Tag Archives: zoe | juniper

A Twice-Baked Show in Shadow, Light, and Soil

photo by Juniper Shuey

Zoe | Juniper’s BeginAgain (at On The Boards through March 30) starts with a bang, or rather a clap, stamping, and slaps. The lights rise briefly to show dancers in close formation then dim to darkness and all we hear are their movements. It’s exciting and a bit scary as the sounds come with precision and from close proximity to one another. One wonders how they stay together, unaccompanied by music or any other obvious unifying mark. One wonders how they avoid colliding.

Let’s start over.

Our first glimpse of BeginAgain comes in the lobby at On The Boards where one of Celeste Cooning’s distinctive cut paper works hangs before the theatre entry. More Cooning work hangs in the vomitoria like Tyvek cobwebs.

The performance space itself continues the wafting nature of those cobwebs with a mitered pair of curtains that appear to wave in a breeze. In fact the curtains are taught and smooth scrims. The waves are one of the many projections that provide much of the pleasure in this puppetry dance piece. Between the scrims there is a trapezoid of bare floor, and between the trapezoid, the scrims, and the audience there is loose dirt. On the stage left side dirt is a woman on her side in a plaster form.

These provocative images–the illusion of movement on the rigid scrim, the restricted motion of the cast-bound dancer, and the dance heard but unseen–present the first of several coups de theatre in BeginAgain. Though these moments are more clever than breathtaking they are astonishingly clever and often discomfiting.

Much of the dance features staccato sequences ranging from gentle fixed points to larger scaled, harsher punches and slices. The downstage dirt (it also extends into the upstage shadows of the scrims) is an area of importance, rarely entered and only after much hesitation and seeming deliberation. Much of the movement takes place on the floor upstage of the scrims. The gap and trapezoid between them become a liminal space.

Early in the show that dancer in the plaster cast breaks from her shell. Soon the process begins again with a dancer lying on the upstage side of the scrim while a boy in a suit singing in tonic sol-fas (that later give way to full-on Sacred Harp singing) applying plaster patches to her body. We are nearly always aware of this boy and the dancer (he is the only male onstage). They provide a constant against which all else happens and the gender specificity feels important, as does his suit. It is emblematic of power, even as that power is undermined by his falsetto singing.

Feminine power is amplified by both set and dance. The latter reaches a climax in an intimate pairing that grows closer and more discrete until it is all but private. The former reveals itself in another Cooning work, a huge black-on-white curtain of cut patterns that fills the upstage wall. The images are full of shapes suggesting downcast young women with ponytails on a filigree.

Whether in the complexities of power, gender, or movement dualities abound. Throughout the piece doubling suggests a surface and sublimated expression, especially when the doubling is performed on either side of a scrim. In another highlight of the piece a dancer is perfectly doubled by her shadow, projected on a scrim, which dances in an imperfect paired duet with a shadow projected on that scrim from an unseen source. Meanwhile a fourth dancer moves in sharply contrasted tension, speed and form behind the scrim.

In addition to the formal shadow puppetry the scrims and set reflect a variety of other images including video of murmurations, yellowed images of children and families, and vertical bars traveling across the space like digital imaging errors. The line between projected settings and active, character-associated puppets blurs. In only a few instances is there a direct association between the dance and projections. The role of the images is fluid.

This fluidity may make it difficult to fit BeginAgain comfortably into one’s idea of dance but the piece largely consists of movement, even when it is movement performed by light and shadows. No matter what it is that’s dancing and no matter that the occasional verbal language and the structure suggests drama, even that, in the final moments, there is even beautiful, irrefutable closure, it is dance.

If there is a fault in the piece it is in the length of some sequences, which make their point and repeat it till the movement approaches the meditative aspect of mantra. Repetition is assumed in the work’s title but to what end? Do we begin again in hopes of ending differently or is repetition the end in itself? That strong denouement incorporates both of these notions; that repetition is the norm, change is subtle and thus the end is the release in which we say goodnight.

Getting In On the Ground Floor with zoe | juniper

A moment from zoe | juniper’s “No one to witness” (l-r) Erin McCarthy, Kim Lusk, Britt Karhoff — Zoe Scofield with back to camera (Photo: Joseph Lambert / Jazzy Photo)

Last Friday night, after a few Euros (shot of Fernet and a Radeberger) at St. John’s, I was lying flat on my back trying to keep the people I saw from spinning. I was having no luck, though, because I was watching a dance performance (of sorts: It was also an experiment, research, and rehearsal). Zoe | juniper‘s “No one to witness and adjust, Study #4” took place in a small studio at Velocity Dance Center — you signed up for a half-hour block ahead of time, and at the appointed time a guide appeared in the Velocity lobby.

She read off a list: Be quiet walking in. Lie down where you’re told. Don’t try to sit up. You can move your head, but try to keep arms and legs inside the ride at all times. Leave your shoes and other belongings in the hall, you can collect them afterward. (Allll right, you thought, conflicted. Lots of instructions, but the lying down seemed easy enough.) At the doorway, the dancers greeted the audience and showed them over to taped off sections of the floor, where they were to stretch out and rest their heads on small pillows. Then the music (which would have contained excerpts from some of the following: FUCK BUTTONS, Henryk Gorecki, Glenn Gould, Greg Haines, Morgan Henderson, Ryoji Ikeda, Loscil, Tito Ramsey) and dancing began.

Juniper Shuey was crouched at one end of the shoebox-shaped studio with a camera, and you at first thought he might be responsible for the video playing on the ceiling, but yes and no: It didn’t seem live, though he was likely the one to have processed and edited the dance pieces shown, along with cosmic interludes. Hanging from the ceiling were casts of body parts made by Derek Ghormley with Zoe Scofield: an upper torso, an arm, a small bit you didn’t recognize, a chunk of human.

Stepping around and between the bodies on the floor were the dancers, in white tops, black tights, and hands dyed red: Britt Karhoff, Kim Lusk, Erin McCarthy, and Zoe Scofield. The choreography came in bits (Scofield would say something like, Have we done this one yet?), and the dancers might start walking in circles around you, hitting slo-mo every third step. Arms drew back, were cocked, sliced the air.

One segment was particularly ballet-centric, though Scofield’s interests in ballet have often to do with its limits, rather than its perfected nature. Here she brushed out tendus with her feet, began then abandoned developpés at calf-height. Earlier, she’d been strolling with a little bounce to her walk, a small smile on her face.

From my vantage point, I could see only so much: McCarthy’s torso framed by Karhoff’s legs, for instance. But the floor brought dance into my bones, each footstep transmitting an impact I’d have underestimated from a chair’s comfort. Bodies loomed over me, developing strange perspectives. The air in the tiny studio grew thickly warm and Scofield paused to turn a fan on. Occasionally a dancer glanced at me and met my eyes, and if she was close, leaning over, it quickly became a little too soul-baringly uncomfortable — a few feet away, and we could have a moment of respectful recognition. Once, an audience member and I locked eyes, and she reddened and looked the other way.

At some point, I realized I felt like a baby on its back, flopping my head around to see what’s what, amazed at the height of everyone, and really began to enjoy myself immensely. It felt like I’d never seen dance before, never quite realized that articulation looked that way. It was almost impossible to critique dance this way since it didn’t conform to prior experience — I found myself  registering qualities, Karhoff’s friendly curiosity, the cool serenity from McCarthy, the shy lightness of Lusk, all of which would require revision in a succeeding segment.

I had to restrain myself from high-fiving the red hands that strayed into my field of view. Not to high-five, really, but to feel that palm’s movement. To carry it. Suddenly we were done.

These “chamber studies,” which began in October 2012, will culminate in BeginAgain, a larger piece coming March 2014 at On the Boards. (So far there’s been Kate&Zoe at City Arts Festival, No one to witness #2 at Frye Art Museum’s Moment Magnitude, and For Forgetting at The Goat Farm/gloAtl.) But just as plenty of studies now grace the walls of museums and galleries, these performances also have the opportunity to live on their own, in the minds and bodies of people who have participated in them.

Some in the performing arts believe that there is a “finished” product, and keep the curious away until opening night. That’s a model of a performer/audience relationship, but it’s not, certainly, the only one. My presence was literally an obstacle for the dancers, a disruption, but I think they sensed, from the response of others as well, that they were making dance with us, disruptively. It’s difficult often to tell people what you mean by modern dance, but in this sense, it’s easy: What’s modern is the willingness to push something out in public(s) before you think you’re ready, to iterate its development and use that feedback to develop further, to organize creativity rather than try to direct it.