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What, I've often wondered, is the language of choreography? How is the idea of movement communicated; how does it evolve? What lives within that mysterious shift space of motion and narrative?
When I began to take ballroom dance lessons from the choreographer Jim Bunting, at DanceSport PA, I had the chance, at long last, to ask questions. Ultimately I had the chance to visit Jim while he was at work on a piece with two young dancers—to watch him yield his story to them. I wrote a bit about all of this in a piece that recently appeared here, in The Dance Journal. The essay opens with these words:
Love walks down the street and sits in the park in the sun. It tenders its hand in apology or desire, corrupts the knees, revokes the arch of the foot. Love is the story, never finally told in words and, perhaps, never finally told at all, though one gets fleeting glimpses of it in the choreographic work of Jim Bunting.
It rained early, but I was out on the bike—almost alone beneath the Spanish moss of Sea Pines. You glide here, on the wide macadam. You go and you go and you go—past the big horses of Lawton Stables, out to the lighthouse of Harbour Town, and on.
It had stopped raining.
I went down to the beach with my camera. A friend—a choreographer—has been talking about sharks and how they move, how they move him. I thought perhaps I'd photograph a dolphin or two, watch them move, be moved.
There were no dolphins. I stood at the edge of the sea and waited. Pelicans. Sun rise. Cloud break. No dolphin. And then, two feet away, no more, the startle of an animal, near. It couldn't be what I thought it was. But no, it actually was: A shark at my feet.
Seriously.
I've been coming to Hilton Head since I was a teen. I have never seen a shark.
It became my companion. I'd move, and it would come near. I'd begin to walk along the shore and it would swim in parallel. I was—moved, perhaps? Blessed? A shark so near, and not threatening. A shark, sea-colored, in the deep fin art of choreography.
What, I've often wondered, is the language of choreography? How is the idea of movement communicated; how does it evolve? What lives within that mysterious shift space of motion and narrative? 
Love the exerpt. Something about dancing that really is an amazing expression of love - in all forms: agape, eros, philia. M/b b/c touch is such essential part of each?
Choreographers have amazing vision and understanding of how motion can speak volumes.
I love the way you've captured the choreography.
oh, your words are delicious! i am dreaming of dancing these days and this post is perfect. *off to read the whole essay*