“PULSE, PULSE, PULSE, PULSE, hold, and pause,” a voice-over evenly calls out as monochrome footage rapidly intercuts between a black woman alone on a stretch of grass—arms out and angular, the top of her body pulling toward the ground and her legs partially bent—and stick-figure notations of her dance. Minutes later, a clip of women swirling the voluminous white clothes tied at their waists unfolds, instead, at a mesmerizing and unsettling molasses pace. This archival footage is punctuated with intertitles: “What happened when you looked down the lens? Or did they tell you not to?” “I want to