Turbulence (a dance about the economy)
New York Live Arts
The most
compelling aspect of art is that it’s unexpected and one can never fully
prepare for what will come. Keith Hennessy/Circo Zero took the participants of
this performance through obscene, poetic, and symbolic human interactions that
were both chaotic and fluid; but managed to produce a distinct and overarching
thesis of our tumultuous political and economic climate by way of tactile,
human absurdities.
In Turbulence, Hennessy gathered a cohort
of artist to exist in their most vulnerable states of being. The framing of
identity, in contrast to the flippancy of our sociopolitical anatomy, is
deconstructed, reconstructed, and then shredded until we were simply left with
literal nakedness.
Hennessy,
and his beautifully diverse cast of movers, created a performance space that
challenged the traditional concept of how creative works are presented in
theater settings. As an onlooker, who naturally creates premeditated
expectations of what I intend to see, found myself shockingly surprised once I
discovered that the structure of the performance was to investigate the idea of
having no specific structure at all.
As I walked
into the theater, I noticed that the artist were scattered amongst the stage, in
no clear formation or pattern, and with no consistent costuming. They were having
casual conversations with one another and with those who came to perform their
roles as audience members. The theater was constructed so that the lighting
booms were exposed and all of the technical aspects involved in producing a
show were visible to the audience. Even an Apple Macbook, used as the sound
engine, was placed on the floor so that we were able to see one of the artist
mix music that transitioned from ear piercing, to ethereal, to everything in
between. Electrical cords were in a disheveled pile around the laptop, but
luckily, caused no disturbances within the piece.
As time
elapsed, I began to recognize that this no longer was about the artist and the
audience but that it was about a collective of individuals, in one room,
sharing an experience together. It was less “we are the dancers” and “you are
the viewer” and more we are all participants in this psychedelic amoeba of wild
happenstance.
As I sat in one
of the middle, front row seats, I studied the space and the many interactions
thoroughly. The set had cardboard boxes duct taped to the floor, in a linear
progression, from down stage to upstage and along the wall. On stage left,
there was a trapeze contraption hanging from the ceiling with a yellow rope
attached and another green rope hanging to the right. A pregnant black woman,
with shoulder length locks, was weaving her legs and arms around the yellow
rope. There was a melodic quality to how she gestured her limbs within and
around the rope. Two women were confined within a turquoise fabric with a glittery,
gold scarf covering their face, and vision, as they flailed around the theater
with no set intention. A robust and jubilant black man came up to me and asked
if I wanted a “fake healing”. I unquestionably declined. I later learned, by
way of Keith Hennessy nonchalantly explaining to several people in my section
of seats, that a “fake healing” entailed absolutely nothing. He stated that
nothing would be wrong with the person getting healed and the healer had no
healing power at all. I found this statement comparable to many facets of life,
more specifically, the overall concept of this piece.
Many
peculiar antics were happening on the stage, around the stage, where more
patrons were seated, and in the audience section of the theater. Several of the
artists created small, energetic impulses that developed into uncontrollable
and spastic movements. There were moments when they began to mimic one another
and other times where they performed chaotic partnering work. The cast walked
around the room asking for members of the audience to join in and many,
unabashedly, accepted the offer. All of this was being initiated under the
realms of improvisation.
As the piece
started to settle deeply into its raucous nature, various uses of text began to
arise. The robust black man was streaming a roll of “danger do not enter” tape across
the stage. As he was walking about, he said, “Don’t be a lazy artist; be
serious about your shit”, which caused me to hiss out a calm chuckle while
equivalently taking in his statement with great seriousness.
As the
maelstrom of quirks continued to magnify, a man with fair, brown skin stepped
forward, with a card board box, full of writing, and began to read: “Love,
despite its toxicity and violence, can bring us closer to the possibility of
expressing human tenderness.” He repeated this phrase over and over and over
again until his words intoxicated my mind. As he was stating this powerful
phrase, a scene, that depicted the act of water boarding, was being taken place
on stage right. At this point, audience participation was a normal occurrence
in the evolution of all that was happening. One of the artists and member of
the audience had a large jar of what perceived to be water and another glass of
vinegar and proceeded to pour this over a man of the cast, Ruairí Donovan.
A thin blanket was draped over his body but it was visually obvious that he
felt the effects of this torturous act.
After
several minutes of subsuming
this heinous infliction, Donovan propped himself up, with the assistance of the
dancer imposing such suffering, with a glossy look of bewilderment in his eyes.
The two then were handed a microphone and began to cough viciously into it so
that it projected the theater with a grating sound. It went on for so long that
it created disquietude in my body.
On an entirely different side of
the stage, a pyramid, consisting entirely of audience members, was being
assembled. Once it was complete, the gold and glittery shawl reappeared in
multiples and was being cloaked over their heads. I found this image
captivating and appeared reminiscent of the pyramid on a one-dollar bill and
the shawl looked to be a representation of currency and opulence.
One of the more sexually revealing
aspects of the performance developed as the dancers began to engage one another
with intense eroticism. Their carnal instincts heightened as they were rubbing
each other lustfully, sucking and fondling on each other’s nipples, and
thrusting themselves on top of each other. There was a nonconformity and repudiation
to how society normalizes heterosexuality. Anything outside of that realm is
generally labeled as other.
Another daunting moment transpired
as a member of the audience volunteered himself to perform one of the more
audacious acts. He was squatting side by side with two of the dancers and began
to pee on the floor. Releasing bodily fluid on stage requires remarkable
fearlessness. They then began to sit in their own fluids while other members of
the ensemble began to join in.
Zany acts continued and later
progressed into several members of the cast and audience being completely
unclothed. They then dumped a bucket of water, onto the stage, and partook in a
slip and slide soiree. The performance ends with this staggering moment and
leaves me with the thought that everything is significant but really has no
meaning at all. Everything that was performed has specific implications but simultaneously
means nothing. The dichotomy is puzzling but compatible with the essence of
life.
“You have a responsibility to
choose”, states a woman from the cast, as she was reading a book, on stage,
during the performance. She grabbed the microphone and stated these words. She
was signifying to the audience that everything is a choice and those choices have
great impact. Whether you choose to sit and observe or come on stage into the
unknowingness of this piece, you have to make a choice. I found this to be in
direct alignment with the purpose of this show. We choose to accept the political
and economical structure of our society. We know that there are many aspects of
our humanity that are skewed and corrupt, but we mutually agree to accept it. Hennessey
and his collaborators took us through this strange journey of preposterous antics
and augmented them so that we could clearly grasp the clout of our actions and
how they impact our local and global society. He also makes a point in saying
that none of the dancers are free, even if it appears as such, but that they
are performing freedom. We justify ourselves to fit into this landscape of normalcy
while also trying to maintain a sense of our own individualism. We suppress our
most outlandish aspects of ourselves so that we can function in society and not
be ostracized as an anomaly. Hennessy and his cast anarchically displayed a
multitude of incongruities to juxtapose it amongst the sociopolitical ethos of
present day society.
