Two figures sit under a decorative tree in natural radiance. Their movements, beginning slow and elegant, show the delicate intent they hold in one another. Inviting piano keys begin as the two move with care, while caring for each other. They dance against a glowing golden-brown backdrop on a stage that tells us we are amid a familiar place. In this opening segment of A.I.M. by Kyle Abraham’s Joyce Theatre showcase, guest choreographer Maleek Washington paints a magical scene with emotions that engrain every pore of the audience, in a debuting piece entitled Uproot: love and legacy. As the piano builds, so do the movements, becoming more brisk even while retaining their softness. Gentle and nostalgic chants accompany the piano, filling up the entirety of the theater. Sounds so embodying they feel to be exuding from our own chests, internally.
It is in this moment that I realize we are witnessing live musicianship, as two men sit just in front of the stage, among the audience. One, playing the piano and the other, a vocalist, both singing and composing live. As these musical elements build with the movements of the two figures on the stage, the partnership of their dance remains careful. They gaze into each other's eyes, almost in prayer, and their eyes show their long to protect one another. A third figure enters the stage in her own world, and we start to see a community building in reminiscent and contemporary whispers of West African rhythms, movements and aesthetics. The live music is powerful. Drums, claps, and chants radiate with the movers fluctuating in a flow from fast to slow, each dancer capturing their own beauty on the stage. Elegant extending arabesques, acrobatic melts to the floor. Maleek creates exquisite moments where dancers move individually, then catch each other in collective stillness. The piano building and calming, matched the hearts on the stage and as an observer we are enamored with the care that the dancers took for us. We are graced with one last couple who enters, whose partnership builds from skepticism to trust. Supportive and creative lifts are explored, and as an audience, we see the meticulousness each partner handles in the other. Maleek Washington tells us a story of ancestral care through these various choreographic elements, and just as observers we feel a part of their kin.
Next we are hit with 5 Minute Dance (You Drivin?). A piece created in collaboration with the USC Glorya Kaufman School of Dance class of 24’, and set to four student dancers. In this part of the show, we are bulldozed with sharp aesthetic lines and extensions from the talented group. Fierce and intellectual floor traveling moved them across all inches of the stage. This traveling infused acrobatics, controlled attitude turns and a complex varying of levels. Juxtaposing the first piece, we are shown a different type of partnership and partnering. In lieu of softness and care, is swiftness, keen edges and hard lines. In this exciting presentation, dynamic music matched dynamic movement. The music was intense and high energy and the movement spontaneous, electrifying and explosive.
Just before intermission, we are introduced to the world premiere of MotorRover performed on this Saturday matinee by Tamisha A. Guy and Catherine Kirk. In what seems to begin in a friendly competitive dynamic, culminates in a mutual respectful journey. The piece is meant to be a conversation to the late Merce Cunningham’s Landrover. This aspect proves the piece's intricacy as it shows to hold multiple conversations within one, as the dancers also speak to each other through matching the quality of one another's movement. An exposed, non-traditional technical exhibition, the absence of sound leaves the presentation even more bare and maximizes the focus on the quality of modern and balletic technique that is strong within the choreography. They also use the entirety of the stage with leaps, hops, balances and directional changes. Through the dynamic of the two dancers, we see the conversation being had on all levels. I take it that, like Cunningham’s work, MotorRover could be speaking to human nature within correspondence and possibly even more specifically, within dance. Tendencies to outdo or a motivation to succeed, out-shine, win.
However, it was clear that the dancers were embodied in a culture of and within learning. The two playfully spoke through their movement as they journeyed, and remained true to the concept of process. There were so many beautiful moments in this piece that equally conveyed an image of growth, a reality that many of us can relate to. One beautiful moment shows the air of competition broken when one dancer is left on stage and dances alone. At a moment where she struggles to attempt a difficult balance, the other dancer quietly appears from the wings in careful and concentrated support, soon we see a community build around, holding her weight as she raises her extension. Herein, the concept of process is truly at the forefront and through this growth we see the contrast of the piece's ending to how it began. The conversation becomes about refinement and recognizing togetherness in a rare culture of people. When we bond in our uniqueness as peculiar individuals of dance, culture or what have you, we can see much of our process in fact overlap in ways that support and grow one another with power.
Rain is a heart wrenching solo choreographed by Bebe Miller. In this piece, the storytelling is immaculate. From the minimal stage lighting, decor and powerful red, full-body costuming, the choreographic and emotional aspects only magnify it. The storytelling begins with a strong relationship to the floor, yet eventually grows to whole body excursions that show a continual fight ensuing. As an audience we only know of the heaviness of the dancer's heart as she moves, burdened from the weight of her life's pain, yet still presenting with abundance and spirit. The movements are inquisitive and at times immersed in musicality. The stage is only decorated with a single patch of grass in the center and we watch as she uses it to portray her journey as she mostly dances around it, not touching. With momentum building strongly and then lowering again, her undulating body excursions, hops and runs show of her fight, masked in elegance and beauty. She takes her time in moments of slowness, pausing, melting. Even in her elegance, the entire time it is as if she is bleeding. Persevering with tenacity but also humanly, at times, losing.
Catherine Kirk, bears it all as she performs with grace, giving herself to the audience and to the work. She finally makes it to the grass, beaming in the light. With her fight coming to an end, the lights softly drown away as the stage, music and her movements slowly get quieter and quieter to a final silencing still.
In a moment of feeling enveloped in the emotions, rigor, and captivation of all of the pieces up until this point, comes what will be my favorite part of the night. If We Were A Love Song is a six-part performance that basks in the bravery and brilliance of Nina Simone’s legendary voice. Black is the Color of my True Love’s Hair, is part one of this section. A group piece that remains in only one corner of the stage. Huddled in a stark and impressionable collective, the sentiment of this section is seen right away. A premature impression is one of somberness, yet there is a greater feeling that exudes, found in the deep focus and poetic seriousness of the artists. Slow extensions, quiet to fast movements, A.I.M. dancers make subtlety a statement and are masters of control. The use of hands are intentional, speaking as if voices themselves and the dancers move in slow ripples finding space not seen. We are reminded yet again in this piece of how A.I.M. dancers are scientists in finding time, and their impact and voices are all the more deep in doing so.
If We Were A Love Song allows the audience to recognize and admire the uniqueness and power of individual A.I.M. dancers, their personalities, their strengths, their ability to embody the work they present. Some dancers are masters of musicality, some masters of limberness, some are creative and imaginative partners of the floor. The stage is bare and black just like their clothing, with one main light illuminating the movers and capturing their grace. The aesthetic mood matches the bareness and simplicity of Nina’s tone, as the movers bodies mold with her voice. There were so many breathtaking moments, coupled too beautifully with movers obsessed with their craft. An entire company of exceptional artists. And with dancers such as Jae Neal who can embody an entirety of any situation. Or Martell Ruffin who’s riveting passion can be seen in the absolute dark. Or Tamisha A. Guy whose calming, careful and powerful voice you can hear with her lips sealed and warmth you can feel eons away.
The feeling presented in this segment show the coldness understood, that can become from one’s experience, and how even in this coldness we still glow. After living a black experience, this part of the show was a moment to get attached to. In the most gorgeous way, If We Were a Love Song reminded me of misguided gold, of confused pride, silenced wisdom, admiration long too overdue. And the beauty in all of the pain.
