Last semester I went to the opera. My friends and I got all dressed up for what we expected to be a lovely little ballet. Instead, we were met with weird chanting, sharp movement, and what can’t be explained any way other than dry humping on stage. Turns out we should have done more research before just signing up for the first dance show we saw because three acts of weird modern dance were not what we had wanted. All of us left feeling like that was quite possibly the worst show we’d seen and it could hardly be counted as dance.
However, I’ve been thinking about it since visiting the Museum of Contemporary Art and while it still is not my preferred form of entertainment, I think I understand it more now.
The first act is the one that has stuck with me the most. Seven girls, chanting modern songs by female artists, rolling around together, clearly meant to be a celebration of the body and sexuality and a commentary on society. It reminds me a lot of the art of Thameur Majri and his broken bodies twisting away from the pressures just outside the canvas. Something does not have to be beautiful or “normal” to be art.
The dance I went to was not normal, it forced its way in front of you and wouldn’t let you look away even if you wanted to, even if you’d prefer Swan Lake. It is LGBTQ activists making their way to the front of people’s consciousness and refusing to stay hidden over the years.
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