Shadows & Light

Here we are, in Brighton & Hove, rehearsing by the sea.  The ballroom at King Alfred’s Leisure Centre; low light, dim chandeliers; lighting for a Saturday evening reception, couples dancing around the wooden floor; a sort of brown light, honey-coloured.  Then we go outside, and where the sunlight hits the surface of the sea it’s like molten metal; dazzling; blinding; incredibly, brilliantly bright.  Darkness and shadows; brightness and light.  

In that ballroom we’re making the show again, with these girls from Brighton & Hove.  The room is filled with laughter, play, quiet concentration as we choreograph a new version of the project into being.  

On Twitter, someone comments on the title of the project, says it’s “creepy”.  And there’s the shadow again, that shadow that’s always lurking around this work, that imagined other version of what this project might be.  The shadow that’s always present.  The shadow that the show insists on pushing away with laughter, dancing, play, togetherness and light.