I was happy to see that there are still people who write letters. But the thought that I will be in your place scared me. Out of delicacy I will not comment on the things you told me. I know the feeling of regret after sending thoughts, the desire to delete and adjust. So I’d better pass under silence and maybe even forget what you shared with me and I’ll feel at the next meeting after the twinkle in your eyes if it’s necessary to remember.
I feel like I’ve impregnated myself a little with your poetic-epistolary language, but, be that as it may, let’s continue.
Would you like me to describe in detail what the ideal world of dance would look like for me? Here I pull the handbrake a little because I don’t know if I’m actually in the world of dance. Maybe in the world of the show, in the world of all kinds of possibilities and, sometimes, in a silent and expansive world in which I dive wholeheartedly. It seems that there is a dance specially tailored for me, with sewn pockets to fit other things.
Besides, it seems that the dance has already turned its ideal side towards me. I sometimes infer that some have met other girls, but I can’t do anything about it. I know that in utopias and ideally there should be room for everyone and, look, it worries me a little that I’m ok with inequality. I know someone who would be smiling under their moustache reading this, but I don’t know if it’s you.
You ask me what is more important to me than dancing and then you continue with “what do you believe in?”. Look, if you really want me to make a confession, I will tell you that I believe in God, more precisely in the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. And while that should be enough for a lifetime, it seems it’s more important for me to be on stage/in the studio, creating things and cracking my wrists. Let’s say it’s my way of being shared with the world, of being with people. I don’t know what it’s like to go out drinking with a friend, for me friends are the ones I work with, as long as I work. It may seem a little cynical, but I assure you that there is a lot of love there, in the joy of being together doing something that is beyond us. In the dance, that’s it. Poate aici apare latura mea religioasa, poate asa eram religioasa inainte de a fi propriu- zis religioasa- in ideea ca relatia mea cu tine trece pe la un al treilea.
Continui cu intrebari despre minciuna si sinceritate si ai nimerit iar un loc fierbinte. Well, let’s say it was painful with my lies and others’ lies until I resolved my inner conflicts by taking refuge in my craft. I have no intention of getting out of here anytime soon. Although, here, you slipped a little anxiety under my door.
No, I don’t know how honest I was in the last paragraph, anyway I feel a ticking clock and with all delicacy I tell you that I don’t have much time and availability for you.
I leave you with the same questions so that if you were tempted to judge me for excessive seriousness, let me see how you deal with them:
What is more important to you than dancing?
What do you believe in?
The last questions are about lies and sincerity, I’ll let you imagine and reformulate them or even ignore them because I wasn’t too far and didn’t answer them exactly.
I would like to ask you something else: what is your relationship with time, do you understand?
I greet you,
the third body
PS: forgive me for the lack of diacritics, I am writing on a laptop which, until I started writing this PS, I thought had no diacritics. have.
In 2021, several choreographers told and forwarded to their colleagues’ questions about the body, the pandemic and the place/meaning of dance for them, in the form of anonymous letters.
Each letter served as inspiration for an illustrator to create an augmented animation during DANSTOPIC workshops in the spring, a guided journey by Skeptic Dog Animation and Human Interface.
The animation of Letter #3 was created by Tuan Nini and can be discovered through the Artivive app.
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.artivive