Edward Clug’s Carmina Burana






We seem to have a lot of ways of talking about music and set design, props and costumes, political implications and gender. But very little language to express what it means when an entire stage of dancers lie down on the floor and start shaking erratically, as though charged with electricity. Was it the passion of spring? Was it a nod toward early modern psychiatric therapies? Was it supposed to be funny?

There is so much going on in modern ballet. And it is so rich and so very ephemeral. Which is to say that it is as breathtaking as it is fleeting.

Here’s a quick thought exercise, to compare an art that is symbolically driven but text-based, to an art that is abstract but has no tangible / reproducible Thing.

Imagine you’re at a poetry reading, and you’re trying to figure out what the text is “about” and the author keeps coming back to some weird allegory about a lamp and a cucumber and you’re like “Uh huh…the lamp is probably knowledge and the cucumber is a phalice, but why they’re on a yacht in the middle of Lake Michigan is really anyone’s guess…umm…the alliteration is pretty though…” and it’s confusing and weird but also enjoyable and if you haven’t understood the full impact of the Thing, at least you can buy (or google) a printed version of the Thing and go back and read it a dozen more times until you figure it out.

So, imagine that, but with over thirty bodies on a stage and no text. And an orchestra. And the visceral connection of being a human body watching other human bodies contort themselves to rhythm.

The human body contains all the potential to form imagery, tone, and plot points, in at least in the same capacity as poetry or music. So shouldn’t we talk about it in at least as much detail as other forms?

I have to admit I spent only a small amount of time searching around for other writing on dance–mainly looking into what had been written about other pieces I’m familiar with. And the only thing I learned is that ballet seems to be the only form of art (that I know of) where it is perfectly acceptable for a review to be a simple thumbs up or thumbs down, based on opinion.

And if that’s the case, I supposed I am at least qualified to give Edward Clug’s Carmina a thumbs up. With the small caveat that a double-Clug bill is just too much damn Clug. But, in and of themselves, and taking them on their terms as best I can, I enjoyed both pieces. They were dramatic, thought-provoking, and well executed.


Leave a Reply to Kevin Cancel reply


WordPress.com Logo


Google photo


Twitter picture


Facebook photo


Connecting to %s