I found a diary of mine, now lost in my boxes, from when I was about ten. I stated my ambition, to become a boxer or a ballet dancer. I wasn’t very sporty at school, not very fast or strong, but loved to play tig and run around (and became the table tennis champion).
We drove down to Port in terrible weather (winds of up to 90Ks an hour) to see the Sydney Dance Company. We don’t get to see dance where we live, though we dance together in the lounge when the mood takes us.
We went to the ‘Sneak Peak’ in the afternoon to watch the 17 dancers limber up and practice, with Raphael from Barcelona who looks after rehearsals (not the Artistic director Rafael Bonachela, also from Barcelona). He talked about the life of a dancer ‘You really have to love it’ (unsurprising), and answered questions. Fascinating.
From the moment the curtain opened on the evening performance of ‘momenta’, (choreographed by Rafael Bonachela) the dancers had metamorphosed from dancers limbering up into forceful, exact, energetic, fiery machines (of various sizes, forms, genders) discovering what limbs, muscles, ball and socket joints could achieve.
For an hour and half, of constant movement (with a few too many pas de deux, that blurred together for me), they were fantastic. The music by Nick Wales complemented the non-stop action. For the next few weeks, they have to learn two new pieces then head off to Helsinki. We were in awe of their mental and physical stamina.
Before the performance we had dinner with a view of the sea, rough, staccato, alive and beautiful.Sometimes, on very wild days, the shorline can seem like a heaven-sent barrier, occasionally leaking a malevalent force – to think, she is our mother . . .
and then calm descended.
