We begin by remembering. We want a bit of structure for this. We don't need much, not like building a wall, where everything needs to be solid, well grounded and measured.
We are building an idea.
We need a few whispy strands of purpose. Anything more definite would be limiting.
We are after all researchers in drama. Everything we do and feel is physical, but physical laws would sentence us to imprisonment. Cells formed of the very categories we would strive to define.
So, for now, we ask for a web to catch memories, and on which we may hang new ideas, to see how well they fit together.
Two spiders, in a room. Want to build a web to catch memories.
What do we remember? As we remember, we build, the web begins to become sticky, and structure emerges.
We remember touching, and responding. creating simple rules for a game of feeling (a touch) and responding (through movement). One is blind - eyes shut. They are the body. The other guides. They are the mind. They can see, but this is irrelevant for anything but basic health and safety requirements of the session.
The blind stands neutral, feet rooted. The guide touches the blind, gently. the blind feels the touch and moves in the direction of the touch, until they can move no more without losing balance.
Already we are bringing in new rules - "finding the game".
the blind can only move with a straight body if the guide uses only one hand. If the guide brings in the other hand, then the blind can bend, bringing in a whole new array of movement.
Guiding the arms is nice, a light, very free and expressive array of movements. Both arms moved independently but at the same time takes a lot of concentration, and the blind must focus hard to prevent themself trying to predict what the guide will tell them to do.
The guide uses the gentlest of touches, at times only the fingertips. This takes practice - at first the guide is tempted to try to force the movement, but this may knock the blind off balance. The guide has to feel when the blind has reached the full extent of their movement, and they need to trust the blind to communicate this to them.
And the blind needs to be aware when they reach the full extent of their movement, or they lose balance.
Moving different parts of the body gives very different styles, intensity and quality of movement. The arms free flowing, light. The body strong, more restricted, mechanical. Head movements are odd for the guide, as they are difficult to predict. For the blind, head movements are destabilising, taking away sense of direction and place. This could be very pleasant and relaxing. Or it could be unnerving.
For no doubt many different reasons.
The two spiders take it in turns. Swapping the roles of blind and guide. Each time discussing what has happened. 5 minutes for each turn. After all, this is a scientific experiment.
Part two. Blind Dancing
We move on to the next stage of the game. Blind dancing.
We each give ourselves a task, based on what we found difficult last week. Be more fluid when dancing is one, the other is to be more aware of the other (empathic) when guiding.
The feet become unrooted, and the blind is given permission to interpret, and, within the direction set by the guide, to respond not robotically, as in part one, but as a creative partner. Here a balance is needed, between being guided, and following ones own "wanting" in terms of movement. Or as a guide the balance is between giving safety and direction, and allowing freedom of expression.
It's a bit like a real life relationship where people negotiate their way through the many roles and purposes that come to us.
For me, being a guide was a enjoyable when the dancer correctly interpreted my purpose. If they tried to take more control than I was comfortable with, I found myself getting frustrating, and trying o force my will onto them. This reflects my constant battle with my need to be in control. I should do more of this, and maybe learn to enjoy the feeling of watching the dancer dance their own dance, with me just giving a little touch here, and there, and keeping safety. This is like the role of a parent.
Being the blind dancer was exhilarating. I felt very safe with my guide, who was much bigger than me and very patient. I could move very freely, spinning, turning, bending, back and forth, with my eyes closed the whole time and not once did I worry that I may collide with a piece of furniture or a wall.
And indeed I didn't.
At the end of the session, I felt very relaxed and peaceful. I still do now, writing about it. It felt very therapeutic.
My fellow researcher/dramaturge agreed.
It also felt like a journey for our personal relationship. One of getting to know each other through the body and movement, and through the themes of trust, responsibility, compliance, expressiveness, leadership, safety ...
And the second part of the session differed from the first in that the blind became uprooted; allowing a greater freedom of movement and thus expression and also a greater risk, and also increasing the responsibility of the guide, and also the potentiality of purpose of the guide.
A question comes to mind ... is greater movement necessary for greater expressivity? Maybe this is something for future explorations.
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