© Bruce Goodman 6 June 2015
Iris was one of the most renowned ballerinas of her time. Crowds flocked to her performances. Tickets to see her sold on the black market for astronomical prices. Iris could dance with a bunch of clodhoppers and make it look stunning.
Swan Lake, The Nutcracker, Giselle, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Don Quixote, Romeo and Juliet, Firebird, La Bayadere, Coppelia, La Sylphide, Peter Pan, Le Sacre du Printemps… Iris had danced them all. She had raised the bar. She had driven the standard of production to new heights. There wasn’t a country that hadn’t lauded her with medals.
And now she was to give her final performance. Tickets sold out months ahead. The stage was set. The overture began.
Iris entered. She wandered aimlessly around the stage. She looked at this and that. At one point she spied the audience. She gave a little wave. She meandered a little further here, a little there. She wandered off. The music petered out. No one clapped. Audience members were either angry or in tears. The theatre offered a refund.
It was a spectacular end to a stunning career. She had danced the most profound dance ever.
Weave a Web 
This is beautiful, in a surreal way, indeed a profound dance.
(reminds me of a story I was told–but do not recall, because I was only three years old—of my first dance recital, when I walked out on stage in my tutu and ballet slippers, and was dumbstruck by all the lights and the big audience, so just stood there, mesmerized. Finally, I probably realized I owed the crowd something, so I did a quick somersault and ran off into the wings. Apparently there was uproarious laughter.)
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Ha ha!! I trust you were wearing knickers….
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Actually really profound! I didn’t see that end coming at all Bruce.
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Thanks Pauline. The ending surprised me as I typed!
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Timing is everything, both for entrances and exits. Poor Iris.
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Yes, poor Iris. She’s very sensitive – you have to go on tip-toes around her…
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What an interesting ending. Oddly strange. Did Iris crack? Was she weary of dance? At loose ends and confused at the end of great career? I liked this, Bruce.
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Thanks Kate. I guess there are some answers to questions that we fiction writers never know!
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That is most profound, Bruce. It reminds me of Iris Murdoch’s last novel. I don’t remember its title, and never read it because the reviewers slated it and couldn’t make sense of it.
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I don’t remember such a novel either – I was always a fan of Iris.
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I looked it up Bruce. It was ‘Jackson’s Dilemma’ – you might find this link interesting http://www.nature.com/news/2004/041129/full/news041129-4.html – I certainly did, given my own conviction.
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Thanks for that link Derrick – I shall certainly pursue it. I’m off to bed now, but certainly in the morning – dv!
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Iris Murdock’s story was so sad…to be such a wonderful philosopher/thinker, then lose one’s mind, in the end.
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No matter how close to yours another’s steps have grown
In the end there is one dance you’ll do alone
Jackson Browne
Good story.
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Thanks Simon. It’s a dance I’d like to be there for when it happens! 😦 🙂
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:)(:
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It is a profound, sobering tale. The audience is enamoured by the art, not the artist.
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Ah! Succinctly put – damn it. Even more succinct than me!
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Glad we’ve ‘re-connected’, Bruce – I’ve missed your stories!
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Yes, I’ve had trouble finding you! And then I saw you’d commented somewhere. Aha! thought I!
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What a surprise. Probabably her most talked about performance!
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Indeed! (And thanks for the jokes on your blog! Cheers a dull day!)
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