This is made by Pei-San Ng out of 2,500 match sticks. When I look at it, I think about how interesting it would be to set it on fire. And then I remember this little quip:
“Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your heart or burn down your house you can never tell.” – Joan Crawford.
Isn’t Anna Pavlova lovely? (I tried some magic code to shorten the video so that it would start just when she began to dance, but apparently the code doesn’t like me because it refuses to work. Oh bother)
I was watching a short clip of an interview (long ((enough)) after her death, I believe) with someone who knew who Anna well. The duo ruminated on how she was such a wonderful and unique and captivating dancer, and they touched upon her limited technique and how considering the “dancer’s of today” she might never have made it so big. It had to be mentioned, and though they went back to remark on her passion, her presence, and how there was something different and ineffable about her performance, I couldn’t help but think, how true.
The thought occurs to me most every time I look at dancers of the past. The bar of technique and athleticism and perfection has risen to such an incredible degree throughout the years. I find it dually wonderful and a little sad. Perfection. Passion. What if you have the passion but not the perfection? What if you have the perfection but not the passion? What if there are scores of Anna Pavlova’s (in any art form or field) held back by a lack of textbook all-around perfection? And, while I’m wielding a double edged sword (being a perfectionist and all), what if we’re missing something really great by only looking for “perfect”. Doesn’t that, after a while, get a little boring?