babysimon

stonehan and I went for a walk on the south bank early yesterday evening. While we were there, we Experienced True Modernism.

The event was billed as "Sticky", and promised music, fireworks, and miles of sticky tape. Who could resist?

The performance started conventionally enough, with lots of sellotape banners wound between poles, and people moving about on stage to arhythmic music while holding things that looked like silver lacrosse sticks above their heads. Then a spotlight showed a man dressed as a fly dangling from a crane, 30m or so above us. It was unclear whether he was flying or trying to get free.

While our attention was distracted, the lacrosse people formed themselves into a large sellotape spider with jerky legs. At this point we realised that the sellotape-pole structure symbolised a spider's web. The fly slowly approached the spider, symbolising (I suppose) the inevitability of death. When the fly reached the spider he was devoured. Or at least the arhythmic dancing got more ferocious.

The spider started to slowly mutate. The dome on its back started to move away from the ground until the spider turned into a tall sellotape tower, symbolising man's obsession with phallism. Then people attached lots of little spiders on sticks to the tower, and fireworks started to go off, symbolising the fact that sellotape is not flammable. The little spiders themselves contained fireworks, which were duly activated. At this point we became aware that the fly was now trapped within the tower, at which point my respect for the actor who was dangling on a string surrounded by fireworks went up considerably.

Various cogwheels and bits of machinery started to assemble themselves at the base of the tower. As

stonehan is not a devotee of modernist dance, she was unable to discern that they symbolised man's triumph over the forces of nature, such as giant spiders. Fortunately I was able to set her straight. The wheels formed themselves into a machine, symbolising that the best way to kill a giant spider is to trap it between cogwheels. Once the machine started up, a clockface started to climb the tower, symbolising the innovative spider-and-sellotape construction of Big Ben.

But, as with all modernist dance extravaganzas, the moment of greatest triumph immediately precedes the moment of conflagration. The pace of the fireworks increased, the clockface started burning, the lights illuminated the sellotape in a dull red, and the tower started to collapse. This was symbolic of the ultimate futility of all human endeavour.

After the carefully-choreographed collapse concluded, the fly was once again seen flying free, symbolising the continuity of all life in the face of an uncaring universe. And bubbles started coming out of the collapsed spider-tower. I like bubbles.

Sarcasm aside, we did enjoy the performance, as did the rest of the crowd (many of whom were much drunker and more sarcastic than us)...