Well spoken, other bloggers. Thank you so much, Sarah Michelson - for an amazing dance. The performers were fantastic and great fun to watch.

Thank you, also, fellow Wednesday night audience members, for the fine, engaged company. And thanks, Nate, for being such a hot date.

I'd like to know more about Sarah's intent and her expectations of audience reaction. While I gather that we weren't really supposed to leave our seats, the parts of the performance staged in the little room were intriguing. What did she mean by putting them in an area where only about 15% of the seated audience might see them? I truly appreciated the surprise, and I felt proud of my fellow audience members for being so proactive, and for making active choices to define what their experience of Daylight would be.

I don't want to be Henry Art Gallery-centric, or turn my response into a plug for 150 Works of Art, but the connections between the performance and the exhibition are strong and interesting. Both seem to question the art-audience relationship, both throw traditional ways of staging into question, and through these upheavals - both bring viewers to form stronger relationships with the work.

The performance raised questions for me about the differences and similarities in visual art presentation and performance. When we (at the Henry) have art that begs to be touched, seen from many different angles, or crossed in an unconventional way – if that is not the artist's intent– we put up stanchions, signs, or post gallery attendants near the work. Where do you find an equivalent in performance other than with the proscenium stage? And when we exhibit art that is supposed to be viewed while walking through it, on it, or into it – audiences need a little extra support or knowledge to feel comfortable. I know On The Boards audiences are sophisticated, and don't require coddling, obviously – when the audience figured out that there were performances all over the place, they took action and sought them out. How can audiences in general be expected to behave traditionally when faced with (gosh, I hate this phrase but it totally fits) challenging dance? When confronted with unexpected, delightfully confounding staging – shouldn't we respond in an unexpected, delightfully confounding way?

I can't wait to hear about the rest of the run!

Previous bloggers are correct to note how difficult it is to write cogently and concisely about this show.  You really should see it.  The live music and dj are great, and music gives what little narrative arc the piece has (and needs).  The dancing is beautiful, engaging, airy and mournful.  Lighting and stage design: well worth the long effort they involved.  You'll have to see it.  I hope the company was okay with the audience participation; they seemed to accept it with good grace during the show.  Even more, I hope the company is proud of this work.  It leaves you different than when you arrived.  You should probably go see it to understand.

The piece challenges our ideas of how space is arranged, how audience and performers interact, why we dance, blah, blah, blah.  (You know, all those things people write about dance and performance art as if everyone knows what they mean.)  But while some artists who attempt this challenge resemble a 5-year old endlessly asking "why?", Michelson gives something that is both de-centering and nourishing (I'm sure everyone knows what I mean by that... If not, well then, you really should go see the show.)  Nate Lippens wishes he'd seen more of the main dance; the piece resembles real life: you never know where you're supposed to be paying attention.  Everything tempts. 

As I look back over these comments, I think my first two sentences are the most true.  Go see this show and then try to write about it.  I loved it, but it remains confusing to me and I'd love to hear more ideas.  Did I mention that you should go see it?