A1 is a cumulation (and not necessarily a culmination) of solo explorations on authorship, power, and time.
How can dance, a performing artform that generally doesn't rely on texts, be produced to be replicated and re-experienced? What's the line between performance documentation and photography? What elements of performance on screen have more intrinsic value to me and to my audience?
Each segment of A1 is the documentation of a performance that had no audience members. Your eyes through the screen are the first and only audience for the performances. You were present during the exact moment the performances occurred, but you were in a different space. We still shared that time and now we re-share it with every click you make on this website. Thank you!
Defiance Must Have Surprise
Much of A1 is an honest effort in resisting the earth's gravitational forces onto my body. I've had a massive fear of heights since childhood, but I reigned in the phobia because I've learned heights aren't so scary when you have full bodily control. For this reason, some may not consider A1 to be dance because there's no dance-ing really at all. A1 offers numerous attempts at solving physical problems through dance thinking. There's space for comedy too and also the political. I ask myself daily: why this white body in this big white space? What does my particular resistance (i.e. body mass and shape and identity) to gravity mean in the context of all other resistences not present in the space and on your screen? Who should be on the screen? Who should watch?
Ashton x Duncan : Mira x Trisha
In 1975 famed ballet choreographer Sir Frederick Ashton premiered Five Brahms Waltzes in the Manner of Isadora Duncan at the Royal Ballet. The work is a balletic understanding of Duncan's modern dance ideas as interpreted through the choreographer's tenderly nostalgic, subjective memories of the performances from his youth. Earlier this year, maverick dancemaker Trisha Brown died on what happened to be my birthday. I was shocked by how affecting this moment in history felt to me, considering my sizable distance from her work and celebrity. Every time a major 20th century icon dies, I am reminded of the passing of time from the world that existed when I was born. The psychology is something like: She is of the time of my birth and now she is gone, therefore my youth is going or also gone. In homage to Trisha Brown and her time, I have explored her ideas using my own body, in the manner of Sir Frederick Ashton's remembering of Isadora Duncan.
Let's start a conversation
- Mira Treatman