High Art at the Joyce, Flexing at the Armory
I’m essentially Merce-deaf—I see and appreciate the brilliant deployment of the body, the clarity of the vision, the probing of an extraordinary dance intelligence, but I’m never touched. What I look for, or respond to, in dance just isn’t there, or else I’m not equipped to find it there. To me, Cunningham makes movements, not works. This is my loss, and I regret it, but there it is.