23 April 2018
1 April 2018
Absinthe
(Caesars Palace, 25 March 2018)
The beauty one admires is born out of violence, competition, and (at least in the popular sense of the term) injustice. It is not only the outcome of competition that some admire but also the act of competing itself. The jungle births beauty while feeling no compulsion to maximise happiness, except for that of the well-heeled tourist to the jungle. Even the macroscopic natural beauty is an outcome of the competition of what would have been regarded as sentient organisms had history been viewed through time-lapse glasses.
Behind each beautiful performer there are tens of thousands of hours of pain and sacrifice. There are also scores of those who had no shortage of dedication but discovered that they lacked raw talent.
The risks that the performers take make the performance intimate. The risk is not only to oneself but also the audience, seated close enough to the stage to cushion the fall of a chair or a performer or to send a gliding roller skater's leg off course. One simultaneously empathises with the performers' sense of responsibility and admires their confidence.
With everyone seated close to the stage, the show has the intimacy of a jazz performance. Some members of the audience would occasionally be selected for a test in zero political correctness and carpe diemism; everyone would pass. All jokes are in poor taste, which only serves to emphasise that hard work is the only taste there is.
The beauty one admires is born out of violence, competition, and (at least in the popular sense of the term) injustice. It is not only the outcome of competition that some admire but also the act of competing itself. The jungle births beauty while feeling no compulsion to maximise happiness, except for that of the well-heeled tourist to the jungle. Even the macroscopic natural beauty is an outcome of the competition of what would have been regarded as sentient organisms had history been viewed through time-lapse glasses.
Behind each beautiful performer there are tens of thousands of hours of pain and sacrifice. There are also scores of those who had no shortage of dedication but discovered that they lacked raw talent.
The risks that the performers take make the performance intimate. The risk is not only to oneself but also the audience, seated close enough to the stage to cushion the fall of a chair or a performer or to send a gliding roller skater's leg off course. One simultaneously empathises with the performers' sense of responsibility and admires their confidence.
With everyone seated close to the stage, the show has the intimacy of a jazz performance. Some members of the audience would occasionally be selected for a test in zero political correctness and carpe diemism; everyone would pass. All jokes are in poor taste, which only serves to emphasise that hard work is the only taste there is.
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