We’ve been working nine days straight, it’s been a scream, lots of dancing, lots of fun stuff, lots of excellent food every lunch time, lots of beautiful dancers I could easily fall in love with, or just give a job to in my fantasy dance company, not lots of sleep, not lots of time to think, plenty of laughing our asses off, one truly awful movie, a couple of moments I’m really pleased with, and one unwavering feeling:
I want to stay here. Fuck Australia, I’ve had it with the parochial, small, timid, safe, boring, same same same dross that passes for dance and culture there. It’s a mining town at the end of the world. Fuck China, I can’t stand summer in Guangzhou, come on, seriously can the weather be any worse? And where is the culture? Oh, that’s right you obliterated it along with the sparrows, fucking good one.
The sense I’ve had of belonging here – in Europe, maybe in Zurich, maybe somewhere else – is so utterly convincing, I’m a little worried about how down I might get when I have to go back, like going back to jail or something. The people – dancers, artists – here are cool, intelligent, educated, and lucky beyond belief to live in a place where art is regarded as a necessity, like the busses running, or water coming out of a tap. Most importantly, I’m happy. I don’t feel the ever-present unreality I feel in Melbourne, the need to leave, the restlessness, the dissatisfaction. It all goes.
We improvised today. Three dancers, plenty of good old 9-point geometric stuff, lots of blabbing about complexity theory, fractals, momentum, stuff… Yorkie, Vanessa and Matthieu look divine, I could have watched them all week. My only issue now – and it’s a big one, is what the fuck does this highly formal analysis of movement have in common with the grotesque theatrics of my other stuff? Buggered if I know…