I saw a scintillating Russian contemporary dance performance directed by Tatiana Baganova, yesterday.
Though the dance moves lacked a certain finish, sharpness and symmetry (in the group sequences), the drama and lighting, the waxing and waning of sound intensity and the sheer, brute energy of the performance, transported us into a quirky, fluid, experimental world (typical of contemporary dance) .
Some of the concepts required props like balloons, sand (or was it powder?), air bubbles (resembling crystal paper weights with falling snow) and chopsticks. The lighting used bold hues of blue and red.
At one point the back of the stage was lit a ruby red, and as the dancers swooped and twirled and writhed with agility with the wall as a backdrop, it felt as if we were gazing down from a height and the wall was a floor. During another sequence, the dancers spilled powders across the length of the stage, their movements akin to wheat being separated from the chaff. And as it lay there, the red light played tricks on our eyes, painting a beautiful picture, that of sand dunes in the desert.
Post, this we went for dinner to Da Vinci, where I ate garlic bread and mashed potato (yes, I shall rot in carb hell).
On a different note, I have quite a few friends who are grappling with words, the right ones, to express their truth to those they love. It’s hard and torturous, and there are moments where they feel horribly torn, between telling the truth and stalling it, and then pondering over how to couch it, so as to reduce the pain this truth shall inevitably bring to those they love.
But I agree with the words of a wise man: The truth will set you free.
