Emptiness, un-productivity and their (not so) tiny revolutions
This Thursday, I spent part of my afternoon strolling through the colourful and musical Disco exhibition at La Philharmonie de Paris. An artist date I planned for myself after a long time without one. Like the previous exhibitions on hip-hop, electro or metal (which I missed out on), this immersive display plunged me into the history of this sparkly genre : the music, the tech, the costumes, the political implications, oral histories and all !
It was a fulfilling 2,5 hours that resonated in me far louder than a four to the floor.
Our paths to freedom
On the original video footage, album covers, or sweaty club pictures available, what an aspiration, always, to see free bodies moving. Dance remains, to me, the most easily accessible, attainable path to freedom, to-self expression, to full, present and self-determined existence.
It made me think about this key question: how do we become free and create space for others to be free as well?
Whether I’m writing choreography, working for social entrepreneurship projects, or facilitating events, it’s one of my main concerns. Freedom, my own and others’, is a constant pursuit because of the elating feeling it provides when you graze it, even slightly. I find it essential to creating change. Yet, as I watched the images on display, read some of the key lyrics these artists sang, and marveled at the (often itty bitty) clothes worn by those who made disco, it hit once again.
No one really gives us freedom, ever. We take it — because we can't not have it; because it's a life or death situation; because when others see what it gives us, maybe they'll know how they can get it after realizing they needed it too. All we can do is try to lift the barriers we or others have in front of us on the path to grabbing freedom and never letting it go.
Emptiness and uselessness, our fundamental societal creative forces
In the morning before my visit to the Philharmonie, during a Zoom meeting, the topic of emptiness came up. How we need it for clarity and creativity to emerge. How it can be both scary and exciting. How we must cherish it as a sanctuary for our minds and hearts.
Walking around this exhibition, with its bootyshaking playlist blaring in my ears and its images of endless parties flashing before my eyes, I thought about that conversation again. These pioneers of disco made wonders out of their “empty” time, the time that isn’t work, that doesn’t produce money, that barely yields a final product.
Our "useless," and productive time is so political and potentially radical. The exhibition was such a striking reminder of that. It even made me think that the revolutions born and nurtured in that unproductive time move society so much—possibly even more durably than the shifts developed during our “productive” work time? Because in the end, culture shifts our gaze and way of being so profoundly.
When there's no structure, we allow our selves to fill unlikely breathing spaces with our authenticity and maybe, we make those spaces bigger. The in-between becomes its own, whole entity. It's still on the crossroads of pre-existing worlds, but it's not as confidential, more tangible, not as dream-like. It felt magical to see the movement and the societal transformation led by these black communities emerge through this retrospective.
Fresh eyes on our power to move the needle
And so I reveled in this empty time I carved out for myself. It was a useful and joyful reminder of the subversive nature of movement, of “silly” parties, of community organization, of unconditional love. What a lasting impact these men, women, artists have had on those who followed. It makes me wonder what other spaces creatives who make those empty moments flourish will uncover and birth.