Dance Class

Just surfaced from a sea of Sunday papers and, trust me, wading through that lot is about the most strenuous thing I plan to do today.

Met up with Miss Hunt again last night to see the CanDoCo Dance Company at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. I’ve not been to the South Bank venues in ages, except for the Hayward, where I went to see the Dan Flavin exhibition with the Gin Soaked Boy a couple of months ago, so it was nice to return.

I’ve never really followed contemporary dance and the show both confirmed and confounded my expectations. CanDoCo are renowned as an integrated dance company, two of the performers were wheelchair users, but this did not prove to be a limiting factor in the slightest, instead it allowed for, if anything, a greater range of expression.

The evening was divided into two sections, a more conventional piece called The Journey and a more theatrical piece called In Praise Of Folly. I must admit I enjoyed the first piece more. I found the injection of heavily-accented dialogue in the second half distracting though I enjoyed the rather manic ‘rag doll’ dancing that one of the women engaged in. Lisa had the opposite response, she was very moved by this second piece whereas I enjoyed the evening as an experience of something new, something I’d seen very little off before, but my overriding feeling was the same as with my brief brushes with ballet: An admiration of the technical proficiency of the dancers and the beauty in their movements, without ever connecting with it emotionally. Not totally.

Afterwards Miss Hunt, her friend Hugh, and I headed over to the National for a post-show coffee. I know this rather brutal building has its detractors, but I love everything about it; all that era-specific concrete I find quite comforting. It’s a nice place just to hang out and we sat there chatting until the theatres emptied out and locating a train home became a necessity. A lovely evening.