One of my friends invited me to come to her ballet performance in Northern Japan, and I ended up having a special day off work so I decided to go check it out. I am very naive regarding the classic arts, both western and asian so I was looking forward to educating myself a bit. The exhibition hall was a bit out in the countryside faraway from Tokyo. So I took a bullet train as far North as it would take me, and then hopped on a local train. From the station to the culture center, I walked about 10 minutes in a soft, warm, summer rain. The countryside was fresh, the mood vibrant.
The performance itself was fascinating. I kept in mind that this was an old art, that first came to prominence in a more conservative era. With that said, the dresses of the female dancers were clearly designed to be titillating, the moves provocative. And even the male dancers simply wore a tight leotard on bottom (so tight that it etched the butt cheeks) and a clearly stuffed cod-piece. Not all the dancers were professional, some were a bit young and wobbly. But when a group of ballet dancers got into a synchronized movement there was something highly mesmerizing about it. Almost as if a group of flowers , lacking words, had animated themselves on stage and began to try to communicate with symbolic movements. Hands arched, bodies twisted, all conveying some sort of narrative that went beyond words. It was truly art, movement for no logical reason; half way between a vigorously abstract dream and the dawn of functional reality. My friend was amazingly talented too. Dancing as if she was putting no effort into it, each move perfectly executed like a robotic feather. It was amazing.
