Xperience 86
How do you get 4 woman to dress up in high heels on a wintry night in the middle of the week, have them pay for their own tickets and drinks with not one word of bitching? Two words; Swan Lake.
Some people might roll their eyes, wander over to the fridge to get some beer while making jokes about men in tights and what not. Or my personal favourite from my dad, calling it Die Vrekkende Swaan (the Dying Swan) and naming a list of better cultural things to do, thank goodness my mom shares my interest in this one.
After my previous attempt to book ballet tickets and ending up at a strange version of Romeo & Juliette with some dancers in it, I made double sure this is the real deal. With men in tights – dancing – lots of women in white dresses – dancing – and the real music score by Pyotr Tchaikovsky – not dancing (well maybe in his grave).
Artscape was packed, we sipped our Zonnebloem and discussed every outfit walking past, also wondered what some of the men were promised by the women in their lives to see the ballet without complaining. But all of that was forgotten when the lights dimmed. The overture, played by the Cape Philharmonic Orchestra, set the scene I breathed in and only let out during the interval.
I’m always blown away when I see a live music act or original art in a gallery. But nothing really prepares you when faced with a group of artists who spend their whole life on perfecting an arabesque, pas de deux, pirouette and a whole glossary of movements that’ll break any normal body. The fact that you can hear their toes (because that’s pretty much the only part of their bodies ever touching Mother Earth, or Mother Stage if you want) above the music, on the beat of the score amplifies the physical torture they’re putting their bodies through. But, as in things torturous, it was absolutely beautiful, worth every second of their training.
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