Silence.

An empty stage.

White floors, white walls…in the center of the room, six bowls of paint: brilliant red, blue, yellow, orange, purple and green. Six dancers each painted white from head to foot lay against the paper, their bodies a universe waiting to be discovered.

 Stillness.

A soft rhythm builds, from four musicians. Deep rumble, strong beat; motion begins. The first sound.

The audience, seated around the room, watches as six more dancers enter, strong young muscles holding balance, eyes focused on the horizon, passing through the gaze of the audience. Slowly, so slowly that at first the motion might be an illusion, the dancers move toward the center, and the beat responds, becoming stronger.

And now a dancer sees the red paint below him; he is first puzzled, then amazed, then delighted.  He carefully reaches his hand down to the paint, and touches it -- the first sensation outside himself. He lifts the hand, one finger up to his eyes, and sees himself transformed, from white to color. A world of possibilities is born on his face.

His partner sees this change and puts her forehead slowly on his finger; she starts, moves away, and he smiles, the first humor as he sees the dot of red on her face. She understands quickly; moves to the yellow pot and lifts a handful of sunshine up, puts it on his chest and runs off, playfully.

The other dancers have seen the miracle. Perception, sensation, difference, color, connection: they join in, each one with a new experience, the discovery of color and each other.

Now the music takes on new urgency, new complexity, new energy; guitars, keyboards, drums, and exotic instruments begin to drive the dancers.

One couple carefully paints symbols on each other; another playfully smears many colors from top to toe. One couple uses only red, and they dip their hair into the paint; another couple moves color around, lacing paint onto the floor in long, flowing curves. One dancer moves quickly through the others, swirling and picking up a little of every color; another dancer carefully paints her toenails alone.

The audience sees the birth of language, of conflict; the need to share, to be different, to explore, to combine, to maintain purity, to find meaning. To celebrate, to laugh.

To love. In the simplicity of this dance.

The music lifts them, blows them around; they leap and throw their arms, and the music responds with splashes of sound.

And now the dancers discover – the audience!

Moving carefully, with wide gaze and pure smile, a dancer approaches one of the audience and shows her the color she has discovered, her long hair red at the tips, her fingers bright green. She offers a touch of her color. The touch is accepted, and returned; the dancer watches as a new shape appears on her arm, painted there by her friend in the audience.

Other dancers compete for the watchers' attention; they show off their motion and balance, their color, and one falls into a pot of paint, spins around like a clown, falls, spreads a rainbow across the floor. Teasing, tempting, playing.

Other dancers see the long, white stretches of canvas against the wall, and place great visions of themselves, the place, the feeling, the sound on the canvas. They fling paint up onto the whiteness, and shapes emerge, stories and ancient tales of innocent times.

Dancers move in groups now, more complex, faster…more connected, and more distant. There is conflict over white space, over color space, over paint, over partners. Cascades of music crash over them, and the pure white stage is covered in color, shapes, and chaos.

The music reaches a height, a resolution of pure noise into harmony, and the dancers collapse across the floor, arms and legs spread. They twitch, and are still.

A stage full of color, and human form.

Silence.