Story for performance #341
webcast from Sydney at 04:56PM, 27 May 06

Did I ever tell you about the time we drew ripples on the dry lake bed and created a dance of concentric circles that have lasted for decades? Did I ever show you the images of space and time, twirling, swirling, spinning and standing still? We drove for a day and a half to get to the largest, flattest space on which to dance and draw. There were six of us, it was many years ago.

A line was drawn in the middle of a vast dry lake. A line long enough for us all to straighten up along and leave four paces between. Imagine it. six people in a line judging distances like words in a sentence, evenly spoken in rhythm, in a silent paragraph of the lake, the last person, strained to hear the instructions of the first.

The choreographer at the end of the line started spinning very fast on the spot. The next person along had to choose a speed slightly slower than the spinning centre and choose whether to walk clockwise or anti-clockwise then begin to pace in that planetary circle around the now spinning centre. The next person in line made the choice of direction and judged the degree of slowness in relation to the other dancers and and then the next, until the last person started on the slowest planetary arc. All were bodies moving along a path, fixed and wobbling as each determined the arc around the centre. When the planets aligned all the bodies halted in the now expanded trajectory and one of the end-dancers spontaneously started the choreography again by turning on the spot either fast or slow. That was now the centre around which the sentence revolved and all the bodies were held in check by the gravity of purpose. By the end of the sequence, the original line was enlarged 10-fold in circumference as the planetary arcs expanded and became lost in the distances between phrases.

Instead of a sentence of meaning, individual narratives were spoken out of touch with the next, never relating and never hearing each other.

Long stretches of time were measured by

meditational walking,

counting the steps,

judging the speed,

keeping the pace,

until the alignment came.

The outer rim became a zone of banishment, the dancer, a wandering nomad in psychological exile held within the arc, watching and speaking alone only conversing when the others linked the line.

At night we danced, pacing the circles while holding kerosene lamps. The photographs of the night dances taken from the ridge around the edge of the lake, showed continual lines of light creating marks of vibration, permanently fixed through long exposure and fine aperture. Dancing that took five minutes was captured in one exposure, some circles incomplete, some brilliantly lit as the dancer circled and circled the path, holding the light source. Drawing with light. Holding time fixed.

We stayed at the silent lake for several days, exploring the dance, the possibilities of interweaving and arcing between each other, creating conversations of patterns and images of pure brilliance. Bodies relating to each other, attracted by the steps of the dance, waiting for alignments and changes in rhythm, linking and looping together and then . . . . . gone.

Adapted for performance by Barbara Campbell from a story by Patsy Vizents.