temperance

The last couple of days have been intensely busy, usually to the degree that dinner doesn’t happen, and even climbing has taken a pause. Last week, after some weeks of talking, amazing dancers Bonnie Paskas and Gala Moody and filmmaker/tyrannical Bastardo-swilling pirate Paul Williams and I got together realised we would be making a short performance and dance film over the next two weeks.

We are rehearsing in the Temperance Hall in South Melbourne, that for some years has been a rehearsal venue and is one of the last remaining spaces in inner-city Melbourne for such a thing. It’s a black-box with a small proscenium arch stage at one end and heaters to prevent spring frostbite while we make dance.

I’m currently either rehearsing or researching for three separate works that have some kind of crossover but are also thematically distinct. Some of my time lately has been spent in the absolute boudoir of the State Library, reading delightful gems like Bubonic plague in nineteenth-century China, and some of it has been a return to Leibniz, who has lurked behind much of what I read in the past year anyway, and has surfaced again through Gilles Deleuze’s monograph, The Fold: Leibniz and the Baroque

Temperance then is something of a return to pure dance, that I last left off four years ago with 吃肉的人 carnivore at the Guangdong Modern Dance Company. As usual when I’m making a new performance I’ll try and blog about it after every rehearsal, though I’ve been remiss so far.

As an individual unit, each monad includes the whole series; hence it conveys the entire world, but it does not express it without expressing more clearly a small region of the world, a “subdivision,” a borough of the city, a finite sequence.

[snip]

The condition of closure holds for the infinite opening of the finite: it “finitely represents infinity”. It gives the world the possibility of beginning over again in each monad.

— The Fold: Leibniz and the Baroque