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we just came back from a dance discussion event at the 92nd Street Y in
Manhattan. why are dancers so optimistic? the topic was dance education
and everyone was excited. there were videos and photographs that were also
cheering. I keep thinking of the opposite, of the depressive constructs of
my own work, its self-indulgent wallowing, its emphasis on _this_ body as
opposed to a communal or healing body. virtuality drives me to this
position, reality drives me elsewhere. is slaughter - of humans, animals,
plants, cultures, languages - the only conceivable future horizon? in the
long term all of this */he waves his arms around in an all-encompassing
gesture/* will disappear; information itself will dissipate to the
substance of irreconcilable differences. what then? what will happen to
these dances, these complex choreographies, these histories of somatic
knowledge, these very ancestries? where are the ancestors who will hear
us, who will answer us, who will keep the universe alive? where are they?
where are they? */he raises his arms in supplication/*