Vaison-la-Romaine

Rave and ritual. What happens when the dance takes hold of our limbs and the very folds of our brains—when we want nothing more than to keep dancing, reaching higher, sinking deeper—all or nothing? In Bern, during the Steps festival last March, eight young dancers from Shechter II danced with reckless abandon, as if the final day had arrived. They dance their souls out shaking the worries from their minds. Huddled together in a group, they bustle about before breaking free like birds hatching from eggs—stretching their wings into the air and taking flight. Arms raised and hands open, they shake themselves toward some higher power, as if hoping for mercy for their trembling bodies. Yet the beat drives them onward—into fleeting embraces, into hints of circle dances from the southern ...