Tara O'Con and Enrico Wey

“Walk it Once” in the dark recesses of space Tara O’Con’s peace began. The entire space went dark and only the soft yellow hew drifting in through the stained glass windows reminding one that we were in a sanctuary and contributed to the context of the piece. The eminent darkness created a field of mysterious air to the space that silences the audience in anticipation of the piece, “Walk it Once.”

Sounds bellowed in the distance that slowly, steadily brought to light one inverted individual’s graceful torso.  The combination between the sound and the imagery created a very intimate and intellectual combination. By being inverted the dancer forced the viewer to look beyond what they saw, and open themselves to the experience of the piece. A piece which started in total darkness and continued to evolve in a slow varied climb between lights and sounds and gave the audience a sense of perpetuity of moments and other worldliness. That something lay beyond the graceful backs of players and people, was true in that the faces of dancers lingered in positions that we the audience could not see. It was an idea the persuaded the piece.

A second dancer was revealed in a planetary shift of lights and bodies. The second dancer moved from upstage to down stage her path illuminated by and by. Again, even in the duet’s interaction lay a hidden aspect as the two dancers came together and moved apart and the vision became much more intrinsic in the mystery of the environment, in the mystery of each other, in the mystery of the space. What lies beyond is incomprehensible, yet we are watching it before our eyes. The division of bodies flowed onward and back upstage right to the third inverted body.

The space seemed to come alive. Not suddenly or vivaciously but subtly and rather calmly.  As each dancer became illuminated from the dark crevices of the space a more holistic vision appeared as deeper meaning of the self, of the individual, and of the community. Look up, see who the dancers are, but that is not what we witnessed in the performance. We witnessed the alter egos of the ones who’s faces we now got to see through an alternative lens.  It only heightened the idea that we were in a sanctuary for dance.

“Standard Gravity, part 2b” by Rico D. Wey veered from the spiritual space by constructing a space through very quantitative materials but still maintained a very qualitative feel to it. The work was one veering from dark to light and back again. Illuminating a frame, a structure through a series of slides and creating a tension that slings the piece into a whole new velocity than we had watched before.

The structure changed as the piece evolved and pieces disappeared from view.  A patch of grass lay center stage and became a major integrated visual for the piece. As the dancers moved across the space and began to interact a sense of perpetuality arose from the gestures. What’s next? Whom do I follow with my eyes? It never felt chaotic but in a sense it was chaos. Even the environment became unpredictable as a fan suddenly turned on, while a dancer picked up a glass of water, drank it and through it down only to reveal it was plastic. The chaos was left drifting with the cup rolling on the floor.

Never did the moments or the constructions bore me but rather incited me to view beyond the way I was seeing them to attempt to see them for what they were. What was the lawn? Was it suburbia or something else? Can I go diving off the diving board with them? It felt risky, it was risky. One dancer tackled another across the entire width of the stage. Who got hurt? Were they supposed to get hurt?

While the space allotted for this construction to manifest itself, any space could have allowed for the construction of “Standard Gravity,” even as walls fall they can be rebuilt in other locations and evolve to better serve as they progress through the ages.