Still Life

There are people who argue that the exclusion of dance –eternally left behind the scenes, in the interludes, the transitions, the sidewalks, the frames, the walkways and the passages of the Arts– has in fact been its greatness. 

But there are those who argue that there isn’t any other way. From the beginning of time, and among so many arts intended to last, it was essential for humanity to be blessed with an art that was a natural enemy of endurance. An art forgetful by its nature, naturally lazy. An art without a past in the drift called History.

Moreover, it was essential for dance to fill the void between the different arts of representation; to embody the lack of any representation; and to do so through what is essentially an absence, an ephemeral element: the mortal body.

Abstractly, the body can only speak of death believing it is speaking of life. The bodies of the dancers are like guests at the dinner table where only depressing topics are discussed. Possibly, it is in this “end of discourse” where Dance finds its art form: a still life.