merce cunningham & modern dance
Two weeks ago I went with my music hum class to see the Merce Cunningham memorial at the Park Avenue Armory. Apparently Daniel is passionate about "the visual" as well as "the sonic," and apparently there's this famous man in dance circles named Merce Cunningham, and apparently he died this past July, and apparently I am the biggest ignoramus when it comes to modern dance.
We took our pleasant time taking the bus there because Daniel envisioned taking the bus---not the subway---as part of the complete experience. Once we got there, we proceeded to wander between three un-elevated stages where different short performances were taking place simultaneously. I managed to see Changing Steps, Scramble and Un jour ou deux, Totem Ancestor, and Back Exercises before sitting down on (ouch!) badly-splintered hardwood floor for Second Hand and Event.
One night of Merce Cunningham did not, in all honesty, cultivate my modern dance sensibilities. Even now I feel that I am butchering the art by not talking about it in the right way. But it was worth it. I don't regret sacrificing a Wednesday evening of watching the World Series opener while feeding on free junk food to watch men and women in spandex make intricately slow movements across a stage. Not a bit. In fact, I quite enjoyed watching the performances and making the important realization that I could hold my laughter in when some of the male dancers started sweating profusely about the crotch. My laughing at awkward moments---that uncontrollable immaturity---had always been my modern dance phobia. It's so terrible I could slap myself for it. But 'twas happily conquered that night! I did not laugh at all and managed to snap a hazy picture before a scowling security guard came over to shake his finger at me.
Furthermore, I felt that I actually understood some of it. Yes, I noticed some interesting stuff in the dancing. At one point when all the dancers were perfectly still, holding their poses, I noticed something move in the corner of my eye and turning, realized it was a shadow. I traced the shadow to its source: one of the dancers in the back was slowly lifting his arm. And THEN, it occurred to me that shadows play an important part in the performance. After all, it's called "Second Hand," suggesting imitation and shadowing. And the dancers' costumes, too, with the dark bluish-gray and light bluish-gray were like shadows + light! Tada!
So although I did not become a Merce Cunningham fanatic in one night, I might---just maybe---one day go see another modern dance performance.
