Dance Major
On the rear wall of New York Live Arts’ black box theater, two grids of a dozen headlamps each resemble the glaring light towers of a sports arena.
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World-class review of ballet and dance.
The stage is strewn with potatoes. Single straight back chair, overturned. A canteen. At center is a life scale charcoal sketch, unframed on canvas. It looks like a human figure topped by a dark smudge of a head—the shape calls to mind a famous work of Gustav Klimt. A narrator (Viviane Eng) recites a brief note written by the choreographer: “I dance with various You but one at a time . . . Dancing with You brings back memories, but a moment later, I dig my head into the ground, missing You . . .Why potatoes? They are bombs. They are dead bodies on the ground..” The final line is, “I have nothing.”
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On the rear wall of New York Live Arts’ black box theater, two grids of a dozen headlamps each resemble the glaring light towers of a sports arena.
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