Good. God.

Damn. That was a busy evening. But a fruitful one, seeing as I had the pleasure of catching two shows in one great venue – Daghdha Dance Company’s Standing in Ink, followed by Rachid Ouramdane’s Loin…(Far…)(which I’ll do a post on later) in what’s practically the festival’s second home, Project Arts Centre. And I love it. Stepping into Project’s foyer just before a show is like stumbling into some kind of arts DMZ. Whatever it is about the place – and I don’t know if it’s the building, the programme, the clientele or some combination of all three - it makes any discussion or debate feel all the more intense. Suddenly, it feels like the stakes have been raised. And while this can play havoc with interpersonal relations…let’s face it – there’s nothing like it to get you psyched up for a show or exhibition.

Take the Daghdha piece. Choreographed by Michael Klien, Standing in Ink presents itself as ‘a dialogue between two dancers and a choreographer’, the two dancers in question being the talented and accomplished Mark Carberry and Laura Dannequin. Ostensibly, this work results from a year’s worth of conversation amongst all three, the performers becoming ‘movement-ink’, their actions tracking each shift in relationship and perspective, allowing them both to learn about each other as well as disclosing a new world in dance.

Now, in watching the piece, I’ve no doubts about the commitment of all to the task at hand – that of ‘continuously questioning the very concept of dance and each other,’ with each show ‘presenting various markers of this ongoing process.’ Supplementary to the happenings on-stage was a short text by Alexis Clancy, a mathematician invited to collaborate with the artistic team (and involved for quite some time now in Daghdha’s investigations of process, system and the nature of choreography). Certainly, from the outset, Carberry and Dannequin demonstrate an attitude of acute sensitivity to, yet remoteness from each other’s presence. Unfortunately, their spasmodic, struggling, disjointed actions, episodically interspersed with a clinging, promiscuous intimacy, suggest little in the way of a dialogue. Little in the way of questioning. Little in the way of interrogation or investigation or elucidation. Simply, it felt in its earnest formlessness as contrived as any work of empty convention.

Strangely enough, this sensation was further strengthened by the presence of a rather large fly in the theatre. As it tumbled and dived and smacked against lights, dancers and spectators, it’s quite intelligible - yet unpredictable and so strangely engaging - motion contrasted with the performance proper. And I felt compelled to wonder: what, really, is being learned here?

Now, don’t get me wrong – I happen to think Klien’s (and Daghdha’s) attention to ‘the aesthetics of change’ worthwhile. And the inspiration, parallels and analogies that can be drawn from a range of academic and scientific fields of enquiry are valid and appropriate, with certain reservations. But, ultimately, I suspect ‘liberating’ choreography as a word to describe (as suggested here) the shaping of those interactions, relationships, constellations and proportionalities that make up reality…well, it risks ‘liberating’ dance from its own nature . Sure, patterns, cycles, repetitions, resonances can be found everywhere. This has always been known and taken advantage of in all the arts. And dance uses these things too. But choreography is its own thing; dance exists in its own right, on its own level, in its own domain, with concerns and powers proper to itself. Such a broad definition at best risks delivering us an art form denatured and deracinated rather than primal and vital. At worst, it risks making dance irrelevant and choreography defunct.

But even if they haven't found an answer to please me, at least the guys in Limerick are in dialogue with something. Which makes their presence in Project unsurprising and very welcome.

Unlike the fly.