Writing Colin
I wrote this as Colin improvised. It was the last bit of ‘dancing’ in today’s rehearsal.
He’s standing there, turning his head, side to side, Very slowly. He is winking at me! He is outrageous. But he is not wanting anything. It’s not nudge nudge wink wink mind you. More like it’s a secret, but one that we all know about. The bubble of contemporary dance? He is still standing there. Still moving his head, side to side. Now his right eye is almost closed, but I still know he is looking at me. Like when children close their eyes so as not to be seen. Now he has moved, is moving, but STILL looking at me. It’s disconcerting, funny. He winked again. It was definitely a wink. Then a very slow wink. He is standing still again, but side on. I notice his body shifting to and fro, ever so slightly .. a small dance of balance. He isn’t smiling. But he isn’t serious either. I made him smile, I wanted to mime a kiss at him.
He walked forwards, and is now facing ‘front’ again (towards me). Is this a challenge? Is he challenging me to blink first? You win. But it is quieter than that. Delicate. Something to cradle, to take care of. To be committed to?
He moved across the other part of the space, and now his eyes are closed, flickering softly. He swallowed, his adam’s apple moving down then up. With his eyes closed I feel more comfortable, but also more excluded. It is about him now I think. His place, his body, his state.
These are difficult propositions I am being asked.
His mouth moved then (after walking upstage right); as if he was going to say something, or forgot the word. Is he saying “I love you”? No, I don’t think so. But he is standing there like a dancer, feet in parallel. So much stillness means I am tuned into the slightest unweighting of his feet, legs … they are made to be large.
His mouthing of words has become larger, more emphatic, but I still do not know what he is saying. There is an edge though, as if he is frustrated (or angry?) with me for paying attention, for watching. I am being told something, there seems little room for me. It is confronting.
He has moved back to the front left ‘corner’ (there are definitely four quadrants in the space that he is operating/acting from).
Now his mouth is open, felating the air, increasingly provocative. I am moved by the silence, by the gentle pleading in his eyes, mouth. At the front right, his eyes close again, but this time his body is approaching or finding a collapse, a deep squat, a euphoric posture, basking.
