Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

When I first stepped into the Felt Room, I had to become at ease with myself, which happens in the dark. I had to remember the feeling of my own body as my blindness forced my attention inward.

Then the dance began, and it was less about feeling than the anticipation of feeling. It was about what I knew, what I thought I knew, what I expected, and whether those expectations were met. I could hear the dancers’ breath, and the sounds ran up my arms and around my neck, waiting for touch. Flashes of light revealed their bodies, and the continual return to darkness, just as I was on the verge of adjusting, kept me continually sightless.

Eventually, the dancers did move toward me, rubbing against my leg and brushing my shoulder. But once the touch came, I felt more at ease. It was about this time that the light in the room came on and unveiled the dancers completely. Their movements were slow, which allowed me to adjust my own perceptions as they gathered in one line. It was not so much moving as shifting, at this point. They shifted imperceptibly, the slight movement getting passed down the line.

The beginning of the dance was all about breath and its release. The second part was about pauses and suspension. After a few minutes of this, the lights went back out, and in this return of blackness, I slipped out.