Dancing About Architecture in Lead Boots
Thomas Aurin for Sheffield Dancing About Architecture in Lead Boots They told me writing about music is like dancing about architecture— so I laced up my lead boots and signed the waiver. The blueprint blushes under footlights. Beams hold their breath. I attempt a pirouette in a hard hat, tap out a soft shoe on poured concrete— each step a thesis with a limp. The bass line hides in the rafters, smirking. I describe it as “cathedral thunder,” which is accurate if you’ve never been inside a cathedral or thunder. My metaphors arrive wearing safety vests, clipboarded and OSHA-approved, measuring the load-bearing capacity of a chorus. I call this rigor. The chorus calls it trespassing. The boots—oh, the boots: they drag every adjective through gravel. Sparks fly. I name them “inspiration.” The crowd nods politely, hearing none of what I mean but admiring the audacity of my balance. Perhaps art prefers bare feet; dust on the soles, splinters in the metaphor. Perhaps the building would hum if...
