Urban Stage | May Event

Wherever There Is a Square,
Someone is “Dancing”

designed by Yining Chi

May 25, 2023, 8-10pm
Fuji Plaza, Guangzhou
curator: Yining Chi
organization: Fei Arts Museum

Program Note
— Yining Chi

Wherever there is a square, someone is “dancing”. But this event is not about performing a public plaza dance in the usual sense, that’s why the word “dancing” appears in quotation marks in our title. As we mentioned in the program statement, every act of connection and interaction among people can be seen as part of the daily ballet that unfolds on the streets. So this time, when we invite everyone to “dance,” we’re simply inviting you to play with your body—circle, negotiate, and weave. That’s all. No rules, no methods, no physical prerequisites.

I was deeply influenced by the collective The Last Dance, which is why our Urban Stage series begins with a body-centered event. Before coming to Guangzhou, I lived in Beijing, where I regularly took part in Xiaonan Pan (the initiator of The Last Dance)’s drifting dance gatherings. Every Thursday night we would dance together in a different location—a bookstore, a theater, a bar, the entrance to a subway station...encountering new people each time. One moment I’ll never forget was a summer night last year, when we were dancing in Maziren Bookshop. Suddenly, a heavy downpour began. Youth ran out into the rain, spinning hand-in-hand, splashing each other, falling to the ground. I remember thinking how beautiful it felt to release the body so freely. The nature of the body, after all, is to roam—to spin, leap, and roll across boundless terrain.

Even more importantly, this nomadism of the body must take place in public space. We leave our private dwelling to enter open, exposed, yet anonymous grounds. Events that happen in public space are inherently open to others—every passerby is a potential participant who can reshape what’s taking place. The unpredictability of this world of strangers is what makes it so thrilling.

After arriving in Guangzhou, I noticed a vibrant musical atmosphere here: singing fills the riverbanks, subway entrances, street stalls, and bars. Yet aside from the occasional plaza dance led by aunties, spontaneous bodily expression rarely occupies the public eye. So I wanted to bring that kind of collective, embodied release into Guangzhou’s urban landscape.

As I began thinking about what kinds of public spaces in a city might welcome diverse bodily expressions, the first places that came to mind were the streets, parks, and squares. Among them, the square feels particularly special because of its embedded political connotation. A city square should be a stage—a space open to occupation—where people can dance, sing, play music, picnic, chat, or simply be. That’s how I chose Fuji Plaza.

At Fuji Plaza, you might see teenagers playing badminton, children riding toy cars, people doing yoga, or elders taking off their shoes to rest on a bench...This space acts as a magnetic container, bringing different bodies together and holding the capacity for encounters, assemblies, and shared temporalities.

So, in the name of “dance,” let us take over Fuji Plaza together! Let’s explore wildest ways of using urban space, and just release our bodies into it.

In addition, a selection of publications related to the body and dance will be available on site, including Touch Catalog by Ices Magazine, The Dance of Rebirth (Issue 9 of Tabloid Flâneur), An Introduction to Disco (published in 1985 by Shanxi People’s Publishing House), and Wang Min’an’s Body, Space and Postmodernity. Ranging from the scholarly to the accessible, these are there for you to flip through whenever you feel tired, awkward, or bored.

We hope the square holds space for each and every one of us.

有广场的地方，常常有人在跳舞，但此次活动又并非期待大家来跳一段广场舞，所以标题里的跳舞两个字上面多了一对引号。正如上一篇推送（总预告）里提及过的，凡是人与人之间的互动与联结，都可以被称为在街头每天上演的芭蕾舞蹈。因此这一次，我们邀请大家来“跳舞”，不过是请大家一起与身体周旋，仅此而已。没有规矩，没有方法，没有任何身体的门槛。

之所以“城市舞台”系列会想第一个办与身体有关的活动，很大原因是受到“最后一支舞”的影响。来广州之前，我一直在北京生活，那时候我经常参加晓楠举办的漂流舞会。我们每周四晚上会在不同地方约舞，书店，剧场，酒吧，地铁站口……与不同的人相遇。印象最深的是去年夏天的一个夜晚，我们在码字人书店里跳着跳着，外面突然下起倾盆大雨。少男少女们冲进雨中狂奔，手拉手转圈，相互泼水，就地躺下。我当时就觉得，完全尽情地释放自己的身体真好啊！身体的本质就是要游牧，要在无边无际的地方旋转、跳跃和翻滚。
更重要的是，身体游牧发生的地点一定要是城市的公共空间——我们离开各自相对隐私的居所，进入更加暴露却又匿名的外部场地。在公共领域发生的事件都同时面向所有其他人展开，每个过路者都有可能加入并重塑正在发生的活动，这种陌生人世界所带来的不确定性令人兴奋。

在来到广州之后，我发现这里的音乐氛围格外浓厚：歌声占领了河边，占领了地铁口，占领了大排档和酒吧；但除了阿姨们的广场舞偶尔出现之外，属于肢体的即时空间却不常占据公共视野。于是我便想将那种群体性的身体释放延续到广州的城市空间。
当我开始思考一座城市里有哪些公共空间可能容纳多样的身体表达，首先想到的就是街道，公园，广场。而广场因寄居于其中的政治呈现，又是更加特别的存在。一座城市广场应该是一个舞台，欢迎所有人前来「占领」，在空地上一起跳舞、唱歌、弹琴、野餐、交谈，做一切事情。就这样，我选定了富基广场。

富基广场是整个广州我最熟悉的一片区域，位于市二宫地铁站A口的商场门口，是我每天上下班都会路过的地方。在我看来，它是一个天然会吸引不同人群在这里聚集的中心：从地形学上看，四周有商场，有居民楼，有地铁站，有十字路口，来来往往人流量很大；但电动车和自行车都不太好进入这片区域，因此相对安全，适合在地面上做些什么。而站在个体的视角来看，广场树荫的一圈圈座位又提供了正当的停留理由，允许人们在这里休息，等待，或者光明正大地旁观其他人的行为。

因此在这片广场上你能看到打羽毛球的少年，骑童车的小朋友，做瑜伽的人，脱掉鞋子在椅子上歇脚的老人……这个空间像是一个充满吸引力的容器，聚拢充满差异的主体，促成相遇、集合、共时性。
那么就让我们以“跳舞”之名，一起「占领」富基广场吧！肆意地开发使用城市空间的方式，释放自己的身体。

另外，场上会准备一些与身体、舞蹈有关的刊物，分别是二十面体的《触Catalog》，闲逛者小报第9期《重生之舞》，1985年山西人民出版社出版的《迪斯科入门》，汪民安的《身体、空间与后现代性》，雅俗共赏，欢迎在疲惫/尴尬/无聊时翻阅。

希望广场上有我们每一个人的容身之地。

Event Reflection
— Yining Chi

We Danced Hand in Hand Under the Moonlight

Introduction: On Thursday evening, May 25 at 8 pm, the first event of the Urban Stage series—curated by Yining Chi from Fei Arts Museum—took place at Fuji Plaza near Guangzhou’s Second Workers’ Cultural Palace. Titled Wherever There Is a Square, Someone Is “Dancing”, this event gathered more than twenty participants under the moonlight to stretch, touch, lie down, roll, and spin with each other in the music—reclaiming urban public space through collective bodily presence.

“Dance belongs to the realm of madness. After we are forced out of the womb, a part of us longs to return to that lost freedom. But we soon find ourselves in a dilemma. Blindly obeying the demands of reason, we eventually become selfish prisoners, surrounded by people just like us. Yet when you stand there, or lie face down on the ground and stretch, you awaken the memory of that madness we once knew in the womb. You express the freedom we all desperately long to regain. By making that madness visible, you can rescue the part of us held captive by reason.” — From “The World of Kazuo Ohno”, in Tabloid Flâneur: The Dance of Rebirth.

The Demands of Reason

At 7:30 pm, the volunteer Ye and I arrived at Fuji Plaza with a large speaker. We spread out a black-and-yellow picnic cloth, laid out drinks and dance-related publications, and posted our location in the group chat. Then we sat and waited.

By 7:45, participants began to arrive, some chatting, others browsing the books. Ye was preparing a music playlist made up of favorite tracks gathered from participants beforehand.

Around 8:00, Just as we were about to begin, two security guards appeared. They said a resident had filed a complaint and ordered us to immediately disperse, even though we hadn’t even started playing music.

I stepped forward and explained that we simply wanted to dance, like any plaza dance group. Why can’t we dance in a plaza? They said that street stalls were not allowed. I asked if we could remove the ground cloth and still continue. They didn’t give a clear answer, but they didn’t deny it either. All the participants, who had been quietly gathered around us, instantly picked up their bags, helped roll up the cloth, and cleared the space.

When the guards left, the event truly began.

Standing There

At first, from the moment we laid out the cloth, a few curious aunties gathered to ask what we were doing.

—“What are y’all doing here?”
—“Dancing!”

—“Wow, when does it start?”
—“At 8pm. Come join us!”

—“But I don’t really know how to dance…”
—“No need to! Just move however you feel like.”

—“Alright, we’ll watch first.”

They hung in there, but never quite joined in. They simply stood, watching.

Throughout the two hours of dancing, the edge of the space remained in motion. People passed by, paused, then moved on. Some just stood and observed. But even among those who “just stood,” there were layers of engagement:

Mode 1: Completely still, upright, without expression or movements, but watching attentively.

Mode 2: Standing upright, but not completely still —for example, tapping their feet to the rhythm, unnoticed at eye level.

Mode 3: Loosely swaying, subtly joining from the sidelines, even though just waving their hands.

Mode 4: Fully entering the dance circle, agentially connecting with others through movement.

There was more footage that wasn’t included here—like two boys who ran up to the speaker, shouted, and dashed away laughing; or a boy on rollerblades who struck dramatic poses for my camera. They didn’t quite fit into the four modes of participation, instead weaving through as they pleased. A girl in pink danced silently with us for nearly an hour, barely speaking, but clearly immersed and joyful.

Children approached freely, unlike many adults who hovered nearby with hesitation, held back by an inexplicable sense of shame. Adults often needed children’s curiosity as an excuse to come closer. Children danced instinctively; they became a kind of shield behind which adults tried to recover their own childlike way of seeing the world.

Lying Down

Sometimes, exhausted and sweating, we lay down on the ground.

It all happened naturally. Like in this video (video 1), one participant, Gulang, simply sat to read because she wanted to; others lay back, chatted, played on their phones:

Other times, we rolled around and counted imaginary stars in the sky (video 2):

Lying on the ground, participant Chujun said it reminded her of being a child—playing outside, getting dirty, feeling unashamed and untamed.

As we grow up, we gradually adapt to modern urban life—one marked by a separation between humans and nature. Our bodies are always mediated by layers that keep us from direct contact with the earth: we wear shoes when we stand, sit on chairs when we rest, and lie on beds when we sleep. These layers shield us from dirt, keeping us clean, separate, and civilized.

In rational life, our consciousness rules over our bodies. But in moments of revelry, the body escapes the control of reason, no longer hidden beneath the weight of indifference. Under the moonlight, surrounded by strangers and music, we reclaim the forgotten presence of our bodies. We rediscover the freedom to break away from discipline, to return to the wildness of childhood, and to embrace madness.

Making “Madness” Visible

When I first initiated this event, my intention was to evoke a kind of affective energy—one that overwhelms reason—on this unique public stage of the square. After the event ended, many participants indeed felt this energy and reflected it back into the world; I received warm, loving messages in the group chat, and also saw tender memories shared on their social media.

However, when I look back on this event from a more rational perspective, I realize that the square’s public nature brings much more complexity to this act of bodily release.

In the square, people are fully anonymous—without background, history, or identity. All interiority disappears. People become purely visual objects, turning into a spectacle of watching and being watched.

In this sense, the square creates a double stage for both joy and destruction: as we collectively release our bodies, stirring and colliding with each other, the square allows these roaming bodies to be seen. And this visibility, in turn, becomes a strong stimulus for everyone involved.

Yet people have different thresholds for such “stimulation of being seen.” Some naturally resist becoming a spectacle—refusing to expose themselves to the gaze of others, even if it is a benevolent gaze. This is why we saw the variations in the four modes of standing mentioned earlier. Within the group of participants, such differences were also evident: some friends are comfortable expressing themselves physically in front of strangers, while others are not. As some found themselves at the center of the dance floor, basking in attention and praise, others quietly remained on the sidelines.

So does the square create a center–periphery divide? Did this event inherently reproduce structures of power that leaves some people naturally excluded? Perhaps these questions can only be felt and answered by those who were present in that moment.

negotiating with two security guards
(photo by participant He Shan)

mode 1 - those standing still and watching
(filmed by colleague He Fang)

mode 2 - a foot tapping to the rhythm
(filmed by He Fang)

mode 3 - waving our little hands together
(filmed by participant Ayu)

mode 4 - she joined in such elegance
(filmed by Ye)

1: sit, lie down, or dance — all are welcome
(filmed by He Fang)

2: let’s roll together! (filmed by Ayu)

我们手牵手在月下起舞

引言：5月25日周四晚20:00，由扉美术馆池艺宁策划的“城市舞台”系列活动登场，第一回发生在市二宫的富基广场。在这次名为“有广场的地方就有人’跳舞’”的活动里，二十余名参与者聚集在夜晚的月光下，跟随着音乐伸展身体，相互碰触，就地躺下，打滚，转圈……重新以身体的方式定义城市公共空间的使用方式。

「舞蹈也是为疯狂所占据的领域。在我们被迫离开子宫后，我们的一部分渴望重新获得那丧失已久的自由。但我们越来越发觉自己在面临一个困境。盲目地跟从理性的要求，我们迟早会变成自私的囚徒。我们到处被类似的人所包围。然而，当你站在那儿，或是俯卧在地上伸展，你在唤醒我们在子宫中经历的那种“疯狂”的记忆。你在表达我们每一个人都无比渴望重新获得的自由。通过让这种“疯狂”可见，你可以拯救我们被理性所禁锢的那个部分。」 ——选自《从外到内——大野一雄的世界》，⻅于《闲逛者小报：重生之舞》

理性的要求

5月25日晚19:30，我和志愿者野拖着大大的音箱来到富基广场，摊开一张⻩黑色的桌布作为野餐垫，摆上水、饮料，和几本舞蹈相关的书籍。我们拍下位置照片发在先前建立的活动群聊里，在垫子上坐了下来。

19:45，参与者陆陆续续到来，交谈或看起书来；野在调试音响，她那里收集了每位朋友最喜欢的音乐并制作了歌单。活动准备要开始了。

20:00，在等待人⻬的间隙，两位执勤人员突然出现。他们称收到了居⺠举报，要求我们必须立即撤离，但那时我们其实还并未开始播放音乐。

我上前协商，表示我们不过只是想跳广场舞而已，这里是公共空间，为什么广场上不可以跳广场舞？执勤人员表示这里有物业管理，不可以摆摊。我继续询问那把地垫撤走，可不可以继续在这里活动？他不置可否，但似乎是默认了这个解决方法。

整个对话发生的过程中，参与者们一直安静地围在四周，在听到撤走地垫的方案之后大家立刻自发地行动起来，将垫子上自己的包包拿起，帮忙收拾东⻄，卷地垫。

当执勤人员离开了，活动真正开始了

站在那儿

从我们刚到广场摆上地垫开始，就吸引来了几位阿姨的热情关注。

阿姨：“是要做咩啊”
我们：“跳广场舞！”

阿姨：“哇呀，几点呀？”
我们：“八点开始，要不要来跳！”

阿姨：“可我不太会跳舞的呀！你会教吗？”
我们：“不用教的，很简单，随便跳就可以！来嘛！”

阿姨：“好呀，那我们等你们开始看一看。”

阿姨们一直等到了活动开始，但却并没有加入，始终只是站在那儿而已。

在我们跳舞的两个小时里，外围总是流动着许多的人，偶然经过，短暂驻足，再迈步离开。人群大多是站立着的，但站立也分为不同的层次.

第一层：身体完全直立，静止地站着，没有太多的表情和肢体，但在很专注地旁观。

第二层：身体直立着，但并不是完全静止，例如在眼睛平视时注意不到的地方，脚会跟随着音乐的节奏打节拍。

第三层：身体不限于简单的直立，而是行动了起来，虽然可能只是在外围晃动着小手。

第四层：身体自发跟随着音乐在舞动，主动地进入人群并产生连结。

在整理视频的过程中，还有一些素材没有放进来，例如跑到音响前面尖叫然后大笑着跑开的兄弟俩，在我的镜头前摆很多不同的pose的轮滑鞋男孩，他们无法被归类到这四层递进的参与框架里，而是在其中完全随心意地来回打转。一个粉色衣服的小女孩在舞池里与我们跳了接近一个小时，不怎么开口说话，但跳得很投入，很开心。小朋友是远比大人要更容易亲近的存在，我时常察觉到一些过路的大朋友有着想要参与的意愿，却被一些莫名的羞耻感束住了手脚，只能借小朋友的好奇心来靠近我们。当孩童是如此自然地跟随本能，他们像是成为了大人的遮羞布，而大人们则在尽力重新获得一双孩子的眼睛来感受这个世界。

俯卧在地

在跳舞的过程中，有时大汗淋漓，气喘吁吁，我们就会直接躺在地面上。

有时坐下和躺倒的状态是很自然的。在这条视频里，参与者孤狼想坐在地上看书于是就坐下了，另一些朋友则躺在地上交谈，玩手机:

再或者大家莫名其妙开始打滚，对着天空数并不存在的星星。

和参与者楚君一起躺在地上聊天的时候，她突然说感觉自己像是回到了小时候，在外面玩得脏兮兮的，肆无忌惮的。

我们逐渐在⻓大的过程中习惯了都市的现代生活，而现代性的一个特点是人和自然的分裂。身体与周遭自然的接触之间总是有很多的介质，比如当我们站立时一定是穿着鞋子踩在地面上的，当我们坐下时和地面之间总是隔着一把椅子或一张板凳，当我们准备躺倒时身下有床在接应，这些介质保证了我们的身体不会被“弄脏”。

在理性的生活中，我们的意识驾驭着身体，而在狂欢生活中，身体则摆脱了意识的压制，不再消身匿迹于一种巨大的漠视之中——在月光下，音乐里，与陌生人的接触之中，我们找回了被遗忘的身体，重新获得了一种走出规训的自由，变回孩童的自由，走向疯狂的自由。

让这种“疯狂”可见

最开始发起这个活动时，我的初衷是希望在广场这样一个特殊的公共舞台上，令所有人体验到一种压倒理智的“感性能量”。当活动结束之后，许多参与者们也确实接收到了这份能量，并再次将其反射到外界。我收到了群聊里充满爱和善意的反馈，也在朋友圈里看到其他一些朋友的柔软回忆。

但当我以理性的视角去看待这场活动，广场的公共属性为这场身体释放提供了更多复杂性。

人在广场上是完全匿名的，没有背景，没有历史，没有身份，所有内在性都消失不见。人变为单纯的视觉对象，是纯粹观看和被观看的景观。

广场由此为我们搭起了一个欢乐和破坏的双重舞台：当我们集体释放身体，彼此激发和碰撞，广场让这种游牧的身体得以被观看，而这种被观看又为每个人带来进一步的强烈刺激。、

但不同人对于“观看刺激”的接受度是有差异的，人们当然可以拒绝成为景观，拒绝以一种赤裸的状态被曝光在外界的凝视之中（即使是善意的），因此我们会从看到前文提及的四种站立姿态差异，而在参与者内部也存在着相似的差异：有的朋友习惯在陌生人面前使用肢体来表达感受，有些朋友则没那么习惯于此，因此在一些人身处舞池中心收获赞美的同时，也总有人一直安静坐在外围。

那么，在广场的空间里是否存在一种中心-边缘的对立？这场活动是否内含了一种权力关系，令一部分人天然地被排斥在外？我想这只能交给当天参与在现场之中的人去感受，去评价。

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