Ravel began when he appropriated the slow-tempoed Latin American genre, bolero, and
Lewis plucked it from the French canon, from Béjart too, to turn it into something fiercer. But it is never spoken about, because it is clearly, obviously, known, and in its eminence she let strength and fragility go to bed together. Committed, spent and on the count, to dance. Indeed, on this empty stage shared with two others, and the many within, there is so much at stake yet all they are doing is being, dancing, wearing clothes, seeing us watch. It’s not even that big a deal — I wandered to every thing that happened before and after this, in the grandness of all things, minor matter.
Springing from a live impression of ›minor matter‹ by Ligia Lewis