TECHNICAL DETAILS

Sony A7ii, Sony Zeiss FE 16-35mm f/4
1/60 @ f/4, ISO 1000

DEEP CANYON DANCE

It was an incongruous setting. The harsh artificial lights turned bright ceremonial garments neon and cast a strangely-angled glow on the pink walls of a deep canyon of stone, steel and glass. Snowflakes fell and spectators were swaddled in their warmest for the ten degree Fahrenheit weather. In the background, men on folding chairs surrounded a large central drum and sang loudly to the beat, telling a story, I can only surmise, that was unintelligible to all but a few. The dancers swirled and shook feathers and streamers. The eagle feathers were not, for once, in support of Philadelphia. This was Superbowl LII in Minneapolis. Nicollet Mall closed off and converted to the Superbowl Experience, block after block was full of Eagles and Patriots fans, but both outnumbered by locals in purple and gold, still longing for a Vikings home Superbowl that was missed by one game, savaged by Philadelphians who then invaded our venue–many years in the making–to supplant our celebration with theirs.

I had largely avoided the Superbowl hoopla, even with the prospect of the home team participating for the first time in history. But, the day before the big game, we decided on a lark that we should at least take in the sights downtown to say we had been there. We bundled up, parked at some distance, and took the train into the wilds of skyscraperland. I confess that I shot half-heartedly. I grabbed a few here and there. A man with a large sign imploring everyone to repent. Search lights shining on the tall building walls with a ski jump in the fore, strangely emerging from the flurries on what is usually a pedestrian thoroughfare that doesn’t require bindings and poles. As we walked along, a group of First Nations dancers began their display. The crowds parted to make room. The drum thumped and the singers wailed. In surreal quality of the lights, venue and whole scene was magnified.

I had a wide-angle zoom on my Sony A7ii, and stepped to the edge of the crown, squatting to get a lower angle shot that would allow me to frame the dancers with the skyway behind them. The criss-cross of the skyway superstructure, the glass panes going up the buildings and the pergola behind the dancers all adding to a mash of lines going in every direction. I could only grab a couple of frames before the spectators thickened and the dancers spread out, losing the framing.

We continued walking for an hour or so, past the thud of hip-hop bass pouring out of stages, snowmobile jumps on city streets, food carts, and, seemingly, a lot of people braving the cold and milling about. It was cool to see, but there was, at the end, an emptiness about the whole affair. I’m not sure if it was more attributable to me not being a huge football fan, lingering angst over the Viking’s loss the previous weekend, or just the enormity of the mass consumerism.

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