Description |
Mountains Never Meet. And they never did They wouldn't know what to say to each other. Dancers can't walk, according to a widespread prejudice. At east not like 'real people', the Argument goes. You will always be able to tell their dancer's... But is it really necessary for dancers to know how to walkone might ask. After all, their training enables them to move in much more complex and refined ways than those who excel in a non-dancerly manner... The point of departure for this work was to investigate the difference between walking and dancing and if, in fact, it was as monumental as often perceived. Merce Cunningham once remarked: "Dance is movement in time and space." If this definition were valid, would it also include walking? The choreographic approach to making this work was to predominately investigate, very much along the lines of "What if?" What if we reduce the movement material to walking and its physical cousins standing, lying, skipping, running and jumping on the spot? What if, at the same time, we apply some of the time and space-related devices frequently associated with choreographic practise - change of direction, speed and levels? By simplifying the movement material yet retaining a maximum level of complexity in relation to time and speed, Mountains Never Meet has become an exploration of how the simplest of rules can produce infinitely complicated results. Juxtaposing order and disorder, clarity and randomness, it hints at a darker, more absurd reality of human existence - the futility of striving for clarity and meaning in a world that offers neither. Each dancer has their own individual pathway through this piece. They move independently from each another but are constantly intersecting. They are alone together and together alone, always active, curious and defiant. |
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