to disappoint a god.
Initial development at Dancehouse Independent Choreographers Program 2024A lone figure sits at the plinth, hands busily moulding and carving each curve, angle, limb of the human figure - their creation. Their hands soiled with layers of yellow clay, toiling above the pristine folds of their silk qīng Ruqun.
qīng - the blue-green of the mended heavens, celadon, deep as wet soil, blue as a clear sky, green as fresh bok choy.
In the dim blue light, their arms blur into tendrils, Mamianqun into layers of molting skin - for a brief moment they find your eyes. Enigmatic, poised, questioning. You wonder if they are proud of you.
'to disappoint a god.' is a WIP, a rough question and an even rougher proposition. If there was someone or something in the skies, watching us - would they be proud of us? Recently, I think that they would be profoundly disappointed.
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