By Sadie Russo – Artist of SYDC
AUGUST 11 2017
“My eyelids flickered open and there were people everywhere, flowing in and out like a wave.”
Sadie writes about her experience of an improvisation we had during rehearsals.
The unmistakable click of light switches echoed around the theatre, until the room only had one source of light.
Thin lines of pure white dangled off the ceiling, giving the room a mere dulled twinkle.
We spread out to the edges of the room and I made my way to the back corner to lower myself to the floor. I relaxed every single muscle in my body as my bones turned to jelly. I closed my eyes and immediately felt warmth flood my body, it was trickling through every nook and cranny, making my whole body unwind completely to the ground, the tension reducing into absolute insignificance.
The music played and every beat echoed frequently throughout my body, melting it like sunshine would do to ice. My eyelids flickered open and there were people everywhere, flowing in and out like a wave. Everyone telling their own story with every movement they made.
The curtain swished gently and stroked my waist. I gently moved to one side, improvising the hard times of the day, the easy bits, my daydreams, my thoughts, my worries, my joys. I swayed from right to left until I found myself leaping around the room, explaining things in a language hardly anyone understands, a language that doesn’t use your mouth at all.
It was as though everything in my way had cleared, so I could do full movements, full jumps, maybe they knew I wasn’t conscious of the things around me, or maybe it was luck. Whatever it was, I let my feet move me, my arms lead me with the rest of my body following behind.
I leapt up, my whole body suspended in mid-air for a split second before I landed back down and melted back to the floor. Twenty minutes felt like five seconds.
What I would give to have those twenty minutes last forever.