Unrehearsed Choreographies was a group project that aimed to create a corridor of light between two busy intersections around Concordia Campus. Members of the group offered light objects to passerbys, asking them to carry them a short distance to be delivered to other members of the group.
Of course, because it was the coldest night of the year, there were fewer participants than I had previously imagined. People were also a lot less trusting than I thought they would be. People were mostly skeptical or non-responsive. Many just obeyed the commands, walked in a straight line and hardly even considered the object or their actions. I wish they could have had more fun with the objects and discovered them more. The light objects were really cool, but the mylar was too fragile and some of them would fall off with the wind, losing their magic.
I felt out of place playing the instructor, the wisdom behind the action. I wanted to be in it, walking with people, fighting and dancing. That came out a bit anyways, although I was dancing to keep warm. At times, when there weren’t many people passing by, or responding to us, it could quickly become lonely, and I would start wondering the same things as the passerbys: What was I doing out here in the cold? For whom?
What I found was most interesting and unexpected, was how many people wanted to know the meaning behind the work. They would bring me the light-piece and ask, “What is this?” “What does it mean?” “Why?” I always responded that they would be in a better position to tell me, seeing as they were the participants. I feel like art has become this complicated thing that is not always accessible and easy to understand, and it always requires a greater meaning.
Does all human interaction need a meaning or a purpose for it to hold any lasting value? I feel like it has become so.