See the body. See how the body moves. See how the bodies obscure and conceal each other. See what they reveal. See how dance is a landscape. Its motion makes meaning and abstracts it. Who are you watching? Who are they? What are they telling you? What are they not telling you?
Their surface is made cloudy through the abstraction of the body that is dance, it’s removal from language and embracing of affect (affect being the feeling, the thing that happens when you watch, when you feel, when you know, without yet being able to say). Through dance, the body makes itself visible, but it also makes its body invisible, the mind makes the body obscure, unreadable.
Understandable, ununderstandable, standable. Stand. Stand there, move there, dance there. This is a direction, an invocation of action. The command: to dance. The utterance: a dance. Language makes dance, and yet dance defies language. Dance is not language, and language is not dance, but they are one and the same. Hear/see/feel how language makes meaning, how dance makes time, how visibleness makes seeing impossible.
Perhaps we are all always dancing, that it is a perpetual occurrence, bodies in motion, show us things that we do not have words for: the legibility of dynamic, the arch of the back, the bend of the leg, the sound of breath, the passage of time.
See how it passes, ebbs and flows through time, rips and runs through space, and through moving we make our meaning, through time we take our narrative. Individualized, indefensible, intangible to each other, except through experience, explanation, explication, exposition, endlessly.