Among Willows
It’s common to compare contemporary theater with ancient religious ritual but much less common to see an event that actually recalls those roots. Like many religious services today, theatrical events often have more to do with seeing and being seen–gotta get those grants, gotta have someplace to go on a Friday night–than with sharing a spiritual experience.
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The concert was divided into three solos, one by each dancer-choreographer, and a final collaborative trio, but the dividing lines were fudged: a brief trio opened the program, and musical interludes bridged the gaps between the sections as the “stage crew”–mostly performers not performing at the moment–changed the set pieces. Their bustling reminded me of acolytes who scurry for water, towels, wine, and bread while we focus on the main event, the prayers and music of the service; we’re only human, after all, and props don’t move themselves. Beyond the concert’s structure, what made the program was the place itself, a warm and open space with a glowing wood floor, high ceiling, russet bricks, and tall windows framing the dirty-milk dusk of a rainy June evening. Inside, the semidarkness was sometimes broken by candles, golden side lighting, or, in one corner, a glowing stairway leading nowhere.
Julia Mayer’s Companion Piece I may have been inspired by Martin Luther King Jr.’s speech when he accepted the Nobel prize, as the program suggested, but I didn’t see that. I saw a tall, thin woman as stately and gawky as a crane, giving her whole heart to odd, uncompromised movement: arms before her, she let one rise, one fall; she took an imaginary partner in her arms to waltz, picked a small animal up from the floor. Mayer also used her voice and breath in an intentional but unself-conscious way, singing and laughing to herself, making little noises of pleasure or consideration. Stepping slowly on her big feet or rocking from one foot to the other, Mayer reminded me how the present contains the past and the future alike, as each moment evolves in its own inevitable, accidental way. In the past Mayer’s work has sometimes seemed limited by its didactic purposes, but this solo was more straightforward, unmediated by the need to tell a story or prove a point.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo by Dana Vallera.
