Fellow national curators (myself included) would recognize when our own limitations of history/age/privilege were a barrier and step aside to let others more aligned with an artist or project take over. In this landscape, talented younger artists and curators would receive effective, thoughtful mentorship and training, while those more seasoned would acknowledge and draw inspiration from the energy and ideas of next-generation curators.
A virus, which is a notebook and some juicy apples, dances. A virus, which is a giant Siamese palace, dances. A virus, which is a helicopter landing, dances.
The pandemic has been racialised, oft-referred to as the “Wuhan virus” and the “Chinese virus”, and anyone who passes as Chinese (or, really, of East or Southeast Asian descent) in the western world has been Othered and, in some cases, physically assaulted, violently denying them of their sense of self.
The natural extension of this experiment would be for me to work with, say, five different directors from five varying backgrounds in ethnicity and gender self-identification, and ask them each to cast their version of the play as they see fit.
Decolonisation is deconstructing our understanding of the choices we have to make, and making them.
How can we embody the possibilities/impossibilities of decolonisation through dance?
This raises the question of whether theatre pieces that engage with race as a concept should direct audiences towards particular kinds of arguments. And if there are inexplicit arguments about diverse casting and performance in this imagined piece, will they be evident to audiences?
They gasp, grasping for air. Resisting arrest. They collapse.
Today, we're going on an adventure. We'll explore foreign countries, sail across rough waters, meet a few interesting characters, and, perhaps, experience the fullness of life.
The primary aim of this theatre is to allow audiences to confront, engage with, and overcome their ignorance and fears about “others.”