Editor Annie Lu brings a camera lens and an inquisitive eye to the 2023 Capital Dance Championships held in Alexandria, Virginia from August 23rd to August 26th.
Through the sunless sunroof of her car, the Hilton Alexandria Mark Center hotel looms tall. It’s weathered concrete verticality almost disappears against the grey skies. Brutalist in appearance, one can scarcely believe it will house some of the most flamboyant displays these coming nights.
The dresses feel like racehorses in the stables. Waiting within semi-darkness, their heavy impression of opulence weighs them down —only beneath the bright lights is their full potential and brilliance is set free.
Harsh contrast created by spotlight emphasizes all the suggestions of movement. A beautiful sort of stark geometry is created on this dancer’s back and her body seems wanting to burst forth from it’s bejeweled cage.
For our Editor, the sights on the sidelines can be as instense as those on the floor.
At an empty table no human spectators sit, but one lonely robotic observer. It has become a regular at many competitions, this little drone, the only audience member allowed to enter into the action.
Even though it was spotted earlier, the gentle overhead breeze which announces its presence is always a surprise.
Indeed, there is something socially awkward about a drone at a ballroom competition. Perhaps animate modern technology watching developed courtly traditions? Perhaps its rigidly mechanical flight, so banal compared to the swirling artistry of the dancers below?
A dancer is temporarily rendered anonymous by a bright flare.
Year after year, the same faces repeat themselves in this small world. Reputation comes to precede familiarity, and even the unfamiliar become recognizable.
Imagine: A competition without identity!
Taking brief pause to document the maddening beginnings of what is to become a practised ritual.
The time is exactly 8:33AM, Thursday August 24. She was born in the relatively neutral middle-ground of complexion — not blindingly pale nor susceptibly dark. She was also fortunate to have been raised in a diverse and fairly tolerant environment; hardly ever gave much thought to her skin-tone, until this morning at 8:33AM.
“This tan isn’t deep enough, it’s unacceptable”, was her own anxiety that astonished her. And was the opinion even really authentic? Or just an idée reçue from custom, “good sportsmanship”, as we might call it? At this hour, they have muddied into each other on her body which she does not view as beautiful until it blends in.
Peek at an interesting ceremony.
In this competition near the nation’s capital, evening events open with a small military presentation as the audience rises for the national anthem. The proceedings evoke a nocturnal reenactment of grade school memories, when every morning began by the pledge of allegiance.
Only several days after the competition does she notice a stray rhinestone stuck to the sole of her shoe. Who knows how long it has clung there as a decorative parasite, quick to find a new host after it was ousted from its previous one (a hem? a heel? a hairpiece?).
She cannot help but think that this slight iridescent mark betrays her. When half a week’s worth of revelry finally came to an end, she was eager to put some distance between herself and the torrent of excess. Yet now she saw the ballroom had affixed to her very feet just as it continued to occupy her mind.
by Annie Lu
