The spectacle itself is weird and fantastic in the extreme.
The few guests asked by Loie Fuller to witness the performance in her studio, for it is not yet given to the public, are marshaled at one end of the gallery, with all lights put out. Through a slit in the curtains opposite a green glow is seen.
Suddenly an apparition comes into view.
It is a vague form, only distinguished by hundreds of tiny glow worms which it seems to carry on its flowing raiment. The tissue of twinkling stars floats about, circles, sweeps along the floor, or is wafted up until it assumes the shape of a great luminous vase.
The dancer’s face is never seen, her form feeing vaguely outlined by the glowing lights. The apparition vanishes and is followed by another more weird still. Above a perfectly invisible head, which you only suppose to be there, shines a bluish halo. Below, clothing an unseen figure, is a long robe, which is merely a great patch of the same ghostly light.
The apparition, slowly moving to a solemn rhythm, seems to invoke heaven, the halo being thrown backward when the head is, as you conclude, uplifted. Finally, the robe of light sinks on to the floor, when you infer that the figure kneels.
The second ghost vanishes, a third appears, a monster glowing moth, with shining antennae a foot long, eyes which are globes of light, and wings six feet high, glittering with numerous scrolls in all colors. The moth flutters round and round the studio, then goes out of sight, but reappears almost instantly, accompanied by a smaller, glowing white butterfly, which beats its wings over the monster luminous insect’s head.
Lamps being relighted, the visitors are brought back to reality out of ghostland...
— Los Angeles Herald, Volume XXXI, Number 215, 1 May 1904
Loïe Fuller (1862–1928) was a pioneer of both modern dance and theatrical lighting techniques. Fuller combined her choreography with silk costumes illuminated by multi-coloured lighting of her own design.
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Title reference from Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison.