| When Dance Tells a Story | On Taehyung's Art of Performance

Think of dance as more than simply movement. Think of it rather as a conversation. The body in dance, in motion, in stillness, conveys an idea, a thought, a feeling. A story. Dance at its best aspires to storytelling+

We think of the body in dance as a painter would a canvas, a medium to convey meaning. But that's not all. The body in dance must not only convey but actively construct meaning. Many can be perfect canvases, hitting the beats perfectly, unthinkingly, following choreography, but+

only a few capture the imagination. We limit dance to the body in extremity-twisted, bent, stretched-of how agile it is, how it can morph itself in ways we cant. But the body in dance must aspire to something even greater, something more profound. This is where Taehyung comes in+

I think of his final Singularity performances. It is one song and yet he gives us three completely different interpretations of it with each performance. This is where dance becomes more than mere motion. It becomes something greater. This is where dance becomes storytelling.+

Day 1: Violence. A story of control. He is vicious in the way he moves, all sharp and hard angles, his movements sure and firm. Flashes of violence pass his face as he moves with the confidence of someone in control. It is interesting because the lyrics are about losing yourself+

and being possessed, "have i lost myself or gained you". But here he is the one in control, and the audience is at his mercy. He controls the audience and their desire. He becomes "the silver lake" in which you lose yourself into, in a trance. You become the subject of the song+

he rewrites this song and makes it about the audience. When he smirks, it is not to please, not as an invitation, but a promise, a warning, the smirk of a man dancing not for you, but to display his own power, smirking in amusement at how easy it is. Every gasp in Singularity is+

snatched out of us. He remains in control while you're played with. He glides across the stage while you remain transfixed. Most Singularity performances are quiet, punctuated with sudden screams and gasps. You have no control. He takes that away the moment he opens his eyes.

Day 2: Pain. The control slips away. Day 2 Singularity is a song of fragility and vulnerability. Where in day 1 he moved like a god displaying his power over helpless spectators, on day 2, he stumbles in pain, movements sudden and jerky as he sings about "the pain getting worse"+

The confidence breaks, the mask slips, and he falls down singing "what was I supposed to do back then". Day 2 Singularity is a song of regret, of pain, of looking for comfort and assurance, what was I supposed to do back then, something cracks, the control gradually slips away. +

The fall wasn't part of the choreo. This is just a choice he makes as he reinterprets the song and creates another persona for himself, from the god in day 1 to the fallen man in day 2, he awakes in pain, having fallen, and ends the song on his knees, in forgiveness. +

Day 3: Defeat/Hope. His grip on reality further shatters. The stumbling continues, his face once violent, no longer contorts in pain but becomes softer, afraid, melancholic. The body becomes weaker but carries on, his movements mirroring a struggle to regain a sense of control+

He moves like a man seeking redemption, body at once aggressive and then suddenly timid. A man numb, movements almost drunken, yet still grasping for control as on the final day when he nearly falls to the ground, he gets back up again. (Again not part of the choreo. All him.)+

He doesn't ask us anymore if he could have done things differently, he seems to have resigned, things would have always happened this way. The control is lost, the ensuing pain will pass, he sings "spring will come someday" and he gets back up again as he stumbles. There's hope.+

In these three days, he gives us a different story each time. Of vicious sensuality and control (day 1), of brokenness (day 2), of defeat and finding hope (day 3). Singularity, as a song, is all of that. And he brings out the lyrical depth through the way he performs, uncovering+

the song a little each time. He doesn't mindlessly follow a set choreo, he invents. There is an intelligence to him and the way he approaches dance. He's an intelligent performer. Both the canvas and the paintbrush. Actively rewriting the song each time to tell a different story+

Three different interpretations in three days. His movements are never random, always intelligent. The spell is never broken. This is dance. More than mere motion. A conversation. Remember, dance at its best is storytelling. And no one tells stories quite as good as Kim Taehyung.