, I was uncomfortable and not sure what to do.

I ended up just standing against the wall the whole time. At some points I tried to press myself as far into the wall as possible. I was uncomfortable in the situation, but I felt almost trapped because it was so dark, I wasn’t sure who or what was around me, so I didn’t want to move because I didn’t know how hard or easy it would be to get to an exit. My little space on the wall became scary and comforting at the same time.

Once the lights came up, I felt a lot more comfortable in the space, and I sat down for a little while. There was not a whole lot to take in in terms of movement that was going on, but it was interesting to be able to really concentrate on the small movements that were happening. The slow, smooth, minuscule movements of the arms, and head along with the rolling of the torso made complex movements simple through the manipulation of time. I personally really enjoyed watching the shadows that showed up on the walls and trying to pick out which parts of them belonged to which dancers and how they changed as the dancers moved. While I enjoyed the parts of the piece that were in the light, when the lights turned off again, I left. I felt the discomfort with the dark situations coming back and I felt like I had pushed my comfort boundaries enough for one day.

I think that this performance would be good for people who are trying to overcome their need for control. The combination of the darkness and the novelty of the experience makes people confront their fears about not being in control of the situation they are in. This is mostly because at the beginning you can’t see what is going on and there are people moving around you. You can’t purposely put yourself in an interaction with one of the dancers and you can’t avoid the situation either. You just have react as a dancer does or does not touch you. Overall, the piece can be seen as an exercise in getting comfortable in situations that are unfamiliar and not able to be manipulated by some of the participants.

-Kelsey Sullivan, Cultures of Dance

When I attended The Felt Room, I was at first startled by the sudden lack of light. I had no sense of were I was in the room, or how big the room really was, and it took a while for my eyes to adjust. During this time, the breathing score that we talked about in class came into effect and I could hear the dancers breathing in/out of unison and through the sound I was surprised as to how well I could sense where people were in the space. One dancer came and stood next to me for awhile with their back to the wall and since I couldn’t see them, I just listened to their breath patterns.

As vague silhouettes came into view I began to feel more comfortable moving around the room, and I tried to vary my position to get different perspectives on the dancers. Moving from the wall to the center of the floor created a feeling of immersion and I enjoyed being so close to the dancers. When the section of darkness was over, the lights seemed overly bright, my eyes needing to adjust quickly. I didn’t quite like the lighter sections as much as the dark but I loved being able to see the dancers after sensing their presence for a while.

The most memorable moment from my time in The Felt Room was when a dancer took my left arm and began to manipulate it. Keeping my arm limp, I watched her hang my arm first by my thumb, and then letting it go and catching it by my wrist. She also brought my arm up above my head and let it fall back down into her grasp.

When the performance was through, I felt extremely relaxed and did not want to leave. The ambient music and the softer lighting created an atmosphere of self-reflection, observance of your fellow audience members, as well as reflection on the two hours in The Felt Room.

~ Margaret Anne Puzak The Body as a Choreographer

Upon walking into the Felt Room, a wave of confusion and disorientation washed over me. In the pitch black darkness, I found myself nervous and unsure of what to do. I walked into the center of the room and stood there. I could see nothing, but slowly began to hear breathing and movement. My disorientation began to fade as my eye sight adjusted to the darkness and I could make out shapes of other bodies. I watched and felt them move around me. This disorientation continued to fade when lights started to pulse and slowly light up the room.

The movement in the dance was very spacial. Not only did the dancers move around the entire room, they also moved in high and low spaces. Sometimes the dancers danced in their own space, other times they came into the audience’s or another dancer’s space. It appeared as though there was  contact improvisation with both the dancers and the audience.

I think people should experience the felt room because it offers a new way of experiencing dance. The absence of sight heightens other senses, creating an interesting perception of the dance.  Additionally, the audience is able to participate (if they want), which is also very unique. I encourage those who attend to stay for a while because the dance transforms as time goes on, and thus so does the audience’s experience.

-Chloe Rouhandeh, Cultures of Dance 115

I’ve been to the Felt Room twice. I went on opening night and listened to the talk and was highly confused by what was going to happen. I went in with a best friend and we were extremely terrified by all of the breathing sounds. We stayed for 5 minutes, holding hands the entire time, making distressed faces to each other that neither of us could see. Our eyes never got a chance to adjust, either, so we relied on the rare flash of light to tell us who was in the room.

The second time was better. We went in and decided we would stay for much longer. We also didn’t stand right by the curtain, but rather went straight to a far corner of the room. There we sat down and began our experience. It was possible to see a little this time since the very small amount of light from behind the curtains gave the dancers outlines. As we sat, steadily they began to migrate towards us. One stopped above my friend and grabbed the wall and shook violently while quickly breathing. For a while, I equated the dancers to creatures from a horror movie that won’t see you if you keep still. But after a while, I realized I was safe in there.

My favorite thing about the Felt Room was some of the subtle things I noticed as I watched. I liked the fact that whether I was there or not, the dancers would still be dancing. I could move, I could stand, I could sit, I could experience it however I wanted to. I could also leave, and I did eventually leave without watching the entire performance. Another thing I liked about it was the anonymity of the dancers in the darkness. I couldn’t tell who they were unless they got very close, which did happen. Only when they started wiggling on the floor and came right up to me and pushed off of my legs could I recognize my dancer friends. Then as they wiggled away, they melted back into the darkness. It reminded me of an old painting where all of the characters in the painting were completely unknown to me. Eventually, the lights steadily began to come on as the dancers moved to the center of the room and moved as a group. To be honest, I didn’t like the light part as much as the darker part. I preferred the mystery. I did leave during this part since I had somewhere to be, so I didn’t get to stick around for later dark parts, unfortunately.

One of my favorite moments of my second time there was when I noticed there was one audience member in the corner of the room and four or five dancers wiggled over to the corner he was in and writhed against his legs. He only moved until they had been there for at least a full two minutes. It was pretty hilarious.

Ben Clark

A child was born; the story was told in black and white.

Narrators succumbed to their vision with blind eyes,

Their sharp breaths filled the voids in the darkness,

They were breathless and quiet, restless and calm.

I lied amidst the chaos and peace,

Feeling energies from perspired beings

Hearing the storytellers drag their bodies from one spot to another.

(The uninvited light -from a curtain often drawn between the story -was menacing)

Dancing tellers of the tale found their way to the fabric of my skin,

They twisted and slithered and elevated on the ground,

Enter Color.

Against the wall sat many other curious people like me,

They too were listening to the story with their emotions and feelings

And they too, seemed unhindered by the sudden appearance of color

“What is light when the bodies just performed in the dark?” I thought,

and let my eyes wander on the crevices from the movements in white clothings.

Light, however, took us to another level of insight

It brought more synchrony and time dilation.

The clothed storytellers reflected myriad emotion with different lightings

They moved more gracefully than they did in the stygian blackness.

An entity seemed to flow from one body to another

Leaving them pleasantly frozen or in angelic motion.

Music of silence played in the background

While the bodies – gently but deliberately – contacted and flowed.

Sustained energy continued to ooze in the room

and into us curious lot…

Enter Darkness.

The Horror of Dark

When I first walked into the Felt Room, I had no idea what was going on. It was pitch-black except for the this stream of light that kept pouring in each time a new audience member joined in. Within the couple of seconds of sight, I saw people dressed in white and black, unsure which was audience and which was performer. I was terrified, seeing brief flashes of humans-like forms shaking and breathing heavily reminded me of a scene straight out of “I Am Legend”. I was scared to move, feel or even breath. I could hear my pulse raise and my adrenaline flow. The whole time I was thinking to myself, “Don’t move and they won’t hear you. Oh please please please don’t touch me.” So I lied down in a corner on top of what I could only imagine was a pile of sheets and hugged myself tight. I thought I would be safer on the ground. But then the breathing stops and the lights flash and all the white forms are slithering on the ground. Becoming even more unattached from their human form, the performers crawled and swirled around. My eyes, becoming accustomed to the dark, started to see the shapes and shades, reassuring me these people were in fact people. My heart slowed down from its quickened pace and I started to relax and enjoy the show. Once the lights came on the whole thing became easier to watch and was very beautiful. The way the dancers moved with each other and timed each move to the other’s step. But there was something about the darkness that really grabbed me, enchanted me, horrified me and I find that great. I didn’t know what to expect out of this experience but was glad I went.

I went to the Felt Room on the first day that it was open (this past weekend). I didn’t really know what I was expecting. We walked in through a curtain and the entire room was pitch black. I was with my good friend and held her hand the entire time because I am not very fond of not being able to see anything. As we were walking into the room, I felt another human body touch my right leg and it kind of freaked me out and so I made some noise. I was told to stay quiet for the rest of the experience. But as we made our way through the room, I could hear people (not sure if it was the dancers or the participants) slide across the walls in the room. I could hear people sliding across floors too. I had to rely on my auditory senses because I couldn’t uses any of my other senses. There wasn’t any distinct smell. I think the coolest part about the room was that I couldn’t tell how many people were in the room or even how big the room was because it was pitch black. I had to rely on my sense of spacial judgement to figure out whether or not I was going in circles or if I was going to run into some walls that I had already run into. It was a unique experience and I might attend the performance again in the next coming weeks.