Ralph Lemon—I think he knows magic.
He came and muttered some words and I felt better. Did he cast a spell on us? Maybe an optical illusion—I wonder if he was even here at all.
I vaguely recall being angry, no, furious at him for directing that abomination, but I just could not feel the same way after meeting with him. It was not the way he spoke, or the way he looked, but everything that encompassed the man. He came and left, and within the duration of free hour I was left apathetic and no longer felt anything towards him, not hate nor love.
He was peaceful, barefoot with his legs crossed sitting in the large room. There was something tranquil and dignified about him. It became unimaginable to think that someone like him could produce such thought provoking work. When I was finally “told” the reasoning behind his work, I could do nothing but accept Ralph and all his idiosyncrasies, or try to at the very least.
I had come to the conclusion that Lemon was testing us. His work, redundant as it seems, is merely the personification of “dance” in its freest form. In an attempt to rediscover dance, Ralph had merely used us, pushing us to our innermost limits, so that he could distinguish the fine line between dance appropriate for theater and dance as torture.
Actually it was indistinguishable from torture; I was mentally incapacitated from the act itself, and my sense of understanding had dwindled to nothingness. I had over-thought his dance piece, trying to put pieces of the puzzle together when they never existed. I had fried my circuitry. Blown a fuse. Complete meltdown. I’m not sure if David or Okwui really understood what they were trying to accomplish, but the simplicity of it had left me brain-dead.
Regrettably I did not get much out of speaking with Lemon. I had learned a little about his background, though not nearly enough to tell a story, and I had begun to understand why people were outraged at his piece. There really isn’t much to it than what meets the eye, a misguided and failed attempt at “thinking outside the box.” I feel sorry for the audience members who over analyzed this piece, I can sympathize with them, but what can you do?
What has been seen cannot be unseen 🙁
