Sunday May 18, 2008
Cramped and panting in LA’s newest hot spot dance venue, The Open Space downtown, I sit pitching my spine forward among a sea of 125 other sweaty bodies, hand held fans in masses, all in anticipation of In/Ex Dance Project’s premiere work, Sightlines, Pick-up Lines and Other Cliches. Lead by choreographers Julia Ferguson, Sarri Sanchez, Ally Voye, Eva Wilder, and Maya Zellman, this ambitious work delivers high velocity and well-trained dancers, sweaty and slippery limbs, tender relationships and hyper-physical partnering. Effort on the table…I am impressed. Yet still, I have questions.
Kudos to the PR team for plugging the hell out of this show: It is packed to the brim and there is great energy buzzing about the space, not to mention the who’s who of LA dance community choreographers, dancers, and ambassadors of dance in attendance this evening.
The audience is situated on two sides of the performance space, divided by five over-sized, floor to rafter block-like panels. They are obtrusive, and it is clear they will be moving during the performance (the wheels suggest so). There is a significant gap between two of the panels, which creates a window into the world of the other half of the audience. I am fond already of the possibility of the ways in which these props will frame the space and the dance, as well as the split audience. The venue is so intimate that one cannot help but watch how others will respond to the work. They seem as bubbly and anxious over there as we are on my side of the space.
So my pre-performance questions begin.
Regardless of the content and quality of the dance/ing, will these props be used successfully?
Given the size of the props, will the maneuvering of them distract from the work, or will the choreography of the walls be as significant to the work as the dancing?
Will this dance be about framing and un-framing? Should I worry about this?
Is the audience truly granted choice in what to look at, as the promotional postcard suggests? Is this work, then, about power of gaze, control and audience authorship? How is this different from other live dance performances without physical framing devices? Should I calm down already?
Cramped and panting in LA’s newest hot spot dance venue, The Open Space downtown, I sit pitching my spine forward among a sea of 125 other sweaty bodies, hand held fans in masses, all in anticipation of In/Ex Dance Project’s premiere work, Sightlines, Pick-up Lines and Other Cliches. Lead by choreographers Julia Ferguson, Sarri Sanchez, Ally Voye, Eva Wilder, and Maya Zellman, this ambitious work delivers high velocity and well-trained dancers, sweaty and slippery limbs, tender relationships and hyper-physical partnering. Effort on the table…I am impressed. Yet still, I have questions.
Kudos to the PR team for plugging the hell out of this show: It is packed to the brim and there is great energy buzzing about the space, not to mention the who’s who of LA dance community choreographers, dancers, and ambassadors of dance in attendance this evening.
The audience is situated on two sides of the performance space, divided by five over-sized, floor to rafter block-like panels. They are obtrusive, and it is clear they will be moving during the performance (the wheels suggest so). There is a significant gap between two of the panels, which creates a window into the world of the other half of the audience. I am fond already of the possibility of the ways in which these props will frame the space and the dance, as well as the split audience. The venue is so intimate that one cannot help but watch how others will respond to the work. They seem as bubbly and anxious over there as we are on my side of the space.
So my pre-performance questions begin.
Regardless of the content and quality of the dance/ing, will these props be used successfully?
Given the size of the props, will the maneuvering of them distract from the work, or will the choreography of the walls be as significant to the work as the dancing?
Will this dance be about framing and un-framing? Should I worry about this?
Is the audience truly granted choice in what to look at, as the promotional postcard suggests? Is this work, then, about power of gaze, control and audience authorship? How is this different from other live dance performances without physical framing devices? Should I calm down already?
My brain won’t quit. Are these too many questions before the dance has even begun?
At this point I am not sure I want to watch dancing walls. I am not sure I want to be watched. I am distracted by a hot Clark Kent-type guy across the way who is wearing a white fitted t-shirt and black rimmed reading glasses. Damn sightlines! So fear and panic brush the surface of my skin.
I digress.
At this point I am not sure I want to watch dancing walls. I am not sure I want to be watched. I am distracted by a hot Clark Kent-type guy across the way who is wearing a white fitted t-shirt and black rimmed reading glasses. Damn sightlines! So fear and panic brush the surface of my skin.
I digress.
The work opens with two dancers head-locked in a symmetrical tangle, shoulder to shoulder (imagine Siamese twins conjoined trapezius to trapezius with top of heads pointing down to the floor, backs exposed to the ceiling). Dialogue begins when each dancer asks the other a series of questions, from casual to personal but incredibly awkward. They introduce themselves to each other only to end up in a provocative wrestling match, measuring friendship compatibility both with words and gesture. The partnering is messy, but successful, as it reflects the nature of fumbled first meetings. There is also a feeling of competition and possible conflict. This establishes a humorous vibe, yet it is subtly aggressive. The speaking, on the other hand, can use some work. My worst fear of witnessing performers who dance and speak is that it will be delivered with an over-articulated performative tone, which, in my opinion, is the result of wanting to be heard while breathless (from dancing). However, they are not out of breath from dancing yet, so something else is happening: forced dialogue. I am suddenly uncomfortable.
My constructive feeback: Conversational dialogue requires great practice. Keep it casual and practice often with all kinds of text. Try saying something 50 different ways. Unless you are playing a character, be yourself. In this case, it was trying too hard to be something it didn’t need to be.
But I applaud the effort, and who wouldn’t want to keep watching Arletta Anderson and Meredith Cortez Flores dance.
This brings up some more questions.
Why are we speaking in dance these days? Are we tired of modern dances that require more effort to reel audiences into an ephemeral practice?
Will the content in this work be so deep that speaking is necessary?
Are we relying on our words to make more clear the difficult ideas we are grappling with?
Shouldn’t we take as many classes in performance speaking that we do in dancing…or do we take our voice box for granted because we use it everyday? In which case, I say, use it in performance the way you use in your every day life and the speaking and relationships created will be much more clear.
The dance continues with an introduction of the rest of the performers. A quite handsome cast, I am eager to meet these people. They are whispering while walking, yet I am not sure why, and each grab a part of the walls. Suddenly the space is transformed with one continuous wall of panels dividing the space in two with audience on both sides. At this point there are no sightlines exposing the other audience members. Thankfully I can no longer see Clark Kent.
This suggests: two worlds, two performances.
Is the other audience enjoying a completely different performance than what I am seeing? This is a fantastic idea.
Would there be laughter over there when we are crying over here? Either way, one can’t help but wonder whether or not we will get to see what is happening on the other side.
Our side is treated to a delightful solo performed by Alexie Agdeppa; powerful and precise, indulgent and patient. She is captivating to watch, fearless when looking at the audience. The choreography is fresh; contemporary class vocabulary at times, gestural at other moments. Unfortunately, it soon becomes a duet. Nguyen Nguyen enters, whom I find to be such a lovely dancer, sensitive and strong, supple and well connected to the floor. But as many of you know, (or will soon discover) I loathe man/woman dancing that marginalizes women further into their already tight representation in performance. I loathe man/woman partnering that asks of its male dancer to be more masculine, which is both homophobic and oppressive sexism (I am aware that this is not your intention...but nonetheless). This duet, though passionate in its intent, falls victim to the traditional man hand on woman’s neck, woman thrown to the ground, man gazes at woman from behind, woman tossed in the air, woman beating man’s chest to be heard, woman supported on man’s shoulder-type of choreography. It is intense, super physical, and actually quite successful at times in its inventiveness and often contact improvisation-like quality. It is not hurried or trite. It is, however, an unfortunate gendered pairing that so many choreographers make. And, I know, there are moments in this duet when the woman is supporting the man and the woman tosses the man…however it’s just not the same. That simple. It’s just not the same. And this particular duet is not about the critique of man/woman partnering in dance. Therefore it inadvertently perpetuates the representation. Agdeppa lost a great deal of her power, and rather than continue from her solo as an independent and strong woman, she is quickly pinned into a woman seen only in relation to a man. As a result, Nguyen’s dancing seems to lose its sensitivity and his energy was directed more towards manipulating and throwing his partner around.
My suggestions.
Challenge what we already know of this partnering/pairing. If it is a heterosexual relationship, rethink the gaze and the penetration. Can’t it just be super physical contact with a clear equality and democratic construction?
Why is it that every time a man and woman dance together it has a romantic subtext or overbearing overtone???
This question is not directed at the choreographer of this particular dance, but a larger question I find present in my work with Liz Casebolt and the work of other artists I admire. I think it is something we should all try to think about…because the equivalent questions about race and class come up too.
A quartet of women enter the space; Bethany Betzler, Sofia Klass, Sarita Louise Moore and Chris Leyva. They start speaking. A brush of fear and panic runs quickly into my throat. The same problems arise for me when the nature of these conversational questions are delivered in a forced manner. They are meant to be playful, yet it often sounds like they are whining, and in conjunction with the types of questions being asked, like “what color are my eyes” and “how come you never listen to me” create a problem for this group of women. I am sure that their intention is not to whine nor to seem superficial in their interests…but I have to wonder if it is their lack of experience speaking while dancing that I am responding to or the representation as women that they are framing for themselves. Are these really the questions this strong group of women want to be asking, and, if so, why do I need to see it? The quirky partnering, on the other hand, is fantastic. It is lively, humorous and often finds itself in a knot, twisting and arriving at unexpected places. A solo by Moore is particularly successful, as she tells the rest of her group that she wants to express her feelings through interpretive dance. Ordinarily this might seem campy, but the choreography is so specific with detail, three-dimensional in its complexity, and it is danced wonderfully, that humor and wit arise without problem.
So this brings up a similar question.
So far the dancing is well crafted and thoughtful. I am wondering why it asks the dancers to speak?
The dance continues with a reconfiguring of the panels, and spaces are created to reveal more audience. The two worlds, for a moment, become closer to one. Five dancers find themselves in between the panels, occupying the negative space. They proceed to create variations of a similar gestural theme, playing with intricate timings and count structures. The quintet may even be improvising these sequences of movements, which is great, considering they are unable to see each other due to the positioning of the panels. The dancing is well committed and the gesturing is highly impactful. There may or may not be meaning behind each gesture, which is fine. It is percussive with moments of refrain, and the angular and contorted, yet patient approach, seems to represent a well-oiled machine exhausting into eternity. They rotate and give each audience a different perspective, which is a nice touch.
A second group of five dancers enter to replace the current five and proceed where the first five left off. Their movements are more pedestrian in architecture; simple walking patterns coupled with unison moments and brief connections to the walls. Though not entirely rich in content, the movement phrase and this particular moment are well needed and is an example of a smart choreographic transition.
More questions.
So far, not much is happening with the panels. I heard that the performance is only 45 minutes long, so two thirds into the work I start to worry that the panel/framing idea has already peaked.
What happened to the framing of the audience idea I was so excited about earlier? Did I create that expectation?
Just as I create more questions, the whispering and panel-ography by the dancers continues to create another semi-permeable wall with gaps exposing activity on the other half of the stage. Agdeppa and Nguyen begin the duet I was privy to earlier, except now it is on the other side of the wall, and we are confronted with another solo, this time by Sofia Klass. It is here where we all realize that now we get to see what the other audience witnessed earlier when we saw the duet. Smart and mature, Klass dances with a feeling of sincerity, thoughtfulness and detail. The vocabulary is both…
…well crafted and precise. The solo turns into a duet, and (maybe a trio, my memory...) with high-flying Cesar Garfiaz. Have I mentioned effortless? This coupling (and possible trio) has a gentle, yet determined quality that unfolds its risky and virtuoso balances and connections seamlessly.
My constructive feeback: Conversational dialogue requires great practice. Keep it casual and practice often with all kinds of text. Try saying something 50 different ways. Unless you are playing a character, be yourself. In this case, it was trying too hard to be something it didn’t need to be.
But I applaud the effort, and who wouldn’t want to keep watching Arletta Anderson and Meredith Cortez Flores dance.
This brings up some more questions.
Why are we speaking in dance these days? Are we tired of modern dances that require more effort to reel audiences into an ephemeral practice?
Will the content in this work be so deep that speaking is necessary?
Are we relying on our words to make more clear the difficult ideas we are grappling with?
Shouldn’t we take as many classes in performance speaking that we do in dancing…or do we take our voice box for granted because we use it everyday? In which case, I say, use it in performance the way you use in your every day life and the speaking and relationships created will be much more clear.
The dance continues with an introduction of the rest of the performers. A quite handsome cast, I am eager to meet these people. They are whispering while walking, yet I am not sure why, and each grab a part of the walls. Suddenly the space is transformed with one continuous wall of panels dividing the space in two with audience on both sides. At this point there are no sightlines exposing the other audience members. Thankfully I can no longer see Clark Kent.
This suggests: two worlds, two performances.
Is the other audience enjoying a completely different performance than what I am seeing? This is a fantastic idea.
Would there be laughter over there when we are crying over here? Either way, one can’t help but wonder whether or not we will get to see what is happening on the other side.
Our side is treated to a delightful solo performed by Alexie Agdeppa; powerful and precise, indulgent and patient. She is captivating to watch, fearless when looking at the audience. The choreography is fresh; contemporary class vocabulary at times, gestural at other moments. Unfortunately, it soon becomes a duet. Nguyen Nguyen enters, whom I find to be such a lovely dancer, sensitive and strong, supple and well connected to the floor. But as many of you know, (or will soon discover) I loathe man/woman dancing that marginalizes women further into their already tight representation in performance. I loathe man/woman partnering that asks of its male dancer to be more masculine, which is both homophobic and oppressive sexism (I am aware that this is not your intention...but nonetheless). This duet, though passionate in its intent, falls victim to the traditional man hand on woman’s neck, woman thrown to the ground, man gazes at woman from behind, woman tossed in the air, woman beating man’s chest to be heard, woman supported on man’s shoulder-type of choreography. It is intense, super physical, and actually quite successful at times in its inventiveness and often contact improvisation-like quality. It is not hurried or trite. It is, however, an unfortunate gendered pairing that so many choreographers make. And, I know, there are moments in this duet when the woman is supporting the man and the woman tosses the man…however it’s just not the same. That simple. It’s just not the same. And this particular duet is not about the critique of man/woman partnering in dance. Therefore it inadvertently perpetuates the representation. Agdeppa lost a great deal of her power, and rather than continue from her solo as an independent and strong woman, she is quickly pinned into a woman seen only in relation to a man. As a result, Nguyen’s dancing seems to lose its sensitivity and his energy was directed more towards manipulating and throwing his partner around.
My suggestions.
Challenge what we already know of this partnering/pairing. If it is a heterosexual relationship, rethink the gaze and the penetration. Can’t it just be super physical contact with a clear equality and democratic construction?
Why is it that every time a man and woman dance together it has a romantic subtext or overbearing overtone???
This question is not directed at the choreographer of this particular dance, but a larger question I find present in my work with Liz Casebolt and the work of other artists I admire. I think it is something we should all try to think about…because the equivalent questions about race and class come up too.
A quartet of women enter the space; Bethany Betzler, Sofia Klass, Sarita Louise Moore and Chris Leyva. They start speaking. A brush of fear and panic runs quickly into my throat. The same problems arise for me when the nature of these conversational questions are delivered in a forced manner. They are meant to be playful, yet it often sounds like they are whining, and in conjunction with the types of questions being asked, like “what color are my eyes” and “how come you never listen to me” create a problem for this group of women. I am sure that their intention is not to whine nor to seem superficial in their interests…but I have to wonder if it is their lack of experience speaking while dancing that I am responding to or the representation as women that they are framing for themselves. Are these really the questions this strong group of women want to be asking, and, if so, why do I need to see it? The quirky partnering, on the other hand, is fantastic. It is lively, humorous and often finds itself in a knot, twisting and arriving at unexpected places. A solo by Moore is particularly successful, as she tells the rest of her group that she wants to express her feelings through interpretive dance. Ordinarily this might seem campy, but the choreography is so specific with detail, three-dimensional in its complexity, and it is danced wonderfully, that humor and wit arise without problem.
So this brings up a similar question.
So far the dancing is well crafted and thoughtful. I am wondering why it asks the dancers to speak?
The dance continues with a reconfiguring of the panels, and spaces are created to reveal more audience. The two worlds, for a moment, become closer to one. Five dancers find themselves in between the panels, occupying the negative space. They proceed to create variations of a similar gestural theme, playing with intricate timings and count structures. The quintet may even be improvising these sequences of movements, which is great, considering they are unable to see each other due to the positioning of the panels. The dancing is well committed and the gesturing is highly impactful. There may or may not be meaning behind each gesture, which is fine. It is percussive with moments of refrain, and the angular and contorted, yet patient approach, seems to represent a well-oiled machine exhausting into eternity. They rotate and give each audience a different perspective, which is a nice touch.
A second group of five dancers enter to replace the current five and proceed where the first five left off. Their movements are more pedestrian in architecture; simple walking patterns coupled with unison moments and brief connections to the walls. Though not entirely rich in content, the movement phrase and this particular moment are well needed and is an example of a smart choreographic transition.
More questions.
So far, not much is happening with the panels. I heard that the performance is only 45 minutes long, so two thirds into the work I start to worry that the panel/framing idea has already peaked.
What happened to the framing of the audience idea I was so excited about earlier? Did I create that expectation?
Just as I create more questions, the whispering and panel-ography by the dancers continues to create another semi-permeable wall with gaps exposing activity on the other half of the stage. Agdeppa and Nguyen begin the duet I was privy to earlier, except now it is on the other side of the wall, and we are confronted with another solo, this time by Sofia Klass. It is here where we all realize that now we get to see what the other audience witnessed earlier when we saw the duet. Smart and mature, Klass dances with a feeling of sincerity, thoughtfulness and detail. The vocabulary is both…
Pause….I am running out of complimentary adjectives.
…well crafted and precise. The solo turns into a duet, and (maybe a trio, my memory...) with high-flying Cesar Garfiaz. Have I mentioned effortless? This coupling (and possible trio) has a gentle, yet determined quality that unfolds its risky and virtuoso balances and connections seamlessly.
The work ends with Anderson and Flores back in the center of the space, however the panels have thankfully moved to the sides.
Rather than speaking, the two continue with their previous wrestling tango, however with new vocabulary and more complicated contact. Flores executes a series of Wacking dance club moves while Anderson continues with contemporary modern vocabulary, and remarkably the two start partnering their contrasting styles, finding unexpected moments of contact and negative space. The effort of this duet seems more apparent as their speed and energy is increased. The two, different and similar in their style and attack, listen intently to one another in order for their connections to work. This is a nice way to end the evening.
Final thoughts.
First of all, congratulations to IN/EX DP.
Whomever might be reading this post I would like to reiterate that these are not truths, only perceptions and opinions. I find myself deep in all of these same questions. It is only when we can pose questions that the theories inherent in what do become clearer and clearer.
One last suggestion: If you all continue with this work, which I hope you do, push the idea about how the configuration of the split audience views the work at different times. Play with the element of time and mood on both sides of the space, so that everything does not work so perfectly. I want to hear applause and laughter, talking during silence. I want to parallel process what it is I think is happening that I am not privileged to see, while considering what it is directly in front of me. What is the play between the worlds you are blocking and manipulating, framing and un-framing? Maybe there are two completely different performances, and it is by chance that you see one or the other.
Thanks
Joel
Clark Kent is still engaged in the performance. So am I.
Rather than speaking, the two continue with their previous wrestling tango, however with new vocabulary and more complicated contact. Flores executes a series of Wacking dance club moves while Anderson continues with contemporary modern vocabulary, and remarkably the two start partnering their contrasting styles, finding unexpected moments of contact and negative space. The effort of this duet seems more apparent as their speed and energy is increased. The two, different and similar in their style and attack, listen intently to one another in order for their connections to work. This is a nice way to end the evening.
Final thoughts.
First of all, congratulations to IN/EX DP.
Whomever might be reading this post I would like to reiterate that these are not truths, only perceptions and opinions. I find myself deep in all of these same questions. It is only when we can pose questions that the theories inherent in what do become clearer and clearer.
One last suggestion: If you all continue with this work, which I hope you do, push the idea about how the configuration of the split audience views the work at different times. Play with the element of time and mood on both sides of the space, so that everything does not work so perfectly. I want to hear applause and laughter, talking during silence. I want to parallel process what it is I think is happening that I am not privileged to see, while considering what it is directly in front of me. What is the play between the worlds you are blocking and manipulating, framing and un-framing? Maybe there are two completely different performances, and it is by chance that you see one or the other.
Thanks
Joel
