TRANSPORT MY MIND THROUGH TIME, THROUGH IDEAS, THROUGH SHAPE, SIZE, RHYME : A Matter of Practice, Danspace Project Thursday May 17th, 8pm

TRANSPORT MY MIND THROUGH TIME, THROUGH IDEAS, THROUGH SHAPE, SIZE, RHYME

a response in three parts

by Katrina De Wees

Wednesday May 30^th, 2012

PART I: initial thoughts

On Thursday May 17^th I attended Food for Thought at Danspace Project, a benefit series supporting the St. Marks Church food program. The three night series was curated by recent graduates of the Institute for Curatorial Practice in Performance at Wesleyan University. The exchange was glorious, emerging curators, food for the hungry and live performance!

I attended the first evening curated by Lydia Bell. The evening called A Matter of Practice explored the notion of transposition by exploring works of four artists: Yve Laris Cohen, Xaviera Simmons, Arturo Vidich and Larissa Velez-Jackson. Bell describes transposition referencing the work of Adrian Piper’s Funk Lessons where “By flipping the context, and putting a ‘black’ social dance form in a ‘white’ visual art space, Piper made a powerful statement about what gets historicized and for whom. Through the act of transposition, Piper exposed choreography as a mode of thought and production, a way of investigating social, cultural and aesthetic concerns.” Bell goes on to explain transposition is not only a tool for choreographic production where there is a change is relative position, order or sequence. Transposition in the work by Piper and the chosen artists is instead utilized as a mode of inquiry.

The evening, in my experience, highlighted the work of the curator. The ideas presented through the artists works I found compelling as they related to the curator’s said theme. The curatorial statement was succinct and rich in content, and brought new ideas into my ways of seeing the artists work. As someone who works at a museum, and is constantly seeing, discussing and thinking about thematic trends between artists, I appreciated the layering and context in the evening’s didactic materials.  With emphasis on the ideas behind placing artists side by side, the effect became educational. Consequentially, I am most fascinated with how a curatorial practice, in this instance, became a practice in arts education. The curatorial statement became a frame by which I began to see and understand the work on stage.

Often times, artists are grouped under general themes of “emerging” or “all new work,” but how can we see work and understand it in new ways through its programmatic placement? I have not seen such thoughtful practice in the act of curating performance. The goals of the ICPP program are quite compelling, and in this instance demonstrated success.

PART II: thoughts on 2 of the curator’s subjects:

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PART III: thoughts on the work of 2 of the curator’s subjects:

Larissa Velez-Jackson:

She calls it Star Crap in Progress. Fainting almost, close to, out of breath, trip, dragging flip flop sound beat score flailing arms, grabbing the pole of amplification. Will she speak into this microphone? No, instead it’s more fun to hit and make loud unpredictable sounds, and drag the mic at her feet. As if the sound of her flip flops were not already obvious, now we understand the artist’s intention. Or do we? Amplify the audible. Mute the subtlety. I see what I see. I hear what I see. I imagine what I see based on what I hear, as well. In a rainbow striped leotard, bright red lipstick, and microphone wires for days, I enter this comical post modern infused puzzle, of glamour ridden irony.  From the testing of shoes, and removal of pants to walk, and dance, run and slide, I found a deep admiration for the artist’s willingness to take me to a place outside a common boundary of beauty for the stage. Lip singing to her own voice, I was with her all the way through.

Dear Auturo Vidich,

All I needed was you, and your sound score, and the beginning twitch of your fingertips upside down. I am familiar with this story of wilting nerves. The sound was a telling environment. I heard the echo of the city landscape of our dreams, us city dwellers. This was your dream. An endless presence of other beings, perhaps spirits who visit even on the dance floor underneath blue light. Melting and morphing between water and human form, sometimes you are a tree stump. Sturdy, solid, and fixed in the earth. Your limbs illustrate the roots beneath the wooden floor. I am only viewing the surface, what is the world beneath your stump? You fly high, invert our expectations, and satisfy the mission.