a code of clouds
A dark cloud, walks into a room.
This is Melinda Ring’s working title from an earlier iteration of c lo u d. At a studio visit on July 30, 2016, she is wearing a white T-shirt from the Bureau for the Future of Choreography, with black lettering inside a Venn diagram: “life,” “death,” and “dance.” The T-shirt shares an odd resemblance to the work I’m about to see. Piles of paper blankets are nestled in the corner.
It is late afternoon, everyone has returned from lunch. There is slowness to the thick passing of minutes.