Dances From Within
Essay 3 of 5
I look at these pictures and I think of loveliness, kinesthesia, kick-up-your-heels joy. I think of sex, not surprisingly. I think:
--Why are there no women in these pictures?
--How can these men move in tight leather pants?
--What does the music sound like? Where is it coming from?
I am jealous of them. I project myself into the picture, that I am casting one of the shadows on the ground. I imagine that I am one of the tourists watching the dancers, with a slightly abstracted, puzzled expression. Or do I look the way I hope myself to be-open, smiling, tapping my foot, dying to participate, but a little wary?
Then I think: Why am I thinking about myself? Who are these men? Where are they from? Did the photographer ask their names?
#3
#4
#7
I continue to look with my browser. The dancer in #3 looks like someone I know, who I just had a fight with, and I feel sad. I am struck by the litter on the ground in #4. Then #7 shimmers, like tinfoil.
Sometimes you see light in the pictures, sometimes it fades away, just like in summer…
#9
I get to #9 and I stop. My hands stop on the keyboard. I look at the sweat on the dancer's back, and my heart beats just a little faster. Is he one of the leaders? His pose suggests authority, but exhaustion, a break in the action…
#14
#21
#25
#14, again, composition, a perfect Vee. #21 reminds me of a victorious matador. My favorite is #25, and those flawless, broken shoes.
#27
#27 is very tender, it could have been shot by a lover….
What is Alex trying to tell us? I don't know. I don't think of anything cultural at all. Instead, I think of words, phrases. I think of:
Summer.
Sex.
Light.
Our future. Their future.
These men, frozen in time, will always be beautiful.Anonymous New York City, June, 2002.
This essay (c) 2002 author. All rights reserved. It may not be reproduced in any way without permission by the author. Printed with permission.
Essay 3 of 5