There is a problem with language.

There is a problem with language. In finding the right words and ways of describing the work we are doing. The problem is that there is so much language being used that it has been rendered almost meaningless.

Part of my job is to write about the work, and to write about it while it’s being made – to write about it for media, for email blasts and Facebook events. To find ways of describing, hinting and enticing. To use the limited space to tell the reader something that will make them curious, excited enough to come out to the show.

I don’t have any problem with the persuasive nature of this writing – I want to be able to articulate what excites me and the people I work with. This articulation is crucial for contemporary and conceptual work, since there is much resistance and fear that surrounds work that to me is completely about a connection with and respect for the audience. And I want people to see the work, because I think it’s important. And I know that if people don’t come it’s harder to do the work. The box office is by no means the end-all here, the art is (that’s why I like working here), but it needs to be reckoned with. A dance company is not the cheapest thing to keep going.

All that to say, I don’t mind writing with responsibility to entice.

But it has become very difficult to find words that have any meaning left.

A few months ago I was riding in a truck with Trevor Schwellnus, a dear friend (and scenographer for Double Bill #1) and he was wondering about the point at which we would give up on the English language since every word would have been used as a lie. (He blogs about the conversations here.)

So, this sentence, from the Facebook event: “Double Bill #1 is a daring confrontation with the unknown from two of Toronto’s most exciting and innovative choreographers.”

I think it’s true. Michael has made programming choices that bring the company face to face with “I don’t know” – which is where art making should come from, but is brave and rare in a cultural climate of scarcity (more I think on this climate later.) And I get excited about seeing a new show by both Michael and Ame – and they are both, with all their differences, innovating in their processes and relationship with the form of dance.

But when I read the sentence and especially imagine others reading it, it feels full of words that everybody uses and so have become empty and meaningless.

It was replaced for the email blast with: “Double Bill #1 pushes at convention and brings risk, innovation and serious play to the Premiere Dance Theatre. A performance event not to be missed.”

Which I also like, and says many of the same things and some new things while avoiding a few of the clichés (“two of Toronto’s most…”)

I’m not sure there’s a single solution for this. Having work live up to its publicity might do something to bring meaning back to the language we use to talk about it seems like a first step.

Also longer form writing (e.g. this blog) in which idea’s can be teased out seem like another aspect of helping. I think a lot about what has happened with music blogs, where critics and committed audience have an active relationship of talking about the music they love. See Carl Wilson’s Zoilus for a great example. Recently performance maker and writer Chris Dupius has started writing on line and Kelly Nestruck, now the theatre critic for the Globe has a blog here.

I hope that with in these longer forms, less restrained by the history of the blurb and lies of repetition, we can find ways of talking about the work that are not empty and meaningless – both the work and the audience deserve it.