I have for so long been trying to get away from messages or obvious meaning in my work. And not to be condescending to writers, but I always think writers work with something more tangible than dancers do in terms of words and what they mean. For me, dance is free of the literal. But then I ran into a story that stopped me in my tracks because I again realized there was real power in words. I see "Artificial Nigger" as a journey by two characters who are dubious in every sense of the word. Who are they? What do they really believe? They claim to be Christians, but there is a great deal of anger and resentment and fear in them. Mr. Head actually has a moment where he realizes he is a great sinner in having betrayed Nelson. But then there appears the artificial nigger. A-ha! The artificial nigger, if you accept Mr. Head's religious rationale — the Lord forgives in proportion to our sins — represents a kind of grace. This moment of grace enables Mr. Head and Nelson to heal the rift between them. O'Connor is a believer, a nonironic Catholic. She believes there is this thing called grace, and that grace sometimes hits us between the eyes when we are most debased. She and I may disagree on this, however. And while O'Connor seems to make a connection between religion and race, this story ultimately isn't about race. It's about the dynamic between two people, the grandfather and the grandson. And if it takes a shocking title like "The Artificial Nigger" or my accepting a very casual use of a very hurtful word to get at something about human nature, then I have no qualms about embracing it.
| A quote from dancer Bill T. Jones in Fletcher Roberts' New York Times article "The Sincerest Form of Flannery" (via The Morning News)
posted in articles on February 3, 2004 8:21 AM | t (0)
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