One of my favorite books is Jack Butler’s Living in Little Rock with Miss Little Rock.  The full plot is a little hard to describe, but it’s generally the fictional story of an aging, well-to-do 1980’s Arkansas lawyer, Charles Morrison, and his aging beauty queen wife, Lianne.  As with all books, stuff happens to them and there’s some dialogue along the way.

A favorite concept in the book is where Charles refers to his wife as a “mood projector”:

“As soon as he entered the foyer, he knew she was home, though there were no lights on at all.  Some trace of warmth from the walls, perhaps, where she had placed a palm to steady herself while she took her high heels off.  A faint radiation, a wisp of her perfume, some stirring of the air in a way that only the living can stir, so that hours later it will not be entirely calm. . . .”

“‘Where’s Mrs. Morrison, Clemmie?’ he said.  When Clemmie had a martini waiting, it meant trouble.

“‘Upstairs,’ Clemmie said.  Worse yet.  If Lianne was happy, she was usually visiting, or out on the lawn to greet him, or in the kitchen chatting busily with Clemmie and helping with supper, or out in the greenhouse puttering with plants.  If she was angry, she was waiting in the foyer, or was in the library, reading with white-faced concentration, or had the formal dining room dressed, the china ready to receive the most minimal of offerings from la cuisine nouvelle.  Upstairs, now – upstairs meant she was depressed.

“He felt it in the air, invisible draperies.  She had her mother’s ability . . . to charge her surroundings with her own emotion.  An unrecognized psychic talent, the mood projectors.  You lived inside their feelings.  They were happy, the day was sunny.  They felt black, it was damn sure gonna rain on your parade.”

I’ve met several of these people.  And I think good dancers, actors, or other performers should actively cultivate this quality – at least on stage.  Even if it’s an “unrecognized psychic talent”, it’s maybe something that can be taught.  Fill the room with whatever you’re feeling.

I think Artistic Director Alison Page with Arova Contemporary Ballet has it.  When I visited Arova last time, I watched her dance (even injured, I believe) and then watched her talk after the performance.  Her gleefulness at a good plan coming together was obvious and well-conveyed.  I was specifically looking forward to seeing her again at the Arova choreography competition, but she was forced to be more reserved during the Sunday awards program and, as a result, things were more reserved right along with her.  It’s really fun to get to know some of the local performance groups well enough to feel like I’m getting to know the people involved.

My two favorite pieces of the competition were Ne Me Quitte Pas, choreographed by Jennifer Medina, and OnCe Distracted, choreographed by Jaime Kilgore.  The Medina piece was the audience favorite and captured first place.  But what I didn’t notice until I sat down to write was that Michelle Imhoff was the dancer for both of them.  She must have changed her look – which I know women are apt to do.  Since I liked each of those pieces, maybe she has some latent projectivity?

Is this why dancers and actresses can sometimes get a reputation for being difficult to live with?  Those “invisible draperies” they can put up in the air?  If so, and you’re living around one of them, you might should put some efforts into keeping them cheerful and giving them somewhere to perform.  Let ‘em work it out before they come home.