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THE DANCEFLOOR
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'Tragedies, extinctions and the night trodden by dancing into draughts of light.' Tony Harrison |
| The dancefloor is a dance floor in use, it is a public space (a group of people not intimately tied), it is a place where dreaming and wakefulness meet. The dancefloor is a profound emotional and intellectual space, what happens there can reach to our core and is understood as a process of feelings, is the subject of deep ideas. Within this space, throu' each span of its existence, a drama is enacted, a drama whose themes may reach to the highest and most noble where love and trust battle hate and fear. |
| On the dancefloor, inner absorbs outer, the self becomes itself in movement; embodied, it shows itself. In everyday life, the body shows not so much the self but the mask the self has built (artfully contrived or simply following a flow) - there are the clothes that articulate clearly, the way the body is held, the face (its eyes and voice and expression); some are honest and windows to within, but more often people hide. (Much can be learnt of a person from the masks they have constructed, the way they inhabit their body - it shows their fears and desires, their self-knowledge.) Our inhabiting of our body is seldom to the edge. Usually it is only strong sensations that brings body into mind - the body forcing the mind's attention. On the dancefloor people can move out and fill themselves with themselves for the sake of it - the masks fade away as the music takes over, in a unique way we say what we are. |
| Music becomes the medium in which the body exists - limited
only by gravity and physics. Within this medium the self is shown, the ego
revealed. For the music has more dimensions than the body can move to and
stronger feelings than the body can express: the body cannot show all the
sound that is there - even if simple there will be subtle movements needed
to fully express it which are beyond the dancer; and the body cannot show
all the feelings that are there - feelings build on each other and their
representations, are endless: the dancer's task is never complete. |
| On the dancefloor there is fear, for we are frightened of ourselves and of those around us (fears that feed off each other). We are frightened of what we are, of how we compare to others and to our own idea of what we are. We are frightened of being seen. Dance is understanding, dance is letting go - one's strength and one's freedom, all a person needs alongside the wisdom of love. On the dancefloor, our understanding is revealed. To dance is to hear the music, to understand it and thereby inhabit it. One knows it will move a certain way and one moves one's body within that knowledge. Inside the music, illustrating the music's form physically, the body reveals its understanding and expresses it. -A movement that does not fit the music is wrong, and its wrongness can be seen. Our understanding is revealed and the ego quavers. And our freedom is revealed. We are frightened of each other: frightened of the truth that others can see, their judgement. On the dancefloor the body moves to the music and reveals the self as in few other spaces. It is fear of others that inhibits the dancer on the dancefloor; in dancing one reveals the extent of that fear. Our freedom is revealed and the ego quavers. |
| We are frightened of ourselves and we are frightened of each other; frightened that our bodies will be hurt, frightened that we'll be shamed - memory and imagination. For the dancefloor is a public space and thus the dancefloor is dangerous. A dancer, in revealing their understanding and freedom may make others frightened: the watcher may see their own weakness and feel their own enslavement, so seeing and feeling they may desire to hurt the person who shows them this. On the dancefloor one may be attacked, if one cannot escape one may have to fight. |
| The working dancefloor and the fight are opposites, equal and opposite. They are the good and the bad of great energy moving people together in their selves and their bodies. In both, people fill their bodies and become alive for each other; in both, people move in an interlocking pattern. One is a glorious coming together the other an horrific coming apart. |
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At its best the dancefloor is among the best that can happen: great pleasure in self-expression, in movement, in the self joining with others into a harmonious whole. At its worst the fight is among the worst that can happen: pain, violation, death; despair at the ugliness within people. On the dancefloor fear is the enemy, fear promotes anger, anger promotes itself, from it comes the fight. (We are all frightened and we are all frightened of our fear.) Thus the first stage of the drama is set. People reveal themselves and from this can come beauty or ugliness, love or hate, peace or war. A dancefloor in London, early twenty-first century |
| The party is the space in and around the dancefloor - a club, a house, a space outdoors: it is an area defined by its people and their proximity to the music. Before the party is reached, the music can be heard. Contrast the cold empty quiet with the seething noise. This party is in a building; stand outside the door, hear the sound, feel the adrenaline starting to flow. The door opens: the simple stands against the complex. |
| Inside, throu' the door, the party - the lights and noise and people. People on their own, people in groups, people moving and standing and sitting, but everywhere alive to the party as it comes into being. The lights are low but the darkness is shining, people may be still but their stillness is movement. Senses alert, we are open to the party's formation and our place within it. |
| At the beginning there is music but little dancing, just those at the edge moving as they stand; people arrive and start to fill the party, upon arriving they seek to know what they are now within. We read those around us: for our appearance is as a manifesto - a statement of the forms of life we adhere to, and seldom is it as personal as at the party. At work, day to day, we dress in accord with roles that we have to play, but at the party we are freer to show ourselves as we wish to be. Thus throu' a thousand signs deliberate and accidental the partygoers absorb what each is expressing of who they are. Which group is where in the hierarchies of society, who is where within each group; who is to be sought and who avoided, who is safe and who dangerous. |
| Most at the party are part of a group -the oldest human shape, people bound together by shared knowledge and feeling. The force that holds a group together can be from within or without, can be love or its opposite. Love holds a group together from inside. The members of the group are tied together out of desire to be so tied - 'share my joy, let me take some of your pain; let us become more one thing'. When hate unites a group, it is from the outside - the shape held together by external pressure. The group, composed of the angry and the fearful, see a threat from outside, something that hates them - they hold each other or risk the consequences of standing alone. For the group makes us stronger, it is greater than the sum of its parts, and we are greater for being part of it. It is not just strength: we all need to be held, to feel ourselves part of something larger; the angry and fearful cannot hold onto each other for the sake of holding, thus those in hateful groups invent danger and create danger out fear of aloneness. But lies do not work, and unless the pressure from outside is real and strong, and applied equally to all members, the hateful collections will come apart. Only those groups formed from love can function in a free space, only those groups formed from love can come together in a free space. |
| At this party the groups are more made from love and from this security reach out to each other. Eyes turn outwards and meet, looks are exchanged, the simplest and most primitive of meanings: acceptance. Eyes turn outwards and meet, looks are exchanged, the oldest and most primitive of meanings: desire. Good will allows the party, lust for experience fuels it. |
| We are dressed in our best, displaying our self-image, intoxicated (by the party and probably by substances), hungry for life. |
| Around the dancefloor in dark glowing light, eyes meet, looks are exchanged. To be accepted is perhaps the deepest human need, deeper even than the need to live. At the party the group is the beginning, it holds itself within; if this is throu' love, its members look out and welcome others. In the pulsing shadow people accept and are accepted. Onto the dancefloor. Feel the music throu' your body. Hear the pulse at its heart, its central rhythm. Take it into yourself, show it with your body. In and around the dancefloor the party is growing. There is excitement and movement and laughter and passion; and those who have passed each other four or five times lock eyes again and we start to know each other. Feel the music, showing the pulse at its heart feel for the sounds around it, show them with your body. On the dancefloor we are exploring the music, exhibiting what we have found, watching the others. The acceptance of before is renewed, new looks are exchanged, new people enter and join. The energy on the dancefloor is as a living flame; within the music and movement fill one, without the people surround one; pleasure flows, happiness sings. |
| Onto the dancefloor edge come the nervous and self conscious.
If they are not welcomed the dancefloor will destroy itself. For truth does
not distinguish between people; we are one thing and acceptance cannot be
confined with hypocrisy. Such a transgression against love for those outside
the group will sour the love between those inside. The loving group must
love outwards if it is to survive. For a person can see what they are, if
what they see repels them, they may hide from the knowledge, stamp on it
and lock it away; but no one can hide forever. Such knowledge, if deprived
of the light and air of conscious awareness will fester and suppurate within,
poisoning the self and destroying its relationships. We know that we are
all one, that another's suffering could be our own, that to cause such suffering
makes one repulsive. In the end, one cannot love a person who hurts others
because one knows that their pain is one's own. In the end, one cannot love
people if one hurts others, for one knows that one is repulsive and worthy
of neither love nor loving.
(The music pounds) The confident and the nervous join the dancefloor. Looks are exchanged, the joys of movement and belonging are accepted; the dancefloor is beginning to unite. The confident have slowed a little, are expressing again a simple beat, the movement to hold onto. The music pounds and people become dancing and we join together and the music pounds and the fear drops away and looks are exchanged and the music enfolds and we become part of something larger. |
| The DJ in their box conducts the dancefloor as a maestro
their orchestra. The rhythm slows. The DJ feels our mood and caresses it
toward ecstasy. They sense agreement, they see our letting go. The rhythm
speeds. The dancefloor moves faster, grows hotter. The rhythm insists itself,
it pushes deeper within us as we surrender. Joined with the rhythm, we are
joined among our selves. The i lets go, the world becomes music and movement
and dancefloor. The DJ quickens us and slows, and teases and gives, and
the dancefloor grows hotter and faster and sweeter. The music becomes a
spiralling spinning four-dimensional world of connection. Shapes move back
on each other, return to themselves the same yet different. Hear and see
and become the patterns. A final tease, and the music falters, and the dancefloor
slows almost to nothing not knowing where to go, and the river of energy
floods up behind us, and pressure builds, and the DJ holds, and releases
and the music explodes and the lights flash in the glowing darkness and
the dancefloor erupts in a passion of existence. This peak, this plateau
that can be held for a time: this is life at one of its best.
But the dancefloor does not always work. A dancefloor in London, early twenty-first century |
| This party is in a building; stand outside the door, hear
the sound, feel the adrenaline starting to flow. The door opens: calm stands
against confusion. At this party the fear and anger outweigh the love. Around
the dancefloor in the cloying darkness eyes meet and looks are exchanged.
Fearful of their own failings, the uncertain encourage the group to mock
those outside it. To mock is the easiest way to cover self-doubt: this profane
mixture of hatred and laughter takes what one fears for oneself and puts
it on the other. The group is united in despising the other, in doing so
it pushes away its despising of itself. Within the groups, those uncertain
of their position, fearful of being left alone, bring their group to look
out with hostility; the hostile looks received in return are at the group,
they make of it one thing, securing the place within it of those who felt
uncertain. Onto the dancefloor. It has become a set of territories. At the
edges each group vies for more space. The music pounds and fills the bodies
with display of menacing fitness. Eyes turn outwards and meet, looks are
exchanged, the simplest and most primitive of meanings: derision. Eyes turn
outwards and meet, looks are exchanged, the oldest and most primitive of
meanings: the willingness to fight.
Leave now, leave the choking darkness. Leave before the pain and fear erupt and are swamped by ancient reactions to danger, and life at one of its worst can no longer be seen for what it is. Leave before the fools tear themselves apart out of the need to be together. Leave for the dancefloor cannot be saved tonight. Leave before you weep. This world, a mix but not a blend of heaven and hell; this strange world
where anything can happen, where parties can go either way, where the
dancefloor can move more towards yes and love and closeness and joy or
towards no and hate and distance and despair; this world is ours for the
shaping and ours for the taking, or it is ours for the losing. It is time
to wake up. |
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| © Joe Morison 2003 | |