In the Upstairs Studio at Dancehouse, Rosalind Crisp hands me a small card which invites me to “Please sit where you want and move wherever you want.” She motions to the small light fixture on the wall, should I need it, to illuminate the printed text. I hold my card up to the light, following the person before me, and read the second sentence which grounds the first: “while I made 23 contemporary dance pieces for the moment we extinguished 23 Australian bird species for ever . . . ” A warm welcome note with a sobering tail, it sets the tone for an ‘of sorts’ retrospective by one of Australia’s most rigorous and significant dance artists. “The real time it takes,” heralds the promotional material, promises to be celebration of “40 years of relentlessly undoing dance” by the “Mick Jagger of Australian dance.” On opening night, a series of lines from extinction risk status to legendary status hover in the air, and all before I’ve found a place to perch.