Recently by Fiona Ferguson

For some reason, going to the theatre on a Friday afternoon seems really naughty. A bit like when you used to bunk double maths and go to the cinema instead. (Not that I ever used to do that, Mum, if you're reading this oh no no no ...)

I mean, who actually goes to the theatre at 2 p.m. on a school day? I thought I'd take myself off to Birmingham's most miniature theatre, the Old Joint Stock, and find out what crazed kinds of social misfits hide themselves in the gloom of an upstairs pub room to watch obscure play-lets instead of going out to earn a decent crust like most civilised 9-to-5ers. To my disappointment, the audience was full of normal looking, decent members of the public.

(What? Theatre in the daylight? On a schoolday? The madness...)

So, continuing on my neck-breaking meanderings around our city; I come across this at the Mailbox:

It's, well, a large Christmas tree; currently standing proud and outrageously huge in front of the building site that is to be the Cube.

I will put my hands up and admit I'm a bit of an architectural snob. Or at least, that I've been architecturally spoiled - growing up in Liverpool, which hosts the most listed buildings of a UK city outside of London.

So, one of my favourite pastimes is comparing Liverpool with Birmingham - and this frequently involves architecture. Now I don't actually know anything about architecture; I'm just an ignorant aesthete: if it looks pretty and old then I like it. So I enjoy a good moan about Birmingham's boring 1960's grey suburban sprawl and general lack of aesthetic value.

Until the other day, in town, I simply looked up and realised that this is not necessarily true. Check out this beauty:

Only art can save the world.

A bit of a bold opening statement perhaps, but it's the only thing that I've seen consistently bringing people from different backgrounds, religions, ethnicities etc together.

That which has elicited such hyperbole is the Heard and not Seen project/exhibition/website/discussion/thing: the exhibition part of which is currently at the Mailbox. For God's sake, please go. It's a brilliant mixed-media, interactive set-up exploring spirituality - particularly Islam. Favourite bits include an interactive burkha and screens that respond to your movement/noise.

The first International Dance Festival Birmingham is finished - and what a four-week feast it's been! Beginning with tai-chi on water at the Hippodrome and ending last night with the general public salsa-ing at sunset in the Mailbox, the IDFB triumphantly lived up to its own slogan - 'Bringing the city alive with dance'.

Now it's all over, I wish to honour the efforts and achievements of those involved with my very own awards ceremony (you'll be relieved to read that no phoney phone-ins nor he's-a-mate nepotism have in any way affected the resuts):

In the final movement of Jewels by the Kirov Ballet at the Hippodrome, it finally struck me. Ballet is the synchronised swimming of the dance world. Plenty of opaque smiles, lots of legs high up in the air and whatever's going on beneath the surface is out of sight and out of mind.

I can't help placing ballet in the same category as rhythmic gymnastics or figure skating. Whatever the costume colour or music style, you've got to produce officially-recognised positions of a sufficiently high quality in order to qualify. That's sport for you - not art.

Let me introduce myself - I'm Claire Boot, not Fiona Ferguson. Fi's off on her hols now, so I'm stepping into her shoes as honorary-festival-goer for IDFB's remaining week.

I'll begin with Bare Bones in Action at the Patrick Centre that, like a set of Russian dolls, is in the DanceXchange, which is, in turn, at the Hippodrome. As we filed in, members of the Kirov Ballet filed out. Nothing highlights your own slouchy posture like a ballerina gliding past you, her poise and elegance undimmed by a neon tracksuit. The close encounter between dancers and civilians (to borrow Liz Hurley's terminology) continued once we got inside, because Action plumped for seating the audience along the edges of the performance space.

And again: THIS IS NOT A SERIES OF REVIEWS. THIS IS A BLOG.

Just feeling the need to offer a Government Health Warning to readers every time I start typing something now ...

That was the warning about the blog about the dance about AIDS. As you do.

Well, Robyn Orlin and City and Theater and Dance Group did anyway, last night (and Saturday) at the Rep. And, weirdly, it was strangely uplifting. They managed to bring out the whole story of South African AIDS victims, not just the horror and menace, but also beauty, hope and even lots of humour. One of my favourite moments was watching Mr IDFB himself David Massingham being attacked by 7 foot condom-headed African man in a table cloth. (Before I get lynched, it's not cos I want Mr Massingham to be in any way abused, it was just an amusing sight.) There was also the videographer - who played a vital and visible role in the performance - who, having obviously felt like he suddenly needed a banana, decided that it was prudent to put a condom on it before putting it into his mouth.

Right - just to clarify something: this is NOT a series of reviews. This is a blog. This is a festival-goers diary commenting on the IDFB experience. I am not here to be a dance critic.

Good.

Now that's out of the way I can talk about what I want to talk about; the amazing Akram Khan's bahok!

Oh insufferable fate! (Sorry, just feeling a bit dramatic...) As if one night of teenagers isn't enough, I was subject to yet another demonstration of the youth of today as part of the IDFB last night; at Diary (Journal Intime): Quebec-based dance company Cas Public's show commissioned especially for young audiences.

I will emerge the other side of this Festival with some new observations: that dance, at its heart, is playful, that it needs a great space to play and a great audience to play with and - weirdly - that teenagers are OK. An unpredictable result.