The show that was recently at Diverseworks called was so “A Crack in Everything” but the company
Zoe and Juniper was so amazing that I wanted to write down what affected me so
much about it. It was one of the most powerful works of art I have ever seen. I have to commemorate this in some way. I used to write these
things in a sort of art journal but now this blog is sort of becoming my art
journal. This is not a review and is
just written from the point of view as a spectator who came into Diverseworks
knowing nothing about Zoe and Juniper’s show except that people on facebook
were saying it was cool. The worst thing
is that the show is over, so I cannot encourage people to go see it, and this
blog entry might be extremely annoying if you missed it! I wish I had seen it every Saturday in February
instead of just the last performance, because they say it was different every
time.
I enjoy installations. But it’s kind of the same way I enjoy
paintings- I am looking into a different world.
I don’t every really experience being part of the space of an installation. I am physically in it, but I know it’s intentional
and I’m not, it’s Art and I’m not, I am usually not supposed to touch it or
push stuff around, so it is it’s space and I am my space. I have to sort of look around and ignore all
the annoying people ruining everything by taking pictures with their iphones
and talking about their boring jobs or dinner plans. The installation and I, we don’t really know
each other. Probably because I am too
fastidious about how I want to experience it, but that’s just how it is…
“A Crack in
Everything” was incredible because I HAD to be part of the space.
The reason was the dancers were moving in the same space as
the people. Not just not-on-a-stage, but
really among us- we were encouraged to walk around the space throughout the
performance. People were milling around
in their jeans and t-shirts and bags and iphones, and then this faerie appears-
she like an other-worldly being because of the conscious way she is moving- not
like us- her movements are so conscious and full of intention and other that she is truly in another
dimension. We look at her, but she looks
through us. She doesn’t see us any more
than a ghost does, and she is full of secret intention, and we are just random. The other people- they were part of the space
too, iphones and sneakers and everything.
Nothing could ruin it because there was a place for everything. And for me, too.
There were times within the performance where I was sitting
in front of a screen with projections of dancers. Behind the screen, I could see the hazy
figure of the real dancer, imitating the filmed dancer. The image of the movie-dancer was more clear
to me than the real dancer… how strange!
All the thoughts this one movement touches in me- is a thought of
someone more real to me than the person it?
Do I try to behave like an image of myself or someone else? I don’t know what the dancers intended, those
are just my own reactions. It reminds me
of that scene in the film Mulholland
Drive (but much less creepy) where a woman is singing, and then drops down-
and her voice continues- it is a tape recorder.
There were many times in this performance when I felt
empathy and two times where I was even to the point of tearing up.
There was a video of two people yelling at each other. Their heads circled like dogs ready to bite,
but they never did. They just bit with
words. Their mouths had some kind of
yellow goo dribbling out like the nastiness of some kinds of anger. They brought their mouths close to each
other’s necks to bite or kiss, but never did- their eye contact was
mesmerizing- in a way it was thisclose to sexual but not quite- and they were
blind to everything else but each other and the fight. I thought the video was silent. It was only later I heard the faint sound of
barking that I realized they were NOT speaking in muted words, they were
barking. I am rarely really disturbed in
“disturbing” art installations because I’ve just seen so many that hit you over
the head relentlessly with the same effect (which is not even that different
from the media images I see in everyday non-art life). I am dutifully disturbed in my head when I am
there, but then I just leave the art show and get a coffee with friends or
something and forget. However, the anger
video in this installation did disturb me and make me uncomfortable because of
its truth- that is how I am when I am yelling- also because it was the only
thing in an otherwise rather pretty installation that was that jarring to me.
Another sort of emotionally wrenching moment was two dancers
facing off, connected to each other by a red yarn, each dancer holding one end
of the yarn in her mouth. The mouth was
so intimate a connection that my whole body was in sympathy with this. More than if the yarn had connected their
hands, or genitals, or hearts, or stomachs, or foreheads- I don’t know why the
mouth was so affecting. I think it’s
something so subconscious in my body that reacted… one dancer backed away from
the other. The yarn got longer. The moving-away dancer pulled and breathed
and panted with a great effort, and the other dancer was like an indifferent
donkey- she only took a step or two forward, glassy-eyed. I very moved inside because I was reminded of
a heart’s extreme connection to people in my life, especially trying and
wishing someone would behave in a way I want, or come to me, or respond to me…
Sometime after this (?) there was a release of tension- the
dancers now were dancing among a hall of two movie screens and there was a film
like snow going upwards like the bubbles in champagne, and Schubert started
playing, and the movements were lyrical and the dancers danced together and
this was such a release of tension that I cried, but am not consciously sure
why.
The space was enclosed and used no natural light, except for
a long vertical crack at the very back space.
The light coming out of the crack was coming from some unseen window and
was whiter and brighter and fresher and more powerful, as daylight is. Some dancers were pulling towards it, and one
was sitting on the bench like a little girl, her hands in her lap. A dancer tried to pull the little one to the
light, beckoning with great energy, but she would not come. Then finally, she did stand up and start to
walk, and that too erupted a great emotion in me but I don’t know why.
When they got to the crack, I thought something happy would
happen, but they just continued their searching movements. There was no resolution, catharsis or ending,
just continuing.
