ABSTRACT
In 1995, I first saw Transitions Dance Company perform Liz Aggiss and Billy Cowie’s dance work, Bird in a Ribcage (Figures 10.1 and 10.2), as part of a mixed bill of short repertory pieces.1 But despite having seen – and having been incredibly moved by – the performance, I found myself unable to write anything about it. One reason for this was that the piece – a dark, expressionistic look at love and loss danced by a young, all-female
cast – has never really loosened its emotional hold on me. Bird was unrelentingly mournful and, at times, uncomfortable to watch. I can still easily summon up the ghosts of the emotions that I felt during that performance; it is the only dance work that has ever made me cry. At the time of viewing, the strength of my emotional response and the completeness of my engagement with its subject matter made it impossible to find the requisite critical distance, the illusory objectivity, that would allow me to step away from myself and apply my intellect consciously to examine my reactions to the work. The directness of the images, the rawness in the emotions presented and elicited, the wholeness of the theatrical conception, all prevented the necessary in-the-moment disassociation separating the ‘critic’ from the ‘viewer’ that occurs either during the performance or when reflecting on it later. In addition, I was reluctant to unpick the methods through which Aggiss and Cowie had created their effects; I didn’t want to explain the ‘trick’ to myself.
