The Past Participle of Do is Done. Done and Dusted.

{Last to go up. Last to come down. 1500-odd words dedicated to an elderly Siamese cat and ballet, erased from the gallery wall.}


{A look at what was (especially for @alexandrahedberg).}


{Down she comes, in the blink of an eye.}

In light of taking down our work for in Your Dreams, a part of the process the very opposite to install’s giddiness (and as per yesterday’s post), I am looking forward to re-visiting The Australian Ballet’s Chroma triple bill this evening. In particular, Wayne McGregor’s Chroma (2006) in which the dancers appear to be taking new steps, figuring out the direction as it unfolds on the stage, discovering which way limbs can bend and stretch for the first time, a whole different vocabulary of movement that is as exciting to watch as it must be to perform. It is not unlike watching Lenni figuring out his gangly kitten body and his range of movements. It is not unlike a painting taking bodily form (but more on this later). It is not unlike the very beginning of things.

And I am looking forward to Jiří Kylián's two works that seem, like all his choreography, in accord with my own definition of beauty. Today, as the text was erased from the gallery wall, the shavings that fell to the floor recalled the powdered wigs of the dancers that when tapped released a cloud of white dust. Sechs Tänze (1986) reinterprented in Brunswick on a Tuesday morning!

Yes, the warm embrace of the State Theatre will serve as perfect foil.

To new things! To what comes next!

Thanks for having us, Counihan Gallery. It has been a grand monocled walrus. X


{They then reassembled and started all over again.}


{No, you couldn’t really grumble.}


{From thrill to thrill, Verreaux’s Sifaka.}


{And all the world was in a green conspiracy of quietude.}


{Standing mutely by.}