The moment you walked in, you could feel a change in the atmosphere. It might have been because of the sparkling curtain of beads that fragmented and distorted the light or because of the dark ambience created by the dimly lit room. The one sight that greeted the audience as they walked in to find their seats was the nude woman strumming a guitar. She sat, legs crossed, on the elevated platform, strumming a soothing melody. Chairs were arranged in such a fashion that it entirely surrounded the platform. Mirrors of all different shapes and sizes were placed on the wall, angled downwards, allowing all different kinds of views for the audience as well as the dancers.

The dance started with a single spotlight at the woman who was strumming the guitar. She dressed herself in beads, twisting and turning, prancing at times and dancing at times. Three other women, who donned a fur coat, cloth skirt and a thin black coat, respectively, soon joined her. They stomped, screamed, jumped, skipped, ran, fell, convulsed and stared. Their many different actions at different times all came together at certain points, and all scattered and dispersed at others. There were times when they were organized, strutting across the platform confidently, and there were times when they nearly crashed into each other as they lunged and jumped.

RoseAnne Spradlin’s “Beginning of Something” was certainly the beginning of something. The way the dancers stripped themselves of their clothes showed their vulnerability, with no clothes to hide under. They bared themselves of anything and in a sense freed themselves from whatever limitations they had.