It was an experience I’ve never had.
I entered a room which was totally dark. Perhaps it was the loss of sight that emphasized the sound I heard. Some heavy breathes hovered around the room. I could also hear the sound of fists beating on bodies and the sound of feet stepping on the ground. I knew there were some “creatures” moving in the dark. The feeling reminded me of a quote of Genesis, which I just read. “And the earth then was welter and waste and darkness over the deep and God’s breath hovering over the waters.” It was at that moment that I understood how much I relied on seeing to perceive the world. When I was deprived of sight, it felt like the world shut down in front of me. The information I got from other senses did not ease my upset but actually strengthened it. It seemed to me that without images the only thing left was just chaos.
I was afraid. I had no choice but to keep walking into deeper space of the room. Suddenly I bumped into something that was shaking and making some “ahhh” sound. It did not adjust its place or even react to my touch. I sat down on the ground, adhering to the wall and waiting for what would happen. At that moment, I had no idea about how the story would extend.
Then, as the light turned up, some silhouettes appeared. Gradually they became clear and the dancers appeared. They were all in white and moved in the same way. I couldn’t understand what they were expressing. The only thing left for me to do was to watch. The background music was special. I wouldn’t actually call it music. For me, it was more like the sound of nature. It sounded like the wind and the rain were actually happening out there. The light went off again. The sound of breathing rose again. I felt my breath accorded with theirs, and then I fell asleep.
When I opened my eyes again, the light was on and the dancers were tangling with a whole bunch of white clothes at the corner of the room. For one second I doubted if I was in a dream. The scene in front of me was surreal but tempting. I sat near them. As the dancers were trying to disentangle from the clothes, a leg stretched into the air in front of me. The concept of “un-naming things” I’ve just read in class struck me at once. For me, the leg no longer appeared as a leg, but something independent, something that was stretching with its own will. It was a new perspective. The dance has always been providing me with perspectives that helped me break away from my previous assumptions.
Although I still don’t quite get what the dance wanted to express, I enjoyed it by experiencing it with different perspectives or in different ways. I breathed to the same rhythm with the dancers. I mimicked their movements. I slept during the dance. It was more like a two-hour dream. In the very beginning of the dance, I asked myself “can a dance be a dance when it cannot be seen?” In the following two hours, the dance kept stripping away my assumptions about what a dance should be. By not providing any context or clues, the dance inspired me to come up with my own understanding.
Amber Zhang
Latest posts by Amber Zhang (see all)
- THE FELT ROOM - February 24, 2017