Memories of 50 Chairs, and Other Intimate Spaces
Why not up close and personal? Why not a special show, every now and then, when we could get to watch one or two Ailey marvels dancing something small and intimate in a setting where we might actually be able to track the thoughts crossing their brows, the nerve synapses firing in their muscles, the divine flow of their breathing?” This quote by Eva Yaa Asantewaa got my brain working today.
She was talking about the unfortunate necessity of dance companies such as Alvin Ailey to book large venues to get huge audiences in – to then see the tiny ants on the stage. It limits choreographers, it limits audiences’ ability to appreciate the dance, and it limits the number of performances due to the cost of actually dealing with the sizeable venues.
Alternative Spaces, Alternative Audiences
A few years ago I was a part of a performance called “50 Chairs” by dancer/ choreographer Jin-Wen Yu. He has always been something of an unusual choreographer (I’ll never forget the ethical dilemma of whether the goldfish he was dancing in the tank with could really consent to participate) but for this particular evening he had a fun idea: To sell 100 tickets to the performance (in the Spotlight room of the Madison Civic Center) but only provide 50 seats.
Where would the rest sit? Well, that’s their problem! Actually, we did seed each audience with a few people who knew that the floor, the walls, the rest of the room was available. Only a few brave souls (myself included) actually sat on the floor as the dancers moved around – and oh, what a magical experience it was.
Intimate Arts
I could see the folds and texture of the costumes. I could see the flex of foot as it hit the floorboards, sometimes next to me, I could hear the sound of the panting breath as the dancers moved around and beyond me. I was also a part of the performance, and so I got to feel the heightened tension as I juggled close by the audience members, twirling flags in a purple light.
Most of all, what I remember was the eyes. Both in the performers and the audience, there was a heightened awareness of the space we were in, of the fact that we were a limited run, an ephemeral quality, and that this performance would not be known by many – but would be more appreciated by the few who were there.
That, in my view, is the benefit of the intimate spaces. More than just the increased richness of the experience – it is the creation of a magical space, hearkening back to the first social storytellers in the firelight.
What are your favorite up-close performances? A friend of mine who reads this blog got a chanceto see Suzanne Vega in the same space…but I can’t think of many more that I’ve been privy to.
Image Courtesy of Newscom
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