A meditation on the human resemblance to fire.
Body heat fuels livelihood – and yet we still look to constrict ourselves.
Like the flame confined to its corner, preexisting constructs define our psychosomatic expressions.
What does ballet – a self-imposed structure–do other than contain the tangled soul?
Rigidity atrophies defenses against burn out,
and the body wants to flow.
We have the wrong system, so it’s hard to imagine.
One can only hope to rise from the ashes.

This film seeks to embody fire in every element. It begins with the dress, which hangs, tattered and singed, on the dancer's body. The body and the dress are engulfed in a dusty, but potent, red light. The sound of a distorted instrument bleeds in, and at once the dancer's body is ablaze. She is dancing in way you recognize, but don't. Certain gestures feel like they belong to another time, although they disappear as quickly as they were revealed. The flame that is caught by an object must dance until it devours them both. The dancer repeats the same steps, never straying from the space to which she in confined. Consumed by the fire of her own energy, she melts to the ground. We ask then, if this is the fate of humanity.

The dancer is revived. She retraces her steps. She feels into what she has already moved through. Now, there is hope for new love.





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