A Platform, A Stage, An Audience
We are artists. In some ways, we are sacrificial lambs. We bleed publicly. We can be found dancing naked and crying the necessary tear. We do this so they can name what they have sacrificed. To those without words, we give poetry; those without melody, a song. And to him, that guy, that just can’t catch a beat, we give contact improv. Our experimentations become jazz, rap, rock n roll. We say things like “let those girls dance on a