ABSTRACT
There’s this strange sort of seductive kind of you could, I mean, I-I felt over the summer like ‘Don’t get too carried away with this’, you know, because, it’s not really, it’s not reality. It’s great to go and do it and for fi ve or six hours just, it’s, you know, you’re in a completely different world almost, you’re not doing any of those things you’d have to do everyday, which is, sort of, I suppose, escapism, escapism, is kind of, I fi nd that quite attractive. (Kay 1999: 7)
I can see both sides of the two worlds and I choose to stay in between, because the world we live in today is an amazing world as well, the big cities, the technology, the communication. It has a lot of bad shit happening, but that’s life and at the same time you do your work to live in this world, when you have to, you go to this other world, this underground world of dancing. (Yong 2001: 8)
These two accounts both sketch the dance world as an other world. Yong describes the dance world as an ‘underground’, but equally valid reality as everyday life. The two worlds, not only calling to mind the sacred and the profane, but also dualistic principles of religious ontology, seem to complement rather than oppose one another. The city, technology and communication on the one hand, and dancing on the other hand, constitute two spheres and modes of being, between which Yong moves back and forth, depending on his needs. Kay, by contrast, sketches a hierarchical relationship between the two worlds, one that is more, and another that is less real and valid. It conjures up Platonic philosophy and its dualism of the true realm of ideas and the less reliable sensual realm of the body. The lack of validity of the dance reality prompts an ethical self-refl ection: Whilst delightful, the ‘underworld’ of dance is depicted as a sensual sphere of temptation and seduction distracting the protagonist from her everyday commitments.
