Rain Soaked

NS station, Tilburg

03/05/2024

10:00

Rain, dark clouds, strong cold winds. Feels like 10°

I find it challenging to put this into words, and I have delayed it for quite some time in the hope that I would not write from an emotional perspective. However, no matter how long I waited, it was simply an emotionally charged event.

When I attempted to leave my bag in a locker at Fontys, I was denied a key because I was no longer a student, teacher, or employee there. The woman at the counter informed me that she couldn't just give a key to anyone who walked in. Consequently, I sought out my former head of studies to ask if I could leave my bag there, but it was the May holiday, and the head of studies was nowhere to be found. I felt foolish for not having considered this.

I ended up leaving my belongings in an empty classroom, knowing it was rarely used, especially during the holiday.

Armed with a raincoat, I ventured into the city. Due to the heavy rain, I decided to go to the Emma Passage, a place I had discovered during a bike ride with Wim. I took some photos and looked for a spot to start my work. I set up my phone against a window of a shop to film myself. I took off my raincoat to move freely.

People rushed past me quickly. In the middle of a tunnel, I attempted to capture slowness and resist the hurried energy around me. Initially, it didn't feel unpleasant. However, the first time I slowly extended my leg, an older man in a brown leather vest bumped into me. "Ze staan altijd in de weg!" (translated as: "They're always in the way!") he shouted. At that moment, a teenager took my phone and walked away with it. I chased after him, and he eventually threw it on the ground. The screen was cracked, but it still worked, though filming was no longer possible. I hoped for footage from the beginning of the intervention. During the chase, I left my bag with my very important notebook and a water bottle in the tunnel. I ran, because I was scared that someone would take it with them. Fortunately, it was still there when I returned.

To make myself as narrow as possible, I began working with the basic positions of classical ballet: first position of the arms and legs, second position of the arms and legs, and so on. It continued to rain and blow. Because I had taken off my raincoat before starting, my sweater got wet during the chase. I felt the wind blowing through the damp fabric.

Third position of the arms and legs...

A shop assistant from a clothing store came into the tunnel for a cigarette. I tried to expand my actions and involve this person, but when I approached, they turned away. The shop assistant did not want to be involved. Lacking the courage to insist, I returned to the center of the tunnel and continued my exploration of the positions.

Fourth position of the arms and legs... This position is wider. You extend more three-dimensionally, unlike the previous positions which are more two-dimensional.

As I moved to the next position, I extended my back foot. A woman with an umbrella stumbled over it. "Godverdomme!" she cursed. I apologized, but she walked away without looking back.

Fifth position of the arms and legs... I stood still, thinking.

Two young women stopped and looked at me, talking to each other. "Could it be one of those living statues?"

"No, they usually have nicer costumes."

"That's true, but maybe she's practicing?"

"Does she have to do that here?"

"I don't know?"

Their dialogue encouraged me to keep standing. I looked at them; they looked at me. After a while, the taller one said, "No, nothing is happening here, let's go." Giggling, they walked away, with the smaller one glancing back before disappearing from sight.

I was cold. The moisture from my sweater had reached my skin. But I didn't want to give up. So, I started a new strategy, reintroducing the temps lié, an exercise I had begun a week earlier at the Piushaven. This involved more movement, and I hoped it would warm me up. However, more movement meant more friction and angry looks in the confined space where I stood. I recalled the bike ride with Wim and how I had already felt that if I danced here, I would quickly feel out of place. Today, that feeling was realized. I stood in the way; I moved in the way; I had to get away or confront it head-on. But feeling so misunderstood, I chose to give up after half an hour. And that's how it truly felt.

It felt like giving up. I took my raincoat, put it over my wet sweater, and walked to Fontys. Construction work at the crossing forced me to take a detour. Rainwater seeped into my shoes, making my feet wet. I felt like crying, even though it already seemed pathetic and exaggerated.

Upon arriving at Fontys, I passed the receptionist again. "What are you looking for here?" she asked. I explained my research. It felt as though I had to justify myself to a superior. She responded, "We are only open to staff. It's the May holiday. We are closing soon, as we only work in the morning." I assured her I would quickly collect my belongings and leave. I tried to exit through a different door, but it was unmanned and locked, so I had to pass the same receptionist again. I wished her a good day, but she didn't even look up from her phone.

Shivering and with wet feet, I stood on the sidewalk at Fontys, wondering where I could quickly document my experiences. But I didn't feel like sitting in a coffee bar with wet clothes. The moisture was really bothering me. The windows of the nearby cafes were fogged up. I didn't even bother to look inside for a spot. I wanted to go home. Away from Tilburg, away from Fontys, away from this public space...

So I took the first train home, a journey of an hour and a half with a transfer in Breda. There, I had to wait 20 minutes for a delayed train. On the platform, with the wind blowing, I felt lonely. I resorted to dance steps out of boredom, which felt more pleasant than dancing in Tilburg.

Post Scriptum I: That weekend, I visited the hospital and was diagnosed with pneumonia. Dancing in public space is not without risks.

Post Scriptum II: My phone, which I had placed against the tunnel wall, had fallen due to a gust of wind or a passerby's foot. Consequently, it had only recorded the tunnel's ceiling.