I made another thing but it is Logince (the first time I write this shit.. ever?)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18908254/chapters/44884582 It was inspired by a song from the musical ‘‘Rent’‘, called ‘‘Take me or leave me’‘ and has three chapters (and I have got the last one halfway done already!)

Logan narrowed his eyes as he saw Roman offer the barkeeper a hand, the two already lightheartedly joking as the latter handed him a drink and spilled a bit. The nerd bit down onto his bottom lip, the bruised skin throbbing and turning from a faint pink into a more prominent and darker shade.

He has had enough of the charmer he was dating, of him making his blood boil and palms sweat. It felt as if his heart was the only thing racing in this relationship and it seemed driven by the fear of being replaced, of not being good enough for the confident and painfully flirtatious actor. Without realising that he had already stepped forward to the two handsome man who were having too much of a good time with their charismatic chuckles and light touches. Those touches were coming from Roman and Logan had a difficult time acknowledging it once more. The thespian would never be satisfied with him only, would he?Slam!Logan's slender, pale arm, covered in a navy blue sleeve of his button up dress shirt slid over to Roman's hand that held the drink eagerly. He gripped his wrist and pulled him closer.''What do you think you are doing'', he hissed.He could not bring himself to have more patience. It was not the first time. It had been various occasions before and this time it was just the top of it all. If Roman was good at one thing, then it was melodrama and topping himself again and again.

Logan did not know how he was still surprised but it left a deep cleft within him and it felt as if Roman's flirtatious eyes glancing at yet another person just bore daggers through his heart and it squeezed him in anguish.Logan wrapped his slender fingers over Roman's warm wrist. Even their skin tones were so different. Roman was tanned, seemed bronze  and  their body temperature contrasted like a sudden clash. It was an icy force shocking through Roman's veins as the abandoned finger pads tapped onto the inside of his wrist and made him shift his attention. The source of pure charisma seemed oblivious as always and simply downplayed the whole incident, making Logan swallow down his emotions. A jingly laugh rattled the jealous pit in his stomach and he felt a sudden wave of nausea and bile biting into him as the warm green of his now-husband's curious orbs dove into the distraught storm of his steel blue orbs.They were not valid. There was no reason, no cause and no justification for him to feel like this, to be this jealous and demanding, right?But damn, this was their wedding! Could he not be a little more decent and maybe flirt with him instead? Would he ever be happy with Logan only or was the latter damned to be the second in place, the warm, safe spot in bed that Roman would be happily accepted back in no matter the escapades previously.Roman's lips twitched from a playful smirk into a slight scowl. It felt as if the sunshine was blocked by a rainy cloud that demanded to dominate the weather now instead and started darkening the sky by covering the sun and isolating it for itself.Logan wanted to go back, wanted to have a dance with his handsome man on supposedly their most fanciful and happy day in their lives but instead, he was standing in front of Roman whose mood seemed to sour as he put down his drink, his white button-up wrinkling up like his nose as if curling in disgust.

But he was trapped in this situation and he was sick of swallowing down his feelings, letting the other trample on his freedom and his expression because he did not take him serious. Logan deserved as much.He returned the scowl and pushed the hand away, out of reach of the barkeeper and the man got the hint, quickly inching away.''Can't you keep it to a limit, once? Just show me some decency on our wedding day. This ceremony and venue is so fanciful for your sake and you cannot even appreciate it for a few minutes? We got wedded minutes ago, Roman!''The thespian sighed and freed his wrist with a sudden jerk of his hand and he pushed himself from the counter he was leaning against during his conversation. His casual and comfortable posture changed as he straightened and his shoulders seemed to bulk up. Logan could not have cared less as the burning fire in his pit did away with the gutting tug within him and the roaring nausea. He just wanted to have peace and not be betrayed in his deepest trust that he foolishly put into someone who did not appreciate it, did not appreciate him.Roman stepped away and cleared his throat as the calm curiosity in his eyes compiled into a fierce fury of defiance. The green seemed to swirl into a compromised forest green''Every single day, I walk down the street I hear people say "Baby," so sweet

Ever since puberty everybody stares at me! Boys, girls, I can't help it, baby!''The wholesome, engulfing voice of Roman's singing caught Logan and seemed to steal his breath once more. It felt as if these sounds rendered him defenseless as he suddenly felt all his anger vanish. His body seemed empty and the sweet temptation of giving in, forgiving him, swayed him and made him go weak in his knees.

But he refused.As Roman inched closer, attempting to engulf him in a hug with his apologetic yes shallow arms, he backed away and let the thespian grab the air as he turned on his heel to face his prey. Feisty as always.''So be kind, and don't lose your mind: just remember that I'm your baby!''Logan shook his head, clenching his fist as the last sentence, the last word in particular drove his rage back, this time more like him and his character. It was calculated and calm, it was direct and queerforward just as he believed his character to be.''Take me for what I am''. he demanded and Roman started moving around him, twirling lazily around him as he circled the nerd. The red vest hugged his torso as his body danced around the room as if he tried to distract Logan from the issue by showing off his body and qualities. He was a win for Logan.''Take me for what I am'', he purred as he lifted Logan's chin despite Roman being about an inch smaller than his usually stoic and composed husband. He graced the pale and cool skin of his face as he stroke the chin with his caramel fingers, movements smoother than pooling honey as the words dripped from his lips like the sweetness that wanted to convince Logan, coax him into moving along to Roman's pace.''Who I was meant to be~ And if you give a damn, take me baby, or leave me''Logan's eyes widened, the calm steel suddenly filled with a darkening realisation as Roman sang the part into his face. Was it just him or did the room suddenly become cold and frozen? He stepped from his husband's poisonous temptation once more, fighting how much his body seemed to want him, ''A tiger in a cage can never see the sun- This diva needs her stage baby, let's have fun!

You are the one I choose. Folks would kill to fill your shoes. You love the lime light too now, baby. So be mine and don't waste my time, cryin' "Oh honey bear are you still my, my, my baby?" ''Roman jumped onto the stage, grabbing a microphone as he started singing. The wedding guests started looking around in confusion, some staring at Logan for an explanation. His family stared at him and he could feel the dreading look in Patton's concerned eyes that were just as blue as his but in such a different way.The nerd adjusted his glasses.This game could be played by two and he was done with Roman putting on solo shows, no matter how nice his affection was. It was time to really stand up to him and not back down with a compromise this time. For the sake of himself, the lawyer needed to be just as professional and persistent as he tended to be in court.This was his turn now and he would write the rules.He grabbed a headset from the band and joined his husband on the stage. Maybe this would be their last performance together but that did not count now, it did not matter because right now, Logan was fighting for himself and his validity that he had struggled with all along. As Patton and Emile had taught him, it was important to put himself first and recognise his emotions as justified and important. He would finally stop backing down on this subject and instead insist.''No way, can I be what I'm not. But hey, don't you want your man hot? Oh, don't fight, don't loose your head 'cause every night who's in your bed?'That was it.Logan clicked his headset's microphone to ''on'' and stepped to Roman's field of sight who had previously focused on the audience rather than his own husband he wanted to address in the first place. Was he even talking to him?

Roman's usual grin of self-assurance and superiority tried hard to convince the others of the feelings he was supposed to feel to match his words but Logan was having none of it and he started his part of the discourse.''It won't work. I look before I leap, I love margins and discipline.

I make list in my sleep, baby~ What's my sin?''It was his turn to lean and he made sure to actually reach out to the other as he sung and took Roman's hands. He let their fingers intertwine and the soft smile of Roman returned, taking over his lips and softening the narrow persistence on his face. Logan moved in, leaning down and dipping the other as he arched his back with perfect precision as if he had measured and exercised this very move for years just to perform it in this context.

He saw a pink dust cover Roman's cheeks, the tanned skin turning a traitorous rosè shade as Logan held him close. Maybe the thespian should value him more, should make amends and actually be grateful for being capable of actually impressing a solemn and stoic mystery such as Logan.

It was a fleeting thought but it held on long enough for Roman to admit that he was more serious about their relationship than it seemed.''Never quit, I follow through'', Logan continued and suddenly Roman was back to his feet but in his mind, he was still swept off by the mesmerising blue storm in his husband's eyes, by the mix of gentleness and fierceness in these bold yet graceful movement. A twirl made him rotate around his own axis like the earth he was and he ended up  catching his movements by arranging his feet in a stable position on the ground. He had arrived at the end of Logan's slender arms, their fingers intertwined still but it was the only connection their shared.''I hate mess but I love you. What do with my impromptu baby?''Logan's voice resonated within him and something stirred in him, a familiar but at the same time all too dreaded feeling bubbled up inside of him and as much as he wanted to be back against Logan's chest, he also wanted to run from him, run for his life and pride because this was all he had.''So be wise, 'cause this man satisfies'', Logan continued and Roman needed to face that he was still struck in his state of breathlessness after the dance and the sudden bold words. The refreshing change seemed to revitalise his attraction to the usually composed man whose grip was all to keep him in the dream-like state of their .. argument? Right, they were still arguing, somehow. ''You've got a prize so don't compromise: You're one lucky baby''Roman nodded carefully, his voice stuck in his voice and his realisation clawing at the back of his throat as every word of explanation died on his tongue and left the bitter after taste of knowing that he had messed up big time and he started understanding why.Logan's fingers slipped from him and the nerd stepped back once more, increasing their distance and it felt like a slap to his handsome face as reality pulled him from his thought. His lips were slightly parted but Logan had been more than right with his assumption and this sight was the desired empirical evidence the slender man enjoyed so much.''Take me for what I am'', Logan demanded, the singing sound of his voice fading as his words slipped into Roman's blood stream like a deafening numbness that spread within him. It felt like pure anaesthetics and the tingling excitement of Logan's confidence and his own adoration of it betrayed him.The prince owed his husband a decision. It was cowardice or courage, fight or flight. It was all he had avoided before.He regained his composure and straightened his back as he locked their eyes together, his green eyes shining in sincerity. A sudden emotion flashed over him like a quick lightening and it brought Logan's attention to him as he twisted the ends of his lips into a weak smile before falling back into a helpless expression.It was now or never. How would he decide?

Movement as Metaphor

I grew up dancing. In fact, in the 30 years I’ve been alive the amount of years I devoted to dancing is longer than the amount of years I haven’t so it’s still difficult for me not to identify a huge part of myself as such. And even though I no longer get paid to be on stage, I will forever be a dancer. 

But what does it mean to be a “dancer”? Is it when one performs for an audience that the work, and subsequently the dancer, become actualized? 

When a longtime dancer takes his/her first leap in deciding against their professional career path  (”quitting”) there is a period of time where they go through withdrawal from performance, withdrawal from being watched, withdrawal from being “seen”, withdrawal from expression. A huge part of a dancers identity feels shattered and caged and it is this “unseeing” that easily removes them from the title of “dancer”. One of the most fulfilling moments a dancer can experience is the fleeting moment of vitality and bliss that they encounter on stage...when the blazing lights beats upon their glistening sweat, when the audience is pitch black and their body becomes an antenna. The dancer communicates with their fellow dancers and the audience. They feed off of their counterparts on-stage and they feel the presence of hundreds of people watching. The power of the collective becomes larger than life. 

“Dance is communication” - Martha Graham

In order for a dancer to communicate, they must be completely precise in their movement and incredibly in-tune with their body. The studio is a place where a dancer finds precision within themselves. It’s a space for self-exploration and in a sense, a space where a dancer is in total competition with themselves. “They are striving to be the dancer that they ultimately want to become”, as Graham states in the video below. The studio space is for refinement, constant, exhausting repetition for the sole purpose of achieving perfection. “Perfection” in this case is for the body to achieve precise clarification and for the body to communicate in it’s fullest capacity ultimately, for its audience. But, it’s in this achievement of clarity (technique) where freedom is found in control. 

The studio has an intrinsic personal value to the dancer. It is a place where they can safely explore, open-up and be vulnerable without anyone in sight, and in this way, this is a sacred ritual for a dancer. In 1957, Martha Graham made a short film titled “A Dancers World”, which happened to be filmed in an isolated space of the studio. In it, she describes what it means to be a dancer in practice, study, and performance alongside experts of her company dancing different pieces from their repertoire that further illustrate her philosophy. 

*Side note: It’s also really entertaining to watch because you get to see just how eccentric Graham really was. 

“Performance” specifically for the dancer on the other hand, is a different realm of possibility and responsibility (responsibility in the sense that the dancer(s) must communicate with ultimate precision to its audience in order for it to be effective, emotionally resonant, and culturally relevant).  It’s interesting to point out the metaphor here for the modern world today: the “dancer” doesn’t exist without performance (but only when they’ve polished or finely curated their method of communication), so their identity as “dancer” doesn’t exist unless they’re seen by others.  It’s safe to say we feel this way in our own notion of the “self”. We perform our identity to others in order to understand it for ourselves, for self-validation. (See term definition: “Performativity” here and Judith Butler describe “gender is performative” here).  Today we all live in a world where everyone is performing in public, constantly putting themselves on display, commodifying themselves through their self(ies) while simultaneously being surveilled (Perform or Else, McKenzie, 2001; Singularities; Dance In the Age of Performance, Andre Lepecki, 2016). 

The idea of “performance” is a hefty topic these days and there is something to be said about comparing both the dancer’s world to that of modern day existence. It should be less about the aesthetic beauty of the dancer (or the person who uploads their most interesting photo) and more about the collective meaning that dancers exude to their audience. It’s within that relation where freedom and a sense of catharses for all participants can be found. 

To insist on the social function of the theatre as a social gathering space, and to acknowledge that the dancer’s labor is inseparable from the conditions of the world ... dancers and audience all produce, and are produced by a shared bio and necropolitical nervous system. 

Singularities; Dance In the Age of Performance, Andre Lepecki, 2016

Dance's ephemerality suggests the possibility of an escape from the regimes of commodification and fetishization in the arts. Its corporeality can embody critiques of representation inscribed in bodies and subjects. Its precariousness underlines the fragility of contemporary states of being.

Dance (Whitechapel: Documents of Contemporary Art), Andre Lepecki, 2012

For the dancer though, performance of movement is so much of how a dancer receives their ultimate high, their validation of existence, their heightened experience of life through their intense relation with the audience. In a way, dance could not exist without its audience. Many would argue that art itself can not be considered art without its audience:

Sartre’s existential aesthetics is concerned mainly with how the artist exercises his/her own freedom and how the artist offers the audience an opportunity to exercise their freedom. What separates existential aesthetics from a theory of beauty that is concerned with the creative freedom of the individual is that existential aesthetics wants to do something with both the artist’s and audience’s freedom in the sense that what a work of art should aim to do is inspire a certain free action on the part of the spectator. Therefore the artwork involves a freedom that is not just that of the artist, but also that of the audience. 

Elijah Alexander Guerra, Sartre Existentialism and Aesthetics, pg. 14

But some dancers venimenytly disagree, and with opposition comes counter-culture. Being Watched is a book the captures Yvonne Rainer’s famous rebellion against dancing for the audience’s sake, a rebellion that nicely coincides with the revolution of the 60′s and 70′s. Rainer is significant not only as a choreographer but as a symbol of questioning spectatorship. 

The image above is part of a series photographed by Warner Jepson. In the cover image above, the dancer turns away from the camera, raising an arm slightly behind her. Her hand is out-turned and blurry quite literally suggesting: stop looking at me, I am not meant for you! This notion of course, not only holds meaning for the dancer, but for the dancer as female. 

In her dance and performances of the 1960s, Yvonne Rainer famously transformed the performing body -- stripped it of special techniques and star status, traded its costumes and leotards for T-shirts and sneakers, asked it to haul mattresses or recite texts rather than leap or spin. 

Being Watched, Carrie Lambert-Beatty, 1999

Additionally, women are still the symbols of ballet in the popular imagination, and those who create the work (choreographers) are dominated by men, thus many famous classical ballets are pure examples of the male gaze.   

But if women are still the symbols of ballet in the popular imagination, chances are it is as ballerinas performing dazzling, demanding steps that were devised for them by men. When it comes to choreography, at least at most major companies, ballet remains overwhelmingly a man’s world. Breaking the Glass Slipper: Where Are the Female Choreographers?, NYTimes

The dance realms of 19th-century ballet were harems (sometimes literally, as in one all-female scene of “Le Corsaire,” where odalisques and concubines dance on point with flowers in happy captivity). From the Romantic ballet, initiated by “La Sylphide” in 1836 to the classical creations of Marius Petipa in late-19th-century St. Petersburg (“The Sleeping Beauty”), feminine loveliness was the climate amid which a man looked, traveled and found love. Of Women, Men and Ballet in the 21st Century, NYtimes

See also: Dance Magazine, Does NYCB Have A Gambling Problem?

So, is the art of dance not “dance” unless someone is watching? What does it mean if a dancer must be validated by someone else’s eye? Is it a coincidence that dance has been historically dominated by white men, while constantly seeking their validation as an expert? If I dance in a studio alone, without another body in sight and feel the tension and release of my muscles, the sensitively my skin feels against it’s bones, the suspension of time when I jump in the air, the pure expression of movement against the notes of music, where does the definition of “dance” then lie? 

Dance, in its essence, lies in the sensitivity of the body and in its pure movement, where the body becomes the antenna, transmitting signals to their surroundings. But if we think of dance purely as “movement”, then all humans are dancers. Movement is one of the many ways we identity each other, the way one walks, sits, stands, and even the way one listens is very telling if you’re paying enough attention. And so, I leave this post with a final quote from the famed choreographer, Ohad Naharin, describing his revolutionary modern technique known as the GaGa technique. What I adore so much about this explanation is not only its post-modern approach in thinking about dance, but that it focuses on the paradoxical notion of movement and thus, the paradoxical experience the dancer is constantly going through. He leaves out the notion of an audience completely, it is only about the way in which one chooses to be present in their movement and in this way, they are most present in life. This isn’t just an explanation of dance, this is a metaphor for existence. 

"Gaga challenges multi-layer tasks. We are aware of the connection between effort and pleasure, we are aware of the distance between our body parts, we are aware of the friction between flesh and bones, we sense the weight of our body parts, yet our form is not shaped by gravity... we are aware of where we hold unnecessary tension, we let go only to bring life and efficient movement to where we let go . . . We are turning on the volume of listening to our body, we appreciate small gestures, we are measuring and playing with the texture of our flesh and skin, we might be silly, we can laugh at ourselves. We connect to the sense of  "plenty of time”, especially when we move fast. We learn to love our sweat, we discover our passion to move and connect it to effort; We discover both the animal that we are and the power of our imagination. We are "body builders with soft spines". We learn to appreciate understatement and exaggeration, we become more delicate and we recognize the importance of the flow of energy and information through our body in all directions. We learn to apply our force in an efficient way and we learn to use "other" forces.

We discover the advantage of soft flesh and sensitive hands, we learn to connect to groove even when there is no music. We are aware of people in the room and we realize that we are not at the center of it all. We become more aware of our form since we never look at ourselves in a mirror; there are no mirrors. We connect to the sense of the endlessness of possibilities.

Yielding is constant while we are ready to snap...

We explore multi-dimensional movement, we enjoy the burning sensation in our muscles, we are aware of our explosive power and sometimes we use it. We change our movement habits by finding new ones, we can be calm and alert at once. We become available . . ."  - Ohad Naharin