Even last minute changes to our travel plans couldn’t diminish the fantastic footage that we were able to shoot at the dress rehearsal for Private Dancer’s 2012 incarnation at The Centre for Contemporary Art in Glasgow on Thursday last week.

As well as filming at the dress rehearsal, I stayed up to take part in the public showing later – having spent ages trying to get to see the work first hand, I didn’t want to miss my opportunity! The piece premiered in 2010 – it was one of the first Unlimited Commissions that was finalised. Everyone I asked about it who’d seen it spoke about the impact it had on them – profound, challenging, questioning, affirmative – yet no one would give me details of what to expect.

Now I understand why. There is much in Private Dancer I won’t disclose publically either – the whole experience plays on what is public and private, known and unknown. To say too much would change the experience for others and spoil the impact.

And anyway, everyone’s journey through it is different, as we are told at the beginning by our calming yet slightly disturbing host and also the creator of the House installation in which Private Dancer is performed, the esteemed Richard Leyzell – no one gets to see exactly the same thing, let alone has the same response to the things that they do see.

The House is a fantastic framing device – giving a physical presence to the questions arising in our heads. What’s inside? What’s outside(r)? What happens when we cross over thresholds? Who controls who goes in and out? It’s also simply beautiful – as in beautiful in its simplicity – with subtle yet provocative lighting adding to our questions, offering glimpses of moving shadows and tantilising snatches of colour and presence as doors open and close.

So if I won’t tell you what I saw, what will I tell you? I can tell you it made me cry, that it moved me at a very deep level with its beauty, sensitivity and authenticity. You will see movement that amazes you – not because of technique or physical flexibility, but because of the way it holds up each persons unique movement as something close to divine.

I felt warm and enriched, perfectly held and supported whilst my perception of who can dance was tested, and retested. Not who can dance – anyone can dance. More who ‘should’ dance, who is granted the right to take that title ‘dancer’ and wear it with aplomb. And we can look around and cast stones at the arts sector, the dance sector, the media and whoever we like in relation to that question – but this piece also takes the question inside the viewer, inside you as you watch. Who do you see as ‘dancer’?

I came out both elated and angry – elated because I was high on the integrity, equality and beauty I had just witnessed; angry not with the piece but with a world that tries to tell us what is and what isn’t beautiful and with myself for so often falling into the trap of believing it.

If you can get to see it – do – I hope you’ll understand what I mean.